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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Went With the Wind"  You stare into bottom drawer, all uncomprehending. Where the fuck is the book? You paw through the old, cast-off clothes that are stored down there. The first few days you had the book, you hid it under them, but lately you've just been dropping it into the drawer, but it's not on top now, and it's not buried under the old pants and shirts. You slam the drawer shut and tear open the others, searching through them without success. You heave the mess from your desk to the bed and sort through it. Then you look under your bed and in the closet and even in the clothes hamper in the bathroom. Nothing. You are feeling very gray in the face when you go downstairs. Your dad is napping on the sofa and your mom is knitting. But before asking her anything you go out to the garage to look through your truck, in case you moved either item there without remembering. Again, you turn up nothing. "Mom," you say when you return inside. "I lost a book. Have you seen it?" You describe it, but she shakes her head and she shakes her head again when you describe the mask you lost (which you explain as a prop that a friend at school loaned you). By now you are cold and angry all over. There can be only one explanation for what has happened. You charge upstairs and bust into your brother's room without even knocking. Robert is at his computer, playing a game, and he jumps and whirls when you slam the door open. Fear and surprise momentarily show in his face, then he flushes. But you start yelling—well, growling—before he can say anything. "Alright, listen to me, you little piece of pimply shit. You give them back, and you give them back right now." "Give what back?" he asks, bewildered. "Mom!" You shut the door and lock it. "You do not want Mom up here," you warn him. "I already told her I can't find them, and if she comes up here and finds out you're the one who took them—" "Took what?" "My book and my mask!" He stares. "The fuck are you talking about?" "Don't you fucking drop any f-bombs on me, you little fuck! I know you took them!" "I didn't take any—! Mom!" You tackle him in his chair, trying to wrestle him into submission. He kicks and twists, but you're heavier than him and on top of him. But when there's a knock at the door, and he starts yelling again, you break off. You are burning with rage, but your heart is also cold with fear as you go to the door and rip it open. Your mom, her eyes popping, stands in the doorway. "What is all this racket up here?" she hisses. "If you wake your father—" "Robert took my stuff!" "I did not ! Mom, he—!" "Quiet! Both of you!" She pushes you inside and shuts the door behind her. "Now if one or either of you can explain to me in a civilized voice what you're yelling about, let's see if we can get it sorted out without waking your dad!" So you tell her that Robert is always going through your things and that he took that book and mask you were telling her about, and Robert hotly denies ever doing any such thing (and says he'd rather go tramping through a sewer than go into your room), and when your mom asks if you've got proof that Robert took your things you can only tell her that they're not in the house and that he must have been the one to take them. Her brow lowers. "That doesn't mean your brother took them, Will," she says. "You took them someplace or you just haven't looked in the right spot." "But Mom—!" She raises a warning finger, then turns to Robert. "Did you take Will's book and mask?" "No!" She gives him a hard stare, then looks at you. "I'll accept what your brother just said. Will you?" Obviously you don't, but you also know you can't tell her that you don't. So through gritted teeth you say, "Yes." "Okay. Then that's all settled. I don't want to hear any more about it, from either you," she says as she looks between you. "If I hear one word about this, under any circumstances, I will ground you both. And I'll ground you," she tells you, "for twice as long as I ground Robert." You're looking at her, so you don't see Robert's face as she says this. "So if there is something going on here, if one of you did take something from the other, as a prank or a joke, I strongly advise that you return it, and that the two of you work it out between you without involving me or your father. Do you understand?" "Yes'm," you and your brother so say, almost in unison. "Good. And stay out of each other's rooms." She gives you each one more glower, then leaves. Your face is burning when you turn toward Robert. His face is also very red, and his eyes are flashing. "You heard her," you growl. "Give them back." "I. Didn't. Take them!" "Then where are they?" "Up your butt, or someplace!" Your fists bunch up, but you force yourself to relax. You even wrench a clumsy smile onto your face. "Okay, like Mom says, I believe you," you tell him. "I guess they're somewhere in my room. Boy, will I look like an idiot when I go back in there, tonight or tomorrow or sometime, and there they are, sitting on top of my bed in plain sight. I'll have to crawl back here to apologize. And then I'll have to crawl to Mom, and tell her that I was totally wrong and that I found them. I'll even ask her to ground me for a week, as punishment for accusing you of something you didn't do. You hear all that?" You lean over him. "I will ask her to ground me because—" "Yeah yeah," Robert mutters. "Get out of here. Maybe your shit will turn up. I hope it does." He turns back to his desk and slumps into his chair. You stare at the back of his head, then leave, pulling the door shut behind you. * * * * * Carlos calls you back, and you talk to him about his and his friends' trip to the basement. He tells you that they found the lock gone from the door when they got there. As for what they found inside, he says there wasn't anything except a bunch of old school furniture and equipment. No bags of dirt? you ask. No plastic sacks with bags and boxes of things? He says no. Did you find a book there, in red leather covers? He says they didn't. All they did, according to him, was move some desks and shelves around, to try to give it a more atmospheric look, before giving up and leaving. You leave the house, making sure that Robert notes your exit, and drive back over to the school to make another search yourself. You turn up nothing, not even so much as a receipt. You wander around to the other side of the school, where the community center proper is, in what looks like was once the cafeteria. There's a woman working on a computer there, and a man in a tan security guard's uniform—like a mall cop's—and as casually as you can you sound them out about the school and its history. Eventually you twist the talk around to odd architectural features, and with studied neutrality you mention that there's a door on the other side of the building that looks like it goes down to a basement. All that you learn is that there is a basement, which is used to store old equipment, but that nobody ever goes down there. Of course, that doesn't mean that someone didn't try to go down there yesterday, and found your padlock and cut it off, and cleaned you out. After all, the guard might know that happened, but even if he did, why would he tell a random kid? So you are still left mystified and frustrated. You drive around for a little bit, then return home. Your heart is beating with faint hope and anticipation as you mount the stairs, but when you look inside your room, there is no book with a red leather cover balanced atop the mess you left on your bed, and no mask. With a sigh you settle down to sort everything out and straighten up a room that probably hasn't been sorted and cleaned since the start of summer. The place looks a lot nicer when you are done, but your heart is still heavy, for there is no sign of the book and mask. Again, you wander all through the house, poking around to see if it might have got picked up and set down and forgotten someplace, but you have no luck. Your mind is a blank when you go to bed, and you can only lay on your side and stare at the empty desk on the other side of your room. * * * * * It's with a heavy heart that you trudge to school the next morning, and though the heaviness gradually dissipates, there's a bad buzzing in the back of your brain all day, as you can't stop thinking about your missing stuff. Your distraction is such that Sean, at work, chides you for it. "Your mind's a million miles away, Will," he says. "Just ... thinking about stuff." "Homework? Hey, there's a party going on tonight. I missed you last Friday. Wanna hit this one?" You frown. "Today's Monday. Who has a party on—?" "Josie Holden. It's a study thing, makes it okay." He grins. "Gonna be a lot of girls in sexy shorts and t-shirts there. It's invite only, but I think I can get you in." Next: "A Sean of Ice and Fire" |
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