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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "A Friendly Offer from a Surprising Place"  You glower at the floor and pull your temper -- Gordon's temper too -- back. "It's not just for us to decide," you tell Caleb. "Gordon gets a vote too." "Majority decides," says Caleb truculently. "Then we need Gordon to break the tie, 'cos I think we should keep experimenting." Now it's Caleb's turn to glare at the floor. He rubs his arm. Then he says "Psht." "We don't need to talk to Gordon," he says, looking up but not at you. "'Cos I'll go along with you." "Are we okay?" you ask, as he doesn't sound happy. "You and me?" "Sure." He sounds genuinely puzzled. "Why wouldn't we be?" "I don't want you thinking that I'm picking Gordon over you or anything." "I don't think that." But he looks you up and down, and his lips twitch slightly. "Except, look at you." "Well, you should try it out some time. Get to know Gordon a little better." "I did try it out, remember? I was the first one in that thing." "But without the memories." "And Gordon and me are fine. I'm not jealous, Will." "Good. Because I really want to move in with you." You clap him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. "Sorry." You talk over the logistics of the move into his house -- how you'll "discover" Caleb's ad, and when -- and then Caleb leaves for the night. After that you text Patterson. He hasn't got anything new to say, just a renewal of the offer to let you use the spare room at his place. You put him off with a promise, that if you can't find something that suits you inside of a week, you'll accept his offer. Then you put on some lights, pull out homework, and try to forget your troubles in the comforts of familiar schoolwork. * * * * * Gordon doesn't often sleep in the gym loft, but he stays there enough that you don't feel strange when you wake there again. It's relatively early when you pry your eyes open, and there's time enough for you to take a fast cold shower, a jog, and then a longer, warmer shower before it's time for pre-class basketball practice. You text Chelsea, asking her if she can bring you some breakfast, and she shows up halfway through practice with a bulging paper sack. It contains two homemade egg-and-ham muffin sandwiches, which you wolf down on your way to first period. The day that follows occurs in a bit of a haze, for you have much on your mind, and your friends talk it over with you. Your longest talk is with Chelsea at lunch, which you take alone with her up in the loft again. (A real lunch this time, not a fuck session.) She is still very firm that you cannot live in the loft, and insists that she is willing to help support you if you will only find a small apartment someplace to live. You insist that won't be necessary, but you do promise that if you can't find an affordable place to live within a week, you'll give up and let her help you out. Of course, you don't think it will come to that, thanks to your plan to move into Caleb's house. Patterson treats you to dinner that night, and as he'd promised, Steve's father has an application for you for the part-time work at his supermarket. He assures you the application is just a formality, and that by the end of the week at the latest you'll be hired. You play some ball with Patterson and Lynch -- who drives over to Steve's after his own dinner -- then do your homework in Steve's study with him before returning to the gym for the night. There you text with Gordon and Caleb for a bit before turning in. * * * * * That's the pattern for the rest of the week, until Friday, when all the threads come together for your -- that is, Gordon's -- new life. That morning Steve brings you word that you've been officially hired at the Eagle Foods store that Steve's dad manages; you'll have to go out on Saturday at ten in the morning for your first day. "Now we just have to get you moved in over the garage," Steve says. "I got a lead on a place I'm gonna check out first," you tell him. "Like I told you," you say when he raises an eyebrow, "getting a job through your dad is enough. I don't wanna depend too much on your family." The "lead," of course, is a room to rent at Caleb's place. Your friend has convinced the reluctant Mrs. Johansson to at least interview one of his schoolmates about renting the spare bedroom and taking meals with the family for a hundred dollars a week, and then set up a fake ad for you to show to Chelsea. She wants to go out to see it with you, but you firmly tell her that you want to see it on your own. "Anyway," you tell her, "it's not like you're going to be hanging out there, so it doesn't have to meet with your approval. We'll still have the loft." You dress up nice for the early evening meeting with Caleb's mom, who you know and like quite well. She's a soft-spoken woman, rather careworn from having to raise and support a son all by herself, but she's not unhappy. She is obviously surprised when she opens the door and finds that Caleb's "school friend" is a young giant. "How do you know Caleb?" she asks. "We've had classes together, done some school projects together," you tell her as you perch erectly in a chair in her living room with a ball cap on your knee. "To be honest," you say, glancing at Caleb himself, who is slumped but vibrating nervously in another chair, "I wouldn't say we're friends, exactly, just friendly. But I'm not looking to sponge off a friend, ma'am." You're not sure it was a good idea to introduce the idea of "sponging," which might not have otherwise occurred to Mrs. Johansson. But her lips compress when she asks her next question, which is why you need a place to stay. "It's on account of my father," you say, and search for some tactful phrases that won't be extremely untruthful. "He and my mother have separated -- unofficially -- and she's moved to be with her sister out of state. I can't go with her, but I can't stay with my dad on account of -- Well, the kind of things he does that made my mom leave him." You smile tightly. If she had doubts about you after hearing the word "sponging", you can tell those doubts have been replaced by sympathy. Caleb's own father disappeared a long time ago, and it wasn't the result of a fatality. You talk about your schedule and all the extracurricular activities that will keep you busy from early in the morning until late in the afternoon, and on weekends, so that you mostly only need a room to crash in. Your "rent" would also cover a share of evening meals, and you explain that you are quite used to fixing meals for yourself, so that once your work schedule is settled, you wouldn't mind helping out by taking on meal prep duties a couple of times a week. By the end of the interview you can tell you've scored a success, and with a sigh of surprise Mrs. Johansson agrees to let you move in for the agreed-upon sum. "This is awesome," your new roommate exclaims when you're outside afterward. "Really, I didn't think we'd swing it, but you really came through." "Gordon came through," you reply. "I know we're always giving him shit about being asshole, but he can be polite when he has to be. At any rate, his dad drilled the 'sirs' and 'ma'ams' into him good." "Just don't make me look bad, okay," he says. "Three times this week she's yelled at me 'cos of my room's a mess, and I haven't done anything about it yet." "Ooh! Now I know how to suck up to your mom. I can make you do what she says." You grab him in a headlock, and when you get bored of his struggles -- for he has no hope of getting away -- you hurl him onto the grass. "Jesus, maybe we should do something about your other bad habits. You should start running in the morning, do some weights with me." He's saved from having to reply by text: Will Prescott, asking if you're done at Caleb's and can meet with him. So you grab Caleb up by the neck again and haul him over to his car. * * * * * "I ran some numbers based on my paycheck," Will says, then stops to stare at you. "What's wrong?" "Nothing," you say. But you're lying. You're in his bedroom -- your old bedroom -- and it gives you a creepy feeling of deja vu to be back here. It is old to your eyes, but new to Gordon's; it is instantly your own again, but made strange by your absence. It is homey, but feels cramped. "Nothing," you repeat. "Go on." "Well, I did some estimating," Will says, and glances between you and Caleb. "It's gonna be two weeks before I get paid, and taxes and withholding are going to eat it to nothing. I know we talked about me paying for the new supplies, but we'll have a long wait if I do." So Caleb had warned you. And it leaves you with three possibilities. The first is to wait until money has been patiently saved up. The second is for Will to snoop around and try to steal some supplies from Salopek. The third is to try once again to copy someone into a mask, and to use an alias to steal some money. Next: "Moving In and Moving Forward" |
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