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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Streams of Consciousness"  "Jenny?" Both girls at the name. "Real Jenny?" you correct yourself. "Can I go home with you?" Brianna puts out her hand, and you take it as you turn to Will. "Is there anything I need to know?" you ask him. "Like texts I might get from your friends? Your classes? Your schedule?" Your heart sinks as you face the size of the challenge before you—taking over the life of a girl you don't know. Will chews on the inside of his cheek. "I guess I'll have to text that stuff to you." "What about her homework?" Brianna asks. Will grimaces. "You should try your best?" "I mean, what's her homework for tonight?" "I'll text her that too." An awkward silence falls. Then Brianna says, "Well, I guess we'll go. This is too weird, just standing around here like this." "Don't mess anything up for me," Jenny mutters. "Don't you mess anything up for me!" Jenny glares at the girl in her old body, but Will pulls her away. "Come on," he says, "let's go." As they drift off toward their cars, you hear him add, "We should go talk someplace," but you don't hear what Jenny replies. Brianna leads you back to her car. Her mouth is set in a grim line, and you don't dare interrupt her thoughts until you're buckled in, when you say, in a small voice, "Thanks so much for letting me go with you." "Tssh! I'm not going to go off and leave you, Will." She starts the car, then does a double-take at you. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn't seem to be looking at you. "I wonder what they're talking about," she mutters. "Who? Brianna and ... Melanie?" "Yes. Except you better get used to that begin your name. God, this is so weird. And then them two going off together. They hate each other." She bites her lip. * * * * * Brianna lives west of the river, on a big piece of land in a rambling ranch-style house that looks like it's been added on to a couple of times over the years. She introduces you briefly to her parents, explaining that you're a school friend and are working on a big project, so big that you'll be up a lot of the night and so you'll be spending the night with her because it will just be easier that way. When her mother looks a little alarmed, Brianna explains that it's really your project, that it's due tomorrow, and that you procrastinated to the last minute so she's helping bail you out. "Okay, I think that'll keep Brianna's folks off our butts for tonight," she sighs when you're alone in her bedroom. It's a shabby little room at the top of a pull-down ladder at the end of a hallway, with a very low ceiling and a hardwood floor. Brianna explains the odd placement, and it's being so cramped, by telling you it's a repurposed part of the attic. Is there anything wrong with the rooms down below? you ask. No, she says. But it was more convenient for everyone this way. Brianna gets her privacy, and her mom gets a sewing room and her dad gets a study. "They all kind of leave each other alone," she concludes. Then she snorts: "We! Like I'm really this girl and that's my family." "What's it like for you?" you ask. "I mean, I get being in a weird place." You squirm inside your clothes. "But— You know everything she knows? You remember the things she's done?" "Yeah." "Isn't that confusing?" Brianna thinks a moment. "A little, yeah. It's kind of like banging my head into a rafter or something, when I remember something, all of a sudden. But then I just ... know it. Like remembering where her room is, how to get to it." She slaps the side of her head. "Now I just know it." She thinks a moment, then says, "Do you mind if I change?" "Go ahead." She starts to unbutton her blouse, then moves inside a closet, pulling the door just shut after her. You plop onto the bed and try not to listen to the sound of jeans coming off and hangers rattling. When she emerges, she's in a floppy t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. "That's better," she sighs. "Those clothes she was wearing— Ych!" "They looked nice on her." "You would think that. God, she's such a skank. Melanie would love to hear me say that. Jesus. I wonder what she's saying about me!" "Don't think about it. I'm trying not to think about ... her, and what she's—" "It's probably working the other way too." She squints at you. "How are you feeling?" You shrug. With all the distractions, you had almost stopped paying attention to this new body. But now you are conscious again of the heft and weight of your breasts, and the friction of the fabric upon them. Also, when you shift your legs, you can't help noticing how free and clear of ... obstructions ... they are. "Lemme undo your hair," Brianna says as she drops onto the bed with you. You turn your head so she can start pulling the braid apart. "You