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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Matryoshka Syndrome"  You wince as you realize that you've walked into a trap of your own making. By asking if Sawyer is going to help out with your "project," you've given him an excuse to pick an alias close to your own. You want to tell him Never mind, but you take the coward's way out and mutter, "Sure, love to have your help." "Then I guess you and Sawyer need to talk over the possibilities," Philip says; you shoot him a small, spiteful glance. "You don't have to talk about it tonight, of course," he adds. "You should take your time." Sawyer gives you a sidelong look. There's hunger in his eye. "I think that's all," Philip says. "Thanks for coming out." "What?" you blurt out. "Is that all?" "Yeah," Jessica echoes. "Don't we have to talk about—?" "About what?" Philip interrupts her. He stares very evenly at her. "Nothing, I guess," she mumbles. So the meeting has a very rushed and anti-climactic conclusion, and you have the nasty impression that Philip set up the whole thing just so he could railroad an unlucky someone into being Sawyer's partner. You hop to your feet and hurry out the door. "Hey you!" Sawyer calls after. You grit your teeth and hurry faster. "Kristy! Will!" Fuck. He used your name—both of them!—and you fetch up in the middle of the hallway to wait for him. He bursts out of the storage bay and hurries up to you. He's quite tall, you discover. Taller than you were, probably. Taller than Sean or Taylor or Philip, certainly. "Yeah, so, you're not really gonna take forever to pick out a girl for me, are you?" He smirks down at you with a dirty gleam in his eyes. "Does it have to be a girl?" "Well, I'd like it. Don't you like it?" That smirk deepens. "You and those other guys?" "Fine, I'll pick out a girl for you." "Cool. And you're not gonna take too long, are you?" "I don't want to rush you into anything. You know, in case you don't like her." That gleam in his eye warms, and you can't decide if you dislike him more when he's being friendly or when he's being a perv. "That's cool," he says. "Only I'm the kind of guy who can't wait to unwrap his presents at Christmas." "Mm. But don't you want to catch up with your family? You've been out of it for a couple of months." His bony shoulders jerk in a kind of shrug. "Well, from where I was laying, it's like it wasn't any time at all. You know? It's everyone else who was missing me." His chest puffs out, like he's proud of being so loved. "Anyway, the way Sean and Taylor explained it—" He glances back at the storage bay. "They're gonna make something that looks just like me, so no one'll miss me, and I can go back and forth when I feel like going home." "Right. Well, I'll think about some names for you. Um, how about we talk Monday?" "Can't it be tomorrow?" "You heard what Philip said. You shouldn't be in a rush. But I won't keep you waiting." You give him a tight smile, and turn away. This time he lets you go without stopping you. * * * * * You get a couple of texts before you're even back at your house. One is from Philip, and it's pretty long. The interesting part is that he tells you not to tell Sawyer that everyone else is getting two betas. Philip doesn't explain why he's keeping that a secret from Sawyer, but you're in no mood to help the newest member of the gang out, so you promise Fairfax you'll keep your mouth shut about it. The other important text is from Sean, asking if he can talk with you directly by phone. "Sorry about Sawyer," is the first thing he says on picking up. "I'll be fine with him as long as he gets a different personality after we switch him with someone." "Well, Taylor and I have an idea that could help you out there." Something about his tone suggests that Taylor is with him. "There's a guy out at Eastman you should suggest to him." You fall back onto your bed. A guy? Eastman? "His name is Karter. Adam Karter, and it'd be a huge favor to us if you got Sawyer to be him." "How come?" There's a long pause. "Well, could you think about it?" he says. "I could think about lots of things," you retort, "like how come you're asking this favor without telling me what it's for." "Alright, that's fair. Um, are you sure you can't come out and meet us?" "I thought we were meeting tomorrow. To do the switch off with you and—" Even now, you have a hard time referring to yourself in the third person. "Will." "Right." His voice turns muffled as he talks to someone else. "Tomorrow afternoon? Up at Eastman? Say ... Two o'clock, in the student parking lot?" You tell him you'll see him there. Sean has woven a sense of mystery around his