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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "A Story for Michelle"  "A date?" you exclaim, and your doppelganger grins back at you. "The fuck? What kind of a—?" "Hey," Michelle interrupts you. "You're supposed to be turning Alexis back to normal." Her lips whiten as she compresses them. "Yeah, but—!" You dance on the balls of your feet and point at your twin. "He—! I—!" "Come on." Michelle gives you the kind of look that mothers give their children when they start begging for the bad kind of cereals in the grocery store. Your shoulders sag. "This date," you murmur at the other Will Prescott as you push him onto what has turned into "the changing table." "Who's it with? How did—? You said Yumi set it up?" He nods as he lays on his back. His cap falls off, and instinctively you snatch it up and set it on your own head. "She asked me out to a party last night. I met this girl goes to Eastman. Eileen something. Uh, Piper." "Hurry up," Michelle says from behind your shoulder. "Shh, hang on, this'll just take a minute. Go on," you tell your twin. He shrugs. "Tha's all. We hit it off. I'm s'posed to pick her up in an hour and hang out with her. Maybe we'll go dancing. Or, I dunno." He writhes across the desk top. "Go out to the Warehouse?" He grins. "She talked about doin' that. Or—" He rolls his tongue around inside his cheek. Then his gaze falls on something behind you—Michelle, probably—and he wilts. You lick your lips, which suddenly feel very dry. Your hands have lost a lot of their feeling as you fumble at your doppelganger's face. "Don't you have to—?" Michelle starts to ask, but she breaks off as the mask pops off the fake you's face. With a soft thud, Alexis Lachance's head falls back onto the table. Her eyes are closed and her jaw is slack. "What were you saying?" you ask Michelle, who has crowded up behind your shoulder. But she says nothing, only stares down with a gaping mouth at her friend. She looks very tomboyish, being still dressed in your clothes, and her hair is disordered. But it is her. "Uh, Michelle?" You poke her. She jumps. "Huh? Oh." She glances at you, then goes back to staring at Alexis. She swallows. "Wow. It's—" She swallows again. "It's really Alexis." "Like I told you. Um, I guess we can get my clothes off her now." Michelle comes to life again as you lay hands on your pants. "Yeah, I'll take care of that," she says, and pushes you away. "You— I dunno. Wait over there someplace." She waves at a dark corner of the room. "I'll bring your things over. Keep your head turned." You bite your tongue and shuffle off, and refrain from observing that you were Alexis until a little while ago, so you certainly know what she looked like and felt like without any clothes on. "Here," Michelle tells you a minute later as she thrusts a bundle at you. "Get dressed and wait outside. I'll— We'll—" She turns a pale face onto Alexis, who looks like she's starting to stir. "We'll come get you after I've, uh, talked to her." For a moment you almost rebel at being ordered about. But when Alexis's eyes flutter, you remember that this is why you rescued Michelle first, so that she could explain things to Alexis so as spare you that difficulty. Alexis opens her eyes, and you turn and trip as you race for the stairs. * * * * * Thirty minutes pass, and an agonizing thirty minutes it is, too. You slouch on the hood of Alexis's car, and in the cabin, and you pace between her car and Michelle's. You try to exhaust yourself with jumping jacks. And you return over and over to the texts on the cell phone that you recovered from your replacement. The texts to and from Caleb: Went to party n hung w a girl goona hookup wicher tomrorrw. Your delusional see a dctor. Fucku not gonna ask her if she got frined for u. Good i want a real girlfr not hallucntion anyway. The texts to and from Keith: met wicked cut girl at party last night. lol is she a bodybulider? *cute not cut gonna hookup withher tomrow givme free donuts n ill tell you all abut her for yu fprice is 2x. And naturally you pore intently over the texts to and from Eileen Piper herself. You can well imagine the gut-curdling fear that went into composing the opening text to her, for you get a shade of the same feeling just by reading it: Hey I had a great time last night. Want to get together again tonight? And you twitch and writhe as you read the reply: lol told u last night i did where and when? Starbucks at 5? I could pick you up. Her reply almost has you swallowing your tongue each time you read it: starbucks is that all? not worth it. We could start there n go from there. lol just teaxsing. pick me up @8 n I'll take u someplace fun. Even after reading the exchange fifty or a hundred times, that closing text leaves you sagging against a wall for support. As for the girl herself, you think you find a photo of her on the phone. At least, it's the most recent photo in the album, and it was taken last night. It's kind of blurry, and no one is looking into the lens— Well, one person is looking into the lens: a buff-looking blonde guy in a letterman jacket, who seems to be lunging into the frame as though photo-bombing the picture. But the three people in the foreground just behind that jackass are looking in other directions. One is a skinny guy in vintage clothing and a mane of curly brown hair. The second is an Asian girl (not Yumi) with long black hair. And in the middle is a small, blonde girl with curly hair hanging down just past her shoulders. She's looking away from the camera, and her tangled hair obscures her profile, so you can't really tell what she looks like. But you'd bet anything that this was a quick picture snapped shyly by your doppelganger when she wasn't looking. And unless he was trying to get a picture of some other girl who gave him a chubby, it would probably have to be this Eileen girl. Well, you can certainly find out if you want to. She's expecting you to pick her up around eight, and as you twist yourself into pretzels of indecision outside the basement door, the time drags by from a quarter before seven to a quarter after. * * * * * You are slumped behind the wheel of Alexis's car and nervously rubbing your thumb over the screen of your phone when the basement door opens. You bolt upright, and feel all the blood drain from your face as two girls emerge: Michelle and Alexis. The older girl looks very calm if a little grim. The younger one—it scarcely surprises you, for you still feel something of her personality about you—looks very pale and very shaky. She leans against Michelle for support. And when her eyes lock onto you, her mouth falls open. For a moment you stare at each other. But when Alexis doesn't look away, you crawl out of her car. No one says anything for a long moment. At last, you croak out a weak "Hey." "So I told her everything that was going on," Michelle says, and she squeezes Alexis's hand. "So what happens now?" "Is she okay?" you ask. To Alexis: "Are you okay?" Michelle answers for her. "She'll be fine. She just has to get used to things. I guess maybe I do too." Her mouth compresses into a straight line. "But what about Chelsea? What are you going to tell her?" "I dunno," you confess, and follow it with a weak shrug. "I guess tell her that we're not going to be doing that stuff anymore. I don't think we should tell anyone else about this stuff. It seems kind of dangerous." You glance nervously between the girls. It's like no one wants to talk. After having given you a long stare, Alexis is now dodging your face. Michelle also doesn't want to give you a straight look. And for your part, you're now too embarrassed to give them a square look either. At last Michelle gives a grunt. "I think Alexis and I are going to go hang out for a bit. I think I've got some messages to catch up on, too," she adds as she fumbles with her phone. "And didn't that fake you say something about having a date?" You nod. "Then I guess you won't want to skip that." Next: "Girls With Plans" |
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