don't know Melanie and Brianna, do you?" you ask. "I've seen Melanie around, but I never talked to her. We've got some friends in common, I think. You?" "No." Then you ask, "What were you saying, about Melanie and Brianna hating each other?" "They do. On account of this guy. Eric Murphy. You know him? Don't shake your head, you can say yes or no. Well, he was going around with Melanie all summer, but they broke up a couple of weeks ago. He, um— He started cheating on her, I guess. Or more like he was getting restless. Jesus." "And he started going out with Brianna?" "Well, he's one of the girls that he cheated on Melanie with." A pause. "She came on to him. Hard. That's probably why Melanie has it in so much for her. She's—" Another silence. Then, in a rush: "She went after Eric and Brianna like a psycho!" "Really? How?" "Screaming at them. Tantrums. She did go after Brianna at a party a week or so back, kicking and punching at her. They had to haul her off. That's why I don't get it, with Melanie being all nice and stuff to ... Brianna, back at the school and at the park." "Well, this is kind of a bigger deal than fighting over a guy." "I guess so." She fluffs out your hair, then bounces off the bed to get a brush from a small vanity table in the corner. "I mean, at least they know each other," she continues as she settles back down, to gently brush out your hair. "Who else is she going to talk to?" * * * * * You get plates from downstairs when supper is ready, and eat up in Brianna's room, and you spread out a lot of papers and books to make it look like there's a major project under way. And in a sense there is. You get texts from your old phone, with a password for your new one, and you and Jenny go through Melanie's phone and Brianna's, looking at pictures so that you'll know who you're supposed to know, and what their names are, and what they are like. It's a lot of names, for Melanie swims with a big crowd. There's another Brianna—Brianna Kirschke—and Susie Lekuawehe and Philippa Hosford and Genesis Lee and Hermione Gilbert and Daniel Lujan and ... and Aaron Flood and ... and Duane Clements and ... and ... and ... and ... At least Jenny can tell you about them, and you copy down notes on them (and discover that you can't imitate Melanie's handwriting, even with a sample of her homework in front of you) and Jenny quizzes you like you're a secret agent going under cover. So: "Emma Witkin," you say when Jenny shows you a girl on her cell phone. "Plays flute in the band, I have her ... for Parenting class?" "What period?" "Third. Ricardo something or other," you answer when she flashes you a picture of a guy. "I got him in that class too, he sometimes hits on me, I tell him to go fuck himself. Brianna Kirschke, she's like my best friend, but I only have her in band practice." "What's her parents do?" "One of them owns a restaurant, the other a bakery, and they're not divorced even though they're separated and can't stand each other." "What does Brianna play?" "The flute. No! The ... clarinet?" "Who else plays the clarinet?" "I don't remember," you sigh. "Philippa?" "And who's this guy?" Your eyes narrow. It's a face that looks familiar, though you've never seen it. He's a skinny kid in sloppy clothes, with a white cap jammed down low over stiff blonde hair. His grin is wide and cheesy. "Eric Murphy," you sigh. "My ex-boyfriend. And I'm going to kick his ass tomorrow when I see him because he didn't show up after school like I asked him to." He did send you a text though, loaded with emojis: Hey babe sorry I forget cu af skul lol did frisbee w guy fgot tell u miss me mabee we try af skul tmrw ttm. You ignored it the way you ignored most of the texts you got. It's close to midnight, and you're mentally and physically exhausted, before you break off to take a fast shower. You and Jenny sleep together in the bed. It's awkward, because you are sure that Jenny not only finds it weird being in another body, but she is probably hyper-conscious that you, a boy, are in bed with her, but inside the body of a girl. You try not to touch her, or to think about the breasts you've got, or of the place lower down. Fortunately, you're so tired that you quickly drop off to sleep. * * * * * The next morning, on your way to school, Brianna stops at a drugstore to buy you an Ace bandage, which you wrap around your right hand. That's her idea for getting you out of playing the glockenspiel in band practice. Or, at least, for not being good at it. "Shit," Brianna says when she's halfway through winding the bandage around your wrist. "Will, are you left-handed or right-handed?" "Right." "Damn it. Melanie is left-handed, I'm pretty sure." You feel yourself pale. Maybe you'd better just skip school altogether. Next: "Class and Cluelessness" |
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