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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Noses Out of Joint"  By the time the final bell of the day rings, you've decided to stay after school, just as a break from routine, if nothing else. But where to hang out? Because even though it would be good to get your homework done, what you're really looking for is something to distract you. Something that isn't one of the same old distractions like you've used a thousand times before. You start by roaming the halls, just in case you run into someone, but that's a bust. Then you decide to go looking for Carson and James in Mr. Carr's classroom. But the door there is locked and the lights are out. You scan the rest of the rooms in the science wing, but it's only teachers in them. You make a circuit of the school grounds, making special notice of the space in front of the old portables, but that's empty too. Vexed, you wind up in the library, which is the last place you wanted to land. You linger for a few moments, studying the faces of the students there, none of whom give you so much as a glance back, then decide to bag it. What a waste, you fume to yourself. But just as you're exiting the library, you run into Jenny Ashton. "Oh hey, Will!" She jumps. "What are you still doing up here?" "Looking for someone to hang out with," you blurt out before you can catch yourself. "What are you doing up here?" She reacts with a tight smile. "Just got through hanging out with someone. You on your way out? Come walk with me to my locker." "Who were you hanging out with?" you ask. "Yumi, in the orchestra room." "Yeah?" You fall in beside her as she hustles down the hallway. "I, uh, I heard Paul's feeling kind of, um—" "Hey, Mr. Montague!" Jenny sings out. The teacher is lounging inside the doorway to his room, frowning at his cell. "How's the freshman class this year?" He looks up, and seems to retrieve his attention from very far away. "Oh hey, Jenny. They're fine. They're— Jenny!" he calls sharply, and she stops to turn back to him. "Do you have a minute?" "I guess. I'm just on my home." "Well— Could you come in here? I want to talk to you about the Mentor's Club. Since you're asking about freshmen." "Oh, sure. I'm not in Mentor's Club, but—" "Oh, I know that. I'm their adviser, so— Well, do you have time to talk?" "Sure." She glances uncertainly at you. "It'll just be for a minute," Mr. Montague says, "so if your friend wants to wait too." You shrug, and follow the both into the classroom. You've never had Mr. Montague, for he teaches the AP English classes. He's a youngish guy, probably in his early thirties, with mild eyes and a brown, close-trimmed beard. There is something slightly ... femme ... in his body language, and you've heard other students claim that he's gay or at least bi-. He's very fussy as he starts putting the things on his desk away without paying attention to you or Jenny, except to say, with a grimace, that he has to go get something from the office before he can talk to Jenny, and he's muttering to himself as he leaves. Jenny gives you a pitying look. "You can go if you want, Will," she says. "I'm going straight home from here." "That's okay, I'll wait with you. Or I'll go when he gets back." You pause. "You don't want to talk about Paul or Yumi, do you?" She makes a face. "You know he's got a crush on her." Well, dur, you think. Paul does everything but walk around with a sign on his neck reading I'VE GOT A GIANT CRUSH ON YOU, YUMI. "Well, he and Yumi got into kind of a tiff—" "What?" "Nothing huge," she assures you. "She got kind of snippy with him, and he's so sensitive—" "When was this?" "After cheerleader practice this morning. Totally the wrong time to try talking to Yumi, which he knows, because he said he went out to the gym to 'be there' for her after practice." She groans. "Oh, he's such a sweet, dumb goofball. But she—" Her phone vibrates, and she checks it. "Hang on," she says. "I'll be right back." She vanishes into the hallway, leaving you alone. You fall into a desk when she doesn't immediately return, to sit with crossed arms to ponder the sandy waste of arid emotions that separates Paul Davis from Yumi Saito. Paul is a dweeb who you don't pay much attention to. There's not much to say or think about when it comes to him. He's just a regular kid. He hasn't got the same "science nerd" vibe as Carson and James, either, but seems normal and well-adjusted. He's fairly good-looking too, you suppose, with short, brown hair, an open countenance, and a wide, happy smile that one girl, when you were freshman, told you was very "cute." The trouble is that he doesn't seem to have any interests or quirks. He's not into movies or music or games; he's not noticeably smart; he's just quiet