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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Show and Tell for Two"  Scott and Brendan both seem interested in the book, so when you cautiously suggest trying out the first spell, they are both agreeable. But when you suggest making shopping expedition to pick up supplies, they both demur. "Gotta get home for supper," Scott says, and Brendan nods. You need to get home too, of course, but somehow they maneuver you into volunteering to buy all the necessary supplies. They don't even volunteer to reimburse you, and there seems to be some unspoken assumption that they'll hang out and watch while you do the actual work. You're not exactly happy with you part, and you can't help noticing that as the two ballplayers walk out together, neither of them waits up for you, or even looks around to see if you're accompanying them. * * * * * It's Friday, and if you had any ambition at all you'd be out looking for a party. But you've never really been one to party, and neither Caleb nor Keith are available when you text them, so you spend the night at home, streaming one movie on your laptop while scrolling through YouTube videos on your phone. The next day is warm and sunny, with temperatures forecast to hit the mid-eighties. After showering and eating breakfast, you make up a shopping list, then text Scott to see if he wants to hit the crafts stores with you. He replies that he's going to an exhibition soccer match between the Eastman and Westside girls' soccer teams, but you should text him when you're done. You're tempted to blow him off, but decide to wait until after you've got the stuff before deciding whether to keep it all to yourself or to share it. It takes you a couple of hours of running around, from arts and crafts stores to garden nurseries, to collect it all, and you're hot, blown, and more than a little grumpy by the time you've got it all together. It cost a lot more than you bargained for, too. Luckily, the last of your birthday money is enough to cover it all, but as you text Scott to tell him you've got the stuff, you are silently fuming that someone had better help you cover the expense. Your temper isn't improved by his curt reply: Cool. When he doesn't follow up, you ask if the game is over and he's ready to meet you someplace. That at least earns you a longer reply: Lol ya dun I'm at dolce vita n at south creek come by if u want. It takes you a moment to decipher the message, then you look up and around with a frown. You're parked at the South Creek Shopping Center, in front of Michael's. Is Scott somewhere around here? Your eye finally lights on a small sign at the end of the center: Dolce Vita Gelato. At least it'll be easy to find him. The gelato shop is long and narrow and very, very white: white floor, white walls and ceiling, white countertops, white tables, and wrought-iron chairs that have also been painted white. Perhaps because of all that white, it's easy to see the faint grime that's everywhere, so that the place feels dingy and worn out. At least a dozen teenagers are crowded up near the door, around a couple of tables that have been pushed together. Their voices bounce loudly off the hard surfaces of the shop. Scott's in the middle of them, and though he's not the only blonde in the pack, his close-shorn hair shines brightly. He sits in a hunch, but is grinning and laughing with the others. You give him a moment to look around and see you, then when he doesn't you lean over into his eye line. His eyes pop, and he jumps a little. "Jesus, man!" he exclaims. "What, were you hiding in the bathroom?" "I was over at Michaels." You look over the others, whose upturned faces have swiveled in your direction. You don't recognize a single one of them. "Well, get a chair and a gelato," Scott says. "Hey everyone, this is, uh—" "Will." "Yeah, Will, he goes to Westside with me. We're in Astronomy together." "Are you a space cadet?" asks the girl nearest you. Her coppery hair drizzles down the side and back of her head in loose, sloppy ringlets, and she ogles you mischievously. "What?" "Are you a space cadet? You're into space"—she giggles—"so are you a space cadet?" "Don't pay any attention to Eileen," says dark-haired boy whose buzz cut fairly bristles. "She's a space cadet." The girl squeals and pinches him in the shoulder. You've no money for overpriced Italian ice cream, but you do grab a chair and squeeze in between Scott and a girl whose sheet-like platinum hair is parted straight up the middle to disclose very black roots. Scott only makes a few