request, and it leaves you feeling very uneasy. But it's driven from your mind by the flood of texts that follows next. It starts with your replying to a text from Barbara Powell: omg catfight at cathrines can u com out? That was thirty minutes ago, and you don't want to deal with a "catfight," but you what happened. Half a dozen people then start peppering you with their versions of it. When you put it all together, you gather that Dominique and Hannah ran into each other at Catherine Muskov's; words were exchanged and Dominique fled, which led to Stephanie (who was also there) laying into Hannah, culminating in punches thrown, hair grabbed, and noses bloodied before Catherine threw them both out. The final text on the matter comes from Catherine herself: u get stph to appoogize to me n hanna both or or i unlesh the cracken on her. Your lips can't help twitching a little as you text back that you'll talk to your friend. * * * * * So it looks like it will be a busy Saturday for you. Fortunately, a deep sleep in the meantime has broken that weird mood that afflicted you Friday. You once more feel yourself at home in Kristy's body and life, and after a hot, invigorating shower you take a great deal of time picking out an ensemble for the drizzly day outside. You settle on a black sports top that you cover with an gray hoodie that you leave unzipped; sweat pants rolled up to just below the knee; and a dirty pair of sneakers. You pick it out with the intention of meeting up with Stephanie for a jog, during which you can get her side of whatever happened last night before passing on Catherine's warning. But Stephanie curtly dismisses your texts with a busy at wrk and won't even agree to talk later. So after texting some with Sean, you drive out at noon to meet Sean at Salopek Aerospace, where he works after school and on weekends. It's also where your real dad works, a fact that you confirm when Sean asks you about him in the parking lot. "I thought maybe he did," he says as he leads you over to his truck. "Harris Prescott, right?" You nod. "Does he know anything about what's going on with all these impersonations?" "Jesus! I hope not!" "He's not into the occult?" "My dad?" You almost fall over. "He's the most ... scientific, engineering type guy ever! When he was growing up he wanted to work on the space shuttle, stuff like that. My dad and magic?" Just the words leave you reeling. "Why are you asking?" He doesn't answer until you're in his truck and buckled up. "We have to pick up my brother," he says. "At Scott's." Your heart goes sideways at his words; it's not Sean, it's really Taylor you're talking to. "And I'm asking about your dad because— Well ..." You hate the way he hesitates. "Okay, so you know those masks that me and Scott and Sawyer found?" he says. "We found them here, at Salopek, in a box that was gonna go back to the sender. The person the box was addressed to here didn't want it. But we got into it before it could be returned." "Yeah, you told me all that." It feels like a hole is opening up in your chest. "Right. Well, that box with the stuff in it was addressed to your dad." The statement sounds very blank, almost dull, after the build up, for you were actually expecting it after Taylor's hints and hesitations. But that only means it's not a shock. It still leaves you feeling like you want to throw up. "Did you hear me?" Taylor says. "Yeah, I heard you. But you said he didn't want the stuff. That there'd been a mistake. It wasn't for him!" "I guess not. But why would someone send him stuff like that if he didn't want it? If he wasn't even interested in that kind of thing?" "Fuck if I know!" "Well, that's something Sean and I want to figure out. Um. Do you mind?" You blush and cross your arms. "Mind? Why would I mind? I don't give a— I mean, I hope you do figure it out. I'm sure it was just a mix up." You shrug, and your shoulders stay up somewhere near your ears. "It was supposed to go to someone else," you blurt out in a rush, "and they accidentally put my dad's name on the box instead. I'm sure that's all. But how are you going to figure it all out?" "From the return address. We're gonna go out and investigate the person who sent it. That's why we want to talk to you about a mask for Sawyer." "Huh?" "We'd have to go out of town," he explains. "I can take off anytime 'cos I'm not in school anymore." He hunches. "I'm not even supposed to be alive. But the mask we want would actually be for Sean. The guy we want to copy is practically a drop out, so no one would notice him skipping school for a week or so." * To continue: "By Mystery Possessed" |
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