%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Alexis's Gang"  What? God! Get myself a boyfriend? No, you hastily correct yourself before the words can come squealing out of you. Get Alexis a boyfriend. Except the whole point of this impersonation was to use Alexis to get you a boyfriend. No! A girlfriend, Will! A girlfriend! "Hey, it's okay," Michelle says. She pulls you into a hug. "Why are you shaking?" You're not just shaking. Your nose is starting to run, and you can feel your tear ducts loosen. Dammit, it was like Michelle pushed a button or something! "I'm okay," you sniff. "There's nothing to be scared of. Roman and them, they all like you. They'd all be asking you out, but— Hey!" You almost fall over as your knees buckle. "Alix! What's wrong?" You swipe an eye with the back of your hand. You can't tell her But I'm not Alexis, I'm a guy, and I don't want a boyfriend! At the same time, you feel yourself so wound up in Alexis's own confusions that you yourself can hardly think straight. "It's no good," you finally stammer. Michelle—who is very tall—ducks her head to look into your face. Her expression is grave. "They just need a little nudge, is all." "Why, are they scared of me?" You hiccup—you're shaking that hard—and laugh nervously. Michelle touches the side of your face, pushing one of the dangling bangs away. "All those guys upstairs care for you, Alix. They'd do anything for you." At her words, you dissolve into tears. More than tears, you dissolve into heaving, gulping sobs. Michelle pulls you close again, pressing your face gently into her shoulder. You rest there for what seems a long time. It's very comfortable there. Michelle makes you feel safe. There's something very motherly about her. She is wise and sober and she never gets excited, and you feel like you can let all of Alexis's fears and vexations and griefs pour out and onto her ample bosom. And, of course, that bosom is another reason you like being held by her. I'm hugging a cheerleader, and she's hugging me back! Footsteps squeak on the linoleum. You don't look up or around, though, and after a pause they retreat. Finally, the shudders and sobs subside, and when you look up again Michelle helps you dry your eyes and wash your face. "I didn't mean to set you off," she says. "No, it's okay. I shouldn't— I'm just being stupid." "About what? Not about the guys, is it?" "Yes, about them. No, about me. " You might start crying again, but you've not got many tears left at the moment. Instead, you take a deep breath and plunge into the kind of explanation that Alexis would give—because it's one that Alexis would feel. "I'm scared." "It's always going to be a little scary," Michelle says with soft sympathy. "But Justin and James and Roman, and Jesse, any of the guys, they're the best you could—" "No, I'm not scared of them. I'm scared of—" You take another breath, close your eyes, and rest your palm on your own bosom. "I'm scared that—" You gulp. "What if—?" It's so hard to say. "My heart," is what you finally settle on. You know that she'll know what you mean, for all of Alexis's friends know of her health. "If something happens ..." You trail off. "Oh, Alix." Michelle's tone turns reproachful. "You can't let that scare you off." "Why not?" She grimaces. "You can't run away from being happy, just because you're scared something will take it away from you. That's like— Like giving all your money away because you're scared of being robbed!" "But what if it causes me to—!" You gulp again. "I have to be careful! Really careful! Because if I don't—" "You're afraid of the stress?" Michelle frowns. "There wouldn't be any stress, not with ... whoever." "Maybe not stress, but what about excitement? If I get too excited—" "You're always getting excited, Alix." Oh God, she's right! You're doing it now! Stress and worry and fear! You haven't been this excited since ...! Well, since this morning, probably, but you need to calm down. Now! "I could get really excited, Michelle," you tell her meekly. "This isn't excited? Not for you?" She lifts an eyebrow. "Not this kind of excitement! Not this way! Oh God, never mind!" You spin around and bury your face in your hands, for both you and Alexis are horrified by what you realize you're implying. But Michelle has penetrated your meaning too. "Oh," she says. "Are you talking about, um—?" "Never mind!" You blush furiously into your hands, and try driving from your head the image of yourself cuming furiously while Roman, crouching over you, rams a long, thick, and diamond-hard cock inside you. Michelle clasps you from behind. "Things don't have to go that far!" But