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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Double, Double, Toil and Trouble"  Fuck Caleb. You can't put your finger on why he's responsible for this disaster. But there's no missing the coincidence between that weird-ass call he made to you this morning—Dude, call your dad and tell him he has to come out to the school to check out a problem with your truck!—and the story your mom and dad told to explain your grounding. But you'd love to talk to Rachel. Except you're grounded. For the moment, though, you can shoot her a quick reply: Hang on, brb. You tiptoe downstairs, on the lookout for your mom, and make it to your dad's study without running into her. He looks up from behind his desk with a serious expression. "I forgot to tell you," you say after shutting the door. "I made plans to get together with, um, someone for a study session tonight." "You're grounded," he replies. "Yeah, I know. But this is actually more of a tutoring session." "You're grounded," he repeats. "She's really smart, Dad, way smarter than me! And—" "'She'?" Your dad's eyebrows go up. "Yeah, she—" "You're not going on a date while you're grounded." Your dad's voice falls into a growl. "It's not a date, I swear!" Please don't strike me dead with lightning, you pray to any gods that might be frowning at your half-lie. "Can we study here? In the dining room? For thirty minutes?" you plead. "So you can see I'm serious?" "You can't get any real studying done in thirty minutes." "But—!" "Hold on." Your dad sits back in his chair and gives you a very long and speculative look. "She's tutoring you?" he finally says. You grimace. "It's less embarrassing if you call it 'studying together' but basically ... yeah." "Tonight?" You nod, and gulp. He stares you down for a very long time. Then, with a deep sigh, he leans forward in his chair. "Okay, tell you what, ask her to come out here. But you're not having a tutorial. I'm going to interview her for the position. And if I like what I hear, you'll have these tutorials every night. Not just when you feel like looking at a pretty girl." Again, you nod and gulp. But your heart sinks. "What if she doesn't want to do it every night?" "Then she doesn't want the job." "But Dad! There's no way she's going to want to— I mean, she's got a life!" "Does she have a job? I'll pay her for this. Salary negotiable, but I'll make it attractive. If," he adds as your heart leaps, "she's worth what I'm prepared to pay." "Yes sir!" Your dad stretches across his desk to hand you your phone. "Set it up for her to come by tonight. Oh, and Will," he says as you turn to the door. "Delete the messaging app from your laptop and tell your friends not to bother texting or calling you. You're grounded." You make a face, but nod. * * * * * You quickly outline the situation to Rachel via text. She sounds ambivalent about taking a job as your tutor, but she does agree to come by to talk to your dad. Caleb pesters you a few more times while you're talking to Rachel, but you delete his texts without replying, then delete (as per order) the messaging app from your computer, and return your phone to your dad. He tells you to stay upstairs—out of sight and out of danger as he puts it—and to leave Rachel to him. Still, you can hardly suppress your excitement when you hear a car in the driveway, and your heart ricochets off your ribcage when the doorbell rings. You pace your room, jumping and twisting and punching excitedly at the air. It seems forever before there's a soft knock at your door, and your dad comes in. "That is one damned impressive girl," he says after he's shut the door. "You've got yourself a tutor." "I told you she was smart!" He gives you a sidelong look. "Yes, she is." Then he says, "You're really excited for this." "Well—" You blush. "I wanna get my grades up." "Uh huh. Well, I told her I'd be administering some quizzes of my own, to check your progress. She gets bonuses based on how well you progress. And if you don't progress, then she gets fired." You feel your face fall. "So you better apply yourself, son. I'm taking a big risk myself, agreeing to this while your mom is still so mad at you." Then he puts out his hand. "Your phone," he reminds you. "You can tell the girl tomorrow how excited you are to start." Despite the awfulness of the day, you are almost bursting with happiness even after you hand your phone over. * * * * * Your mom is barely polite to you the next morning at breakfast, and you can tell by your dad's face that he is feeling the Arctic chill as well. It's a relief to escape the house, even though it is cold and rainy and you have to stand at the