introductions, and you glean only that everyone here except you and Scott attends Eastman High, and that the guy with the bristly black hair is on the Eastman basketball team, and is named "Jordan." You can't help feeling surprise that Scott would be fraternizing with "the enemy"—Westside and Eastman, and especially their sports teams, are arch-rivals—but you say nothing. There's no room for you to insert yourself into the conversation, and no one seems very interested in you, so you just eavesdrop and keep your mouth shut. Talk is cryptic and allusive and hard to follow given that there's about three different conversations going, but you gradually glean that most everyone here attended the soccer meet, and that they all (including Scott) were at the same party last night. It was at the house of someone named "Joshua," but it's several minutes before you actually pair that name with a frizzy-haired kid sitting across the table from you. With his sleepy eyes and his dazed smile, he looks like he took a massive bong hit a couple of years ago, and it hasn't worn off yet. Eventually, though, you notice that the girl with the dark roots is peering at you with a quizzical smile. When she notices that you've noticed, she says, "You look like Adam, you know that?" "Adam?" "Yeah. You know Adam?" "Uh—" "Doesn't he look like Adam?" She turns to her neighbor, a Latina girl, one side of whose head is dyed purple. "Karter?" says Jordan. His glance is skeptical. "No." "I think he does. Are you his cousin?" "I don't— What's his name?" "Adam Karter," says Jordan. "And you don't look anything like him." "Yes he does," the girl insists. "Everyone raise your hand if you think— What's your name again?" "Will." "If you think Will looks like Adam." She's the only one to raise her hand. Most of the other girls giggle, and the guys exchange knowing grins. Finally, the girl with the coppery curls half-raises a tentative palm. "There! Eileen sees it!" "I—" "Izzy, take a picture of him." "You take a picture," says the girl with the half-purple hair. "You're the professional." "Pss! My camera's in the car!" "What's wrong with your iPhone?" asks Jordan. The girl rolls her eyes, but digs inside her purse. She pulls out her cell phone and turns it on you. You feel your eyes and lips twist up in embarrassment as the shutter clicks. "There!" she says as she bends over the phone. "I've got you in my— What's your last name?" "Prescott." "Will ... Prescott," she murmurs as she types with her thumbs. Awkward as it was, at least it gets you some attention, and a few questions get lobbed your way. Were you at the soccer meet? No. Do you play basketball? Not really. Do you have a girlfriend? Um ... I just broke up with one. That gets you some long looks and raised eyebrows from a few of the girls. "Will's into magic," Scott says. Your heart goes sideways. "You mean like pulling rabbits out of hats?" asks a guy. "Is that how you got rid of your girlfriend, you sawed her in half?" laughs another. "Show us a card trick," says a girl. "Not that kind of magic," says Scott. "Real magic. Harry Potter stuff." More laughter, but it's derisive, and you shoot Scott a slit-eyed glare, which he completely fails to notice. At least the subject gets changed almost immediately after, and they all go back to ignoring you. * * * * * But someone is still interested, apparently. First in a pair, then in a trio and some singles, people drift off in answer to summons on their cell phones, until it's just you and Scott and Joshua and Eileen. You can't help noticing that Eileen is giving you long, speculative looks. It's unnerving enough that when Scott excuses himself to the restroom, you follow. He's washing his hands when you catch up to him. "So, are we going to go find Brendan or something?" you ask. "I got the stuff I was supposed to buy." "Oh, sure," he says. "I'll text and see if he can turn loose." He dries his hands and takes out his phone. "You really want to do that now?" "Sure, that's how come I came looking for you." Scott pauses to look up at you from under his brows. "What?" "Nothing, I guess," he says, and goes back to typing. "Only, Eileen is totally into you." "What?" "Sure. Are you freaking blind?" Scott's assertion staggers you, so you don't know what to say. "If you want," he says, "I can take the stuff and meet up with Brendan, we can play with it. You can hook up with us later, after you and Eileen—" He puts the phone to his ear, and winks broadly at you. Next? Vote in the poll: "One Giant Leap for Will Prescott" |
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