maybe I want them to go that far! thinks the Alexis-addled part of your brain. Nehnehnehnehneh! yells the part that is solidly yourself, but the harder you try not thinking of Roman and his smooth, hard, bare torso, lightly filmed with sweat, the more clearly you can imagine him inside you and crushing you in his brawny arms. "Look, I won't say anything to anyone if you don't want me to," Michelle murmurs in your ear. "But someone's going to say something to you eventually. I know it, Alix. You better be ready for it." "I'll think about it," you whisper back, and wilt inside her embrace. * * * * * Michelle goes back upstairs while you clean up and put yourself back together in a downstairs bathroom. Your knees are knocking as you mount the steps and return to the game room. No one remarks on your extended absence, and none of them apparently cares. But you can't shake the feeling that they all noticed, and were talking about it, and about you, and that Michelle warned them to all shut up about it and to treat you normally. Otherwise, the evening is a great success. An intimate little Friday entertainment with your closest friends, modeled on the kind of party that (according to Craig) Kelsey Blankenship has for all her friends every Saturday night. Food, games, conversation, everyone comfortable with each other, and no horrible surprises, like during that one party Alexis threw a few weeks ago, where it seemed like most of the school showed up, and where someone opened the linen closet door and found Ryder Hillberger with his pants down around his knees and Harmony Keener's mouth wrapped around his cock. Even the game of Twister, when it gets opened up, is tame, with Alec and Sabrina and Eric and Julian being the only players as everyone else watches and laughs and claps at the ersatz, fully-clad four-way that ensues. There's no more drama, either, of the sort that upset you down in the kitchen, though there are two fraught moments when it looks like first Jesse and then later Douglas catch you alone and act like they're on the verge of asking you a Very Significant Question. Things wrap up by one-thirty, though, and by two o'clock Michelle and Erin have left, having helped you clean up the game room and the kitchen. You yourself are so exhausted you barely have the concentration to enjoy changing into linen pajamas and slipping into a satiny bed. Even your last thoughts before drifting to sleep, of Roman's smiling face pressing close to your own, don't disturb you. * * * * * "So it looks like you were having fun," Chelsea says. She winks at you over the top of her cell phone, then returns to swiping through the images. They are, of course, photos you took of the party last night, from your vegetable medley through the game of Twister, the poker hand you used to win five dollars out of Craig and James and Rebecca, and a very tired Erin being carried out at the end of the night by her husky boyfriend. You didn't have to tell Chelsea where to look for them; you only had to mention that you'd taken some. You're up in the gym loft on this Saturday afternoon. You woke late but cleaned up fast and rushed out a little after lunch in answer to Chelsea's summoning text. Naturally, you didn't alert your friends to this second meeting with the head cheerleader. "So, no pictures of you playing Twister?" Chelsea titters. "I didn't play." "Was that out of character?" She titters again. "No, I was in character. Alexis doesn't— Never mind." But your words have caught Chelsea's attention. "Alexis doesn't what?" "No, it's nothing." "Come on, Will." Chelsea's eyes narrow, and her silken voice turns steely. "Tell me." "It's nothing, Chelsea." You clench your fists so you won't start shaking again. "Alix just isn't into, well, guys." "You could fool me." She swipes through a bunch of pictures. "Looks to me like she's crushing hard on all of them." You shrug, then blurt it out. "She's got a heart condition. A defect. She doesn't want to get 'excited'." Chelsea's expression falls; in fact, it's probably the first time you've ever seen her look wrong-footed. "Whoa! Seriously?" "Yes. Don't spread it around, okay?" "Sure. But what's that got to do with—?" "She tries not to get excited." You raise a meaningful eyebrow. Chelsea stares at you, then clucks her tongue. "Well, that's no reason that you can't take advantage of things and get excited for her." You freeze at a sudden thought. Why not bring Alexis back, and show her the masks ... and give her a chance to experience a fear-free life as someone else? Next: "Friends and Anti-Friends" |
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
