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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Lonely Are the Brave"  Katy—because of course it's Katy, wearing that stupid mask of Stephanie—insists on helping you up into your truck, even though you try brushing her off. She climbs into the passenger side and gives you the kind of long, steady, appraising stare like the real Stephanie would give you. You glare back. Not that it makes a difference. "Marc Garner," she says, and taps the blank mask she's laid on the seat between you. "I want us to try getting a copy of Marc in here. So we can fuck Hannah up from both ends." You suck in your upper lip and say nothing. "You know Marc?" she asks. "I see you sometimes hanging out with his sisters." You shrug. She rubs her nose with her open palm, just the way Stephanie would. "I guess I could do it myself," she says. "Only I don't want to get Stephanie involved." "You could use the Hannah mask," you mumble. "Or, I dunno, maybe your own face?" She gives you a look. Faintly contemptuous and impatient. But then she wavers and breaks eye contact. "Yeah, I guess. Only I don't want— Well—" She starts to stammer. "I don't want to get in the middle of it myself." "So use Stephanie's face. That's what you did with Hannah." "Stephanie and Hannah already don't like each other. There's nothing between Stephanie and Marc. I mean, there's no bad blood or anything." "Pshh. There's no bad blood between me and Marc, either. Oh, fine," you groan. You're too miserable to feel like turning it into a fight. "You'll have to set it up some way. I can't just call up Marc. I don't know him that well." At all well, really. You look over to find Katy—with Stephanie's face—giving you an exasperated glare. Then she snorts and shrugs. "Okay, thanks," she says, and claps your knee. "And don't worry, it'll work out. I can smooth things out for you after. If, you know—" She runs a tongue over her lower lip. "You kind of fuck things up." Almost you come unglued at that. But she's already in motion, shoving the truck door open and hopping out. "Look, um," she says, leaning in through the open door. "I'd love to get together with you at the school again now. But it's getting kind of late, and there are some things I have to do. Including setting up the thing with Marc. So, see you tomorrow?" Yeah, sure. It's a school day, of course I'll see you. You nod. "Awesome. And, uh, thanks for— Well, for everything." She shrugs, and slams the door shut. You slump behind the wheel with your arms folded. But before you can sink too deep into a mud hole of anger and resentment, you're startled by a knock at your window. It's "Stephanie" again. When you just stare at her, she motions you to roll down the window. "Look," she says once the window is down, "it was sweet what you did with Dylan. But it wasn't me, you know, he was hassling, it was Meghan, and she can take care of herself. You don't need to show off for me, Will. And, like, don't go showing off with other girls, okay? Oh, and," she adds as she backs up a step, "don't worry about anything like what might come next. It was just a thing that happened. It's all forgotten about already, I promise you." She chucks her chin at you, then strides off. You wind up nursing a bad headache. * * * * * You're a lot more sore for a lot longer that you would have expected, and even the next morning there's a pit of pain deep inside your stomach. But maybe it's just stress—or a sickness borne of shame—and not a bruise, because you wince and cringe every time you think of the "fight" with Dylan. I didn't even get a blow in. And I just let him fold me up. It's like he was even trying to be nice about it. It takes you ten minutes to brush your teeth, because you keep dropping the brush and glaring at yourself shamefacedly in the bathroom mirror. You get to school before Katy does, and wait for her at the entrance of the breezeway that connects the student parking lot to the school. She's late showing up, so that you get to nod absentmindedly at some of her friends as they pass you. Katy, when she shows up, is a little less bumptious than she has been, and you can't help noticing that she won't look you in the face. "Hey, so, um, there's Megan's party tonight," she says. "I told, um, our Meghan that we'd would double with her and Caleb going out to it. Is that okay?" You reply that you already thought that was happening. "Yeah, well, um, I guess Caleb is going to pick us all up and gives us all a ride. But that won't be until, like, eight. Um." She bites her lip and gives you a small look from under her brows. "I set up a meeting with Marc before that. So we could, um—" Her eyebrows go up in a query. "Great," you say, forcing yourself to sound pleased. You're still mad at Katy on account of yesterday, but you don't want to have a fight with her. "So what's the plan?" She sags with visible relief. "Four o'clock," she says. "Over at Potsdam Park. Um, the thing we did with Hannah? At Panera? Yeah, there's been some, uh, like— Well, I said I wanted to talk to him about it, so I'm supposed to meet him there. You know the gazebo there? You can just, like, be waiting for us there? You should be early. I'll be early too. We can talk then about how we're going to, um—" You have the feeling that you should hug her, to calm her down before she comes apart on you. But you're still too ticked off. So you just nod and say it's cool and that you'll drive right out there after school. She reminds you that you'll have to stop off at the school to get the stuff. You say you'll do that. And then at lunch she says she's changed her mind, and she'll go out to the school herself to collect the things. She asks you for the key to the basement and you give it to her. Though you'd have to admit to a feeling of foreboding when you do. Katy is giving you the impression that she has some things going on that she's not telling you about. * * * * * She was right about one thing, at least. You don't hear from anybody—from anybody—about the "fight" you had yesterday with Dylan Lloyd. The basketball players in your classes? Totally ignore you. Caleb and Carson and other of your friends? Not a word. The Molester or any of the other assholes who sometimes pull you aside? Nothing. On the one hand, it's mostly a relief. But you can't help feeling a little miffed as well. Am I really that much of a pissant? you wonder. Keith seems to be mad at you, though. In second period he makes a big deal of the fact that he'll be going to a party that Maggie Crenshaw will be throwing. "I thought it was Megan Farris," you tell him. "Pshh," he sneers. "Megan Farris, who's she? You wanna know who Maggie Crenshaw is?" "She's the captain of the girls' softball team, isn't she?" Keith blinks at you. "Yeah. That's how come, you know." He twirls his finger in the air—he's always making meaningless gestures like that. "You'll wanna be hitting Maggie's party, not Megan's." "I'm going to Megan's anyway. I got a date and that's whose party she wants to go to." "Uh huh." Keith's jaw stiffens, and he stares past you. "Gonna be lame," he assures you. "Already know for a fact the cheerleaders are going to Maggie's. The cheerleaders,," he hoarsely repeats. "Awesome. Maybe you'll score with one of them." He visibly starts. Then he plays it cool, rolling his shoulders. "Sure. Anything could happen." Then like maybe you'll get hit by a meteor, you think as you turn back around in your desk. It's just as likely. * * * * * School lets out, and there's a general rush for the parking lot, for it's Friday. You loiter with Caleb awhile at his locker, coordinating plans for the evening. Both of you are playing it cool about the fact that you're going to a party with a couple of dates. There's a little escalation at the end, though, when you start speculating about how each of you is to get home if, you know, things go really well at the party with Meghan and/or Katy. Like, if I can't get away, you think you can get a ride home with someone else? Then you walk out to the parking lot together to drive off separately. You stop at home long enough to drop your stuff off, then go over to the school to see if you can catch Katy there. After a ten minute wait, you text her, and find out that she's already been by and gone ... and why (she wants to know) aren't you on your way to Potsdam Park already? She's just nervous, you tell yourself. She's already there when you arrive. She's not hard to miss either. The park is a narrow strip of grass, not much wider than the length of a football field, running along the side of the river. Katy is pacing the floor of the decorative gazebo that crowns its center. "I'm going to talk to Marc when he comes," she tells you with a fluttering nervousness. "You be off, I dunno, that way." She flaps her hand in the direction of the river. "But come right on over when you see us. I'll excuse myself, go back to my car. Here." She thrusts a blank mask at you. "Just get it onto him and off him. Then skedaddle." Next: "Grifting the Marc" |
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