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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Impressions and Auditions"  You text Grant, who you've not chatted with yet. txt evie for me, ask who she had lunch w tday. y u no ask her? he texts back. fighting? :D no, just cheking on a thing, dont want her know im cheking. pls? The reply comes a couple of minutes later. k. tell me y, tho? ;) tell u after. dont tell her im asking. just askd, yr ok, tell me y. He keeps bugging you, and you keep putting him off between math problems, until thirty minutes later he gives you evie's answer: lunch w smantha, zoe, others. so y???? not important, its ok, you instantly text back. FUUUUUUU!!!!! You push the phone away as relief floods over you. You took lunch alone today -- which is a rare thing for Evie -- so you could check on Dane's car. The case was gone from the back seat, so unless someone stole it, Chen's got his stash again and the real Evie should be reasonably safe. After that you wandered around the back of the school eating as you walked. But the person answering Evie's texts told Grant that she ate lunch with Samantha Fletcher and Zoe Koch, as Evie usually does. That must mean that Bhodi is only remembering what Evie does on most days, not what she did today, and that means the mask didn't record anything that you did while in the mask. That's going to make it a lot harder for him to figure out what's going on. Sure, it will be awkward talking to "Evie," but you're pretty sure you'll be able to bluff your way through. You finish your homework, then break out some comic books and relax by studying and copying the designs and anatomy into one of the many, many sketchbooks that Bhodi owns. * * * * * Since Bhodi doesn't have a car, he carpools with Joe Dickerson and Grant Lowery, paying gas money from his allowance. Grant's cherry-colored head bobs in the back seat as Joe drives up, and he grabs your neck from behind as you get into the front. "Yo, what was all that stuff about Evie last night?" he demands. You twist and punch at him to get free. "Something going on with Evie?" Joe asks as he cautiously pulls into the street. (He's cautious about everything. It's like he's afraid of breaking that ginormous bobble-head of his.) "I dunno what you're talking about." You reach behind, grab Grant, slam him face first into the head rest. "Oof. So why were you all asking who she had lunch with yesterday?" "'Cos I didn't see her in the cafeteria, wondered what happened to her." "She said she had lunch with Zoe and Samantha. And why couldn't you ask her yourself?" Then Grant hoots. "Oh, you didn't want her to know you're interested in her, did you?" "No!" You feel the familiar blush rushing up your cheeks, and the monster stirs inside your jeans. (You filled a sock last night and filled it again this morning, and the thing is still restless.) "It's 'cos I didn't want her thinking I was worried about her!" "That's what I said!" You half turn in the seat. "I wasn't worried about her, okay?" you shout. Grant grins idiotically back, and you know the blush is visible all over your face. "And I didn't want her thinking I was. That's why I said don't mention my name! You didn't, did you?" "Maybe!" You grab at him, and the car wobbles as he dives aside. But your arms are long enough that you snag and claw at his shirt. "Ow! Quit it!" "Serves you right!" You turn back around. "So if you're not worried about her," Joe asks, "why were you asking about her?" Christ, you find yourself thinking. Dickerson sure has a big forehead. Big and domey, like a space alien's. And he's got little raisin eyes under it. You shrug. "I was just curious." "Curious in your shorts," Grant chortles. Now you do turn around to grab him with both hands, and he squeals and kicks and laughs hysterically. You slap him hard once, then turn around again. "Pft. If you seriously wanna give me crap, give me crap about Paulina." "Paulina?" Grant sits up with a hard gasp. "What up with you and Paulina?" "Nothing yet," you brag. "But -- " Then you flinch, for Joe -- who has stopped at a light -- has turned his whole body to look at you. He lifts a querying eyebrow over a twinkling eye, and his lips pucker in a tiny smile. "What?" you demand. "What are you going to do?" Grant asks. "I'm gonna ask her out." "Out to do what?" "What do you think to do what? To go on a date! The start of a series, if it works out." You lean back so the monster has room to stretch in your lap. The car seems to rock with an inaudible laughter. Joe turns around to grin at Grant, who grins back. "What's wrong with that?" you demand. "Is that so -- ?" Bhodi doesn't cuss. "So