and inoffensive and makes no trouble for anyone. And though he doesn't shrink up and disappear, like some guys you know, he just seems to bob along with a slightly panicked grin, doing his best not to bump into anyone. Maybe, you think as you slouch further in your seat, that's why you don't like thinking about him. The awful thought wouldn't have occurred to you if Carson hadn't said anything about you and your "rut," but— You don't have any interests either. And you don't have any luck with girls either. Maybe you're just as bland and personality-free as Paul. So you have empathize with him and his situation, even though your sympathies are much more strongly with Yumi. Because you'd find it pretty damn awkward if a girl as bland and personality-free as Paul Davis acted like a puppy dog around you. Your hat flies off onto the desk in front of you, startling you badly. But before you can react with other than the panicked thought, It's the Molester! Or Javits! Or some other asshole looking hassle me! you are slapped hard on the back of the head, and everything goes dark. * * * * * "Hey. Hey. Come on, sweetheart. Wake up." The world is a throbbing sensation of blood-red pain, sitting right atop your left eyeball, when next you are conscious of being shaken. You groan and grimace and wrench your eyes open. Mr. Montague, with a pale look of alarm on his face, is peering down at you. "Yeah, there you go, honey, come on and wake up." You are on the floor with school desks looming up around you. You are also chilly all over, and your limbs are stiff as you lever yourself upright. Mr. Montague scrambles away from you. "Okay, are you girls alright?" he says to someone out of view. "Okay, you all get yourselves straightened out." His voice sounds strangled. "I'll be right outside while you get yourselves together. You! What's your name! You in your clothes yet?" "Just about," someone croaks. "That's good enough, out the door, eyes forward. Hey! Eyes forward, I said!" The teacher hurries away, and there's the sound of a door closing. You sit up and pull your knees to your chest, clasping your arms around your legs. You are naked, you realize with a start, but that headache above your eye is extremely distracting. There's something else wrong, but you can't put your finger on it. Two figures comes swimming into view: Jenny and another girl, both looking very aghast. You gape numbly at them, for they are stripped to their panties and bras, and as you watch they start fumbling on some blouses. "Are you okay?" Jenny asks you. "Um, I think so?" You press your fingertips to that throbbing spot, and it recedes a little. "What happened?" Jenny and the other girl exchange an uneasy glance, even as they continue dressing. Jenny, in a husky voice, says, "You better get dressed." "Yeah. The fuck am I naked for? I—" You gasp after dropping your knees. Your chest— There's two giant tumors hanging off it! You shriek and scramble back across the floor. It takes you a moment to reorient your brain, to shake it free of the horror of the two bags of cancerous cells that are sagging from your chest, and to see that are really just breasts. Engorged, swollen, heavy, utterly alien things, but they are only breasts. Human breasts. Female breasts. Though even that last thought takes awhile to form, and not until after you've looked past them and yelped at the discovery that your cock and balls have vanished. * * * * * Jenny and the other girl quickly hush up your scream, with the other girl—a pale, skinny redhead with lank hair and too much mascara—muffles your cry and covers your eyes with her hand. "Sh! Shh!" she tries comforting you. "Just hang on, it's okay. What's her name?" she asks Jenny. "What's her name?" "M-melanie," Jenny stammers. "Melanie? Does that sound right?" she says to you. "Hey. Melanie?" She drops her hand from your eyes. "What's your name?" Your eyes rolled in their sockets. "What?" "What's your name?" the girl repeats in a firmer tone. You look up at Jenny, in fear and confusion. Her face is very pale, and her eyebrows knitted together with fear. "W-will?" "Will what?" "Will Prescott?" you stammer. Your head is reeling with confusion. "Fuck." The girl looks up at Jenny. "Okay, let's cut to the chase. Does that make you, um— Brianna Gould?" Jenny looks stricken, but she nods. "That's great, that's just fucking great," the girl fumes. "Please, is this some kind of nightmare?" Jenny asks in a pleading voice. "Some kind." The girl's expression is very hard. "Because if this here is Will, then who's that Mr. Montague took with him out into the hall?" Jenny stares at you. Then she puts the back of her hand to her mouth, to stifle a scream of her own. Next: "The Naked Truth" |
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