corner for ten minutes with nothing to read or look at online while waiting for the bus. At school, you find that Caleb has finally returned from his recent vacation. You try to snub him, but when he says "Hey" to you, you turn to give him a glower. "I'm grounded," you tell him. "Oh?" he says, sounding unconcerned. "Wha'd you do?" You almost fly out of your desk at him. "I didn't do anything! I didn't do a fucking thing! But my dad—!" You're so furious you can hardly speak. "My dad left work to come up to the school yesterday, to check on my truck, because supposedly it wouldn't start!" His eyes widen. "Whoa, really? What was the deal?" "There was no deal! There was nothing—! What the fuck was that about yesterday, when you called? You wanted me to call him and say my truck wouldn't start! And then— Well, then he wound up here at school, checking to see if my truck wouldn't start!" Caleb looks confused. Or at least he tries to look confused. There's a shiftiness about his eyes. "Well, I didn't have anything to do with it. I didn't call him. Did you?" "No!" "Then who did?" You grimace. You could tell him that it was your mom who made the call, but then you'd have to tell him about your supposed appearance at home, and how she's convinced you came home yesterday morning when you didn't. And that would be too weird a thing to try to explain. You slump in your desk. "Never mind," you mutter. "But my folks are mad at me and now I'm grounded." "Well, it's not like you have a life anyway, Will." You get up and go find another seat. But Mr. Walberg makes you move back when class starts. * * * * * You do have one idea for getting out of trouble with your mom. You were at school all day, and you've got witnesses to prove it. Teachers. So after class you ask Mr. Walberg for a note stating that you were in class yesterday. He looks askance, but says he'll write something for you to take home, and that you can pick it up from him this afternoon. Mr. Hawks, in second period, is quicker to comply, and with a poker face immediately scrawls out a note for you. Afterwards, though, you're not sure it will do you much good. His scribble is indecipherable. But then the whole plan falls apart in third period. Mr. Peters—an avuncular, middle-aged man with a chuckle and a dull-as-ditch-water lecture style—says that he doesn't remember you being in class yesterday, and when you ask him to check his attendance record he only laughs and confesses he doesn't even bother taking attendance. "I just fake it," he tells you with a wide smile. "Well, I was here yesterday," you insist. "So could you write a note to my mom saying—" "I couldn't swear you were here, Will." He chuckles again, good-naturedly. "A note to your folks would be like swearing to it, and I couldn't swear to it." He sends you back to your seat with a pat to the shoulder. Fucking stupid jerk-wad asshole, you mutter to yourself after you're slumped in your seat. This class is right in the middle of the time you were supposed to be at home, leaving a giant hole in your alibi. And you don't have any friends in here who could swear to your presence yesterday—not that their word would carry any weight with your parents anyway. * * * * * So you're in a foul mood at the start of English—but it evaporates the moment that Rachel walks in through the door. She looks directly at you and comes over with a smile and a "Hey Will." Her voice is soft and deep, and her eyes twinkly. "So I guess we're going to be studying together." "Uh, yeah," you gasp. "Thanks." "Thank you," she replies. "Your dad was really generous." "So, are we getting together tonight?" You are erect with more than hope. "Sure," she says. "But you're grounded, right?" "Right. So we have to do it over at my place in the dining room." "Sounds fine to me. We can snack while we work." She gives you a trailing glance over her shoulder as she glides over to her seat. Caleb is giving you a look when you turn back around in your chair. "Nothing," he says when you ask what he's staring at. "So that's your study partner. Interesting." * * * * * You hang back after class, to go with Rachel in to lunch, and that's how you only just miss witnessing it: Gordon Black grabbed Caleb and hauled him off right after class let out. You don't hear about it, though, until you bump into Carson Ioeger on your way to the cafeteria. You're pissed at Caleb, but the news still shocks you. "You know what it's about?" you ask Carson. "No," he says, "but I know how we can find out." He gives Rachel a narrow glance, then adds in a low voice, "You have to shake the skirt, though." Next: "The Interrogatory Mode" |
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