stupid?" "Did you take drugs or something this morning?" Grant howls. "Are you high on cold medicine?" A horrible feeling overwhelms you. Have you misunderstood something? Have those girls actually been laughing at Bhodi all this time? Does everyone think he's a joke? Was Caleb right to be so skeptical that Bhodi Weaver has a lot of feminine admirers? Your face feels like it's on fire as you gape at your two friends. Or, "friends," as you're starting to think is the case. "Is there something funny here I don't know about?" you demand. Joe and Grant cackle and chortle and snort. "No, nothing funny at all," says Joe, and wipes his eye with the back of his hand. "Good luck. I mean that seriously. It's awesome." But you sink into the seat and sulk the rest of the way to school. * * * * * Bhodi's parents would really like to see him in the AP classes, but nine years of schooling have left them with no real illusions about his academic abilities. First period is the best of the day -- soccer practice. Bhodi has been playing soccer for many years, and however badly puberty has been rocking him -- he's in the middle of a growth spurt, and his arms and legs are still shooting outward -- he hasn't lost it. He's a forward on the Westside boys' JV squad, and can be aggressive without losing control of the ball. There are only two things that he dislikes about the team -- and they are your dislikes after about fifteen minutes, for the sprints and warm ups have you feeling no separation between yourself and the mind and body of Bhodi Weaver. The first is Andrew Webb. Coach Gellman is in charge, but you wouldn't know it from the way Andrew tries to run things. He points out when people do things wrong, gives advice, acts like his praise is actually worth something. He makes no secret of his ambition -- to be captain of the varsity squad when he's a senior. And more than one of your teammates has remarked that he probably sees you as a rival. Bhodi long ago noticed that Andrew undercuts him every chance he gets, and it's just getting worse. The other thing you dislike is the lack of any real camaraderie on the team. Back in Missouri, everyone liked to hang out with each other outside of practice. These guys are mostly loners and hustlers, and they seem to get on each other's nerves. Right now, for instance, you are watching Austin Carpenter and Dylan Riley getting in each other faces over something, bringing the scrimmage to a halt. Andrew -- pink and mottled from running, sprints over to see what the trouble is even before Coach Gellman can get involved. Soon it's a three-way yelling match, ending with Austin throwing up his hands and walking away. Andrew yells at him; Austin gives him the finger. Coach Gellman blows his whistle at the offenders, pulls Austin aside, puts him on the sidelines. Play resumes. But a few minutes later, the state of play having drawn the ball far off and you close to where Austin is squatting, you ask him what the deal was. You like Austin, and don't believe for an instant that it was his fault, whatever it was. "Dumbass Dylan," he snorts, and shakes his shaggy brown hair. "Did you see where he lost his cap when he headed the ball?" "He wasn't supposed to be wearing it." "That's what I told him, and he told me to fuck off." "Why didn't Coach see it, take it off him?" "'Cos Coach is on the other side of the field and he's watching Bobby fuck up." "What did Andrew say when he ran up? You guys were all fighting." "He told me to mind my own business, that I'm not running the team." "Oh, jeez. He's one to talk," you snort. "Tell me about it. And then he turns around and tells Dylan to put the cap in his pocket, so Dylan starts yelling, and then Coach comes over -- " "So why'd he throw you over here?" "'Cos I flipped off Andrew. A real nice one, too." He grins sourly, and shows you the bird. "And I didn't tell him what it was about," he says under his breath. "I don't narc." You just have time to tell him that you think he did okay before the ball comes sailing back in your section, and you hustle over toward it. * * * * * Second period: American Government. Another of Bhodi's favorite classes, but largely this time on account of the girls who are in it. Bhodi was shy about showering after soccer practice for the first few days of the semester. But after getting a look at Danielle Decker, Alexandria Hull, Jazmin Colon, and Kaitlyn Page, he doesn't mind getting naked with soap, water, deodorant, and fresh clothes -- folded and packed every day in his gym bag -- before running to Mr. Hartford's classroom. * To continue: "The Girls of Second Period" |
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