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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "A Confidence Artist"  So this is what it's like being Caleb, you think as you squeeze your way through the crowded hallways of Westside High School. Basically just like being me, only thirty percent dorkier. The morning funk hangs thick in air. It's cool but muggy outside: the last day of September threatens to bring thunderstorms. The class body, crowding inside the school, has swept the humidity in with them and—clinging to the skin and snagged in the grimy folds of shirts and pants—it now comes boiling back out bearing the stink of sweat, exhaustion, fear, and lust. You wrinkle your nose as you scoot between jostling bodies. You shuffle into Mr. Walberg's first period class and slump into a desk. For a moment you feel yourself in the wrong place, and look over at Will to orient yourself. Oh. Right. You bite on a small smile—I'm totally pulling this off!—and prop your dirty sneakers on the back of the desk in front of you. You twine your hands behind your head. Brooke Galloway gives you a sidelong stare. For a moment you're disconcerted. Then you give in to every suppressed instinct that you and Caleb share, and lean over to pat the empty desk where Will would usually sit. "Come sit with me!" you yell, and chuckle as she spins away. Kelsey glances over at you; you chuck your chin at her and grin. She turns away with a curve of the lip like she's trying not to vomit. This is fun, like those parties you crashed but without the risk of getting punched in the face. You feel Caleb's terror, but also a rush of joy, at saying and doing things he's always wanted to. "Hey Mansfield," you bray at the asshole who took your girlfriend away. "You get any this weekend?" You jerk your chin at Lisa. He stares, then flushes and looks at Lisa, who is frowning with mystification. Airhead, you think. And that startling thought—Lisa? An airhead? Where the fuck did that come from?—obliterates everything else, preoccupying you even after Mr. Walberg has called the class to order. * * * * * Second period brings that math class that Caleb shares with Sydney: AP Calculus with Mr. Kowalski. It holds no fears for you, though, as you swagger in. You've got Caleb's brain, and the fucker's getting a 91% average on his quizzes. Sydney comes sweeping in after you're seated. She's halfway across the room, and your eyes are starting to screw up with anger and disappointment at being ignored, when she stops and with a startled expression glances around the room. When she sees you, her mouth spreads in a radiant smile. You smile back, and let her take her seat before making your next move. Kowalski has a seating chart, and Caleb sits near the front while Sydney's desk is in the back, so Caleb doesn't get a chance to ogle her, even though he's certainly noticed her coming and going. (And why hasn't he ever mentioned her to you? You can't find a definite answer to that question; but the weight that settles on your heart as you think of her suggests that Caleb sees no point in paying attention to a girl who ought to be light-years out of his—and your—league.) You turn around now, though, and slowly crane your neck to take in the room. She sitting with Whitney someone and Reagan whosists, two girls who look almost (but not quite) as trim and fit as Sydney. They've got their homework out and are muttering over it with vexed expressions. Perfect. You unbend yourself from your desk and saunter over. Whitney looks up at you; a moment later, Sydney looks up too. Her frown clears up, but it's not replaced by a smile. "Hey," you tell her, and feel a glassy calm settling over you. (You're not Caleb, says one inner voice; why should you be scared of embarrassing yourself? She doesn't know you're Will, says another inner voice; why should you be scared of embarrassing yourself?) "We still on for tonight?" "Sure." She smiles faintly. "Cool. But I was thinking maybe we could meet someplace else. The Crystal Cave, maybe?" For a moment, as she freezes, you think you've overplayed your hand. It really is supposed to be a tutoring session, not a date, and maybe a coffee shop—though it's not dinner—is going to scare her into thinking you're coming onto her. But either Sydney is a fantastic actress, or she really does like the idea. For as your suggestion registers, her smile turns blinding. "That'd be fantastic!" she gushes. "I love the Crystal Cave!" "Awesome. 'Cos I was thinking— Uh. Well, I was thinking they got those big tables we can spread out in. Also, we wouldn't have to keep quiet." "Right." That glint in her eye turns mischievous. "You could yell at me when I mess up on a problem." "I wouldn't yell at you," you protest. Then you think, Holy Fuck, she's flirting with me! and you lunge in the opposite direction. "Well. Maybe a spanking." Aaa-Ooooogah! Every alarm in your head explodes. But her grin only turns a little madder. "Sounds like something for the fourth tutoring session." You hold up three fingers in a "Scout's Honor" gesture and, with every nerve in your body shattered into splinters, shamble back to your desk. Once you're seated, your heart erupts in a frantic tattoo, and your knees turn to water. You did it! You talked to an insanely sexy girl! You even flirted with her! And she flirted back! And you'll have her to yourself this evening, leaving Caleb up shit creek. * * * * * You take the rest of the school day more or less on auto-pilot. You have to eat lunch alone, for you know that Carson and James are still pissed at Caleb, and when you boldly suggest to Tilley that you eat with him, he cusses you out. But Caleb's classes are just as boring as yours; and though he has more AP classes than you, with his brain you find them easier than your own. Which gives you a nasty twinge when you think about it. You think about the classes you're taking in place of Caleb's AP Chemistry II and AP Physics II and regular Statistics (because even that fucker can't handle more than one AP math class at a time): Career Planning and Film as Literature and Astronomy. Contempt fills your soul as you contemplate them, and that contempt can't help coloring your opinion of the kids who take them, including yourself. Jesus! You always felt that Caleb was a little bit condescending toward you, but you always felt him as a true friend. Now you have a much more vivid impression of how little he thinks of your academic performance and native intelligence. Well, fuck him. After tonight, he won't have Sydney McGlynn asking him for any more tutoring sessions (with or without spanking); and as you slink out your last class a plan is already forming for diverting her from Caleb onto yourself. * * * * * Caleb's in a bad mood when you pick him up that afternoon at the university library. For a start, you're very late. You stopped by the elementary school basement—which was far out of your way—to check on the fire first, and found it still burning. Then you had to change out of his face and back into your clothes before you could drive out to get him. You mollify him a little bit by springing for an early supper together. But he turns irate again when you tell him that you're going to keep his phone. "What if I need it?" he demands. "Besides, it's got my calculator on it!" "Then take mine." You're driving him back to his place, but you take your eyes off the road long enough to press your cell onto him. "The fuck? Why can't—?" "Because you don't want to be interrupted, do you? What if your mom calls or texts you, wanting you to come home? Or someone else?" "So I'll turn my phone off!" "Then you can't use your calculator. "No," you bulldoze over him, "you take mine, and you ignore it if it rings. You can even tell her that there was a mix-up and you got my phone by mistake and that's how come you can ignore it." "The fuck? That doesn't make any sense!" "Trust me, you don't want any distractions." "How did you get to be such an expert all of a sudden?" "'Cos I had all day to think about it. Caleb, friend!" You squeeze his arm. "I'm doing this for you. I got a clearer perspective on things. Like right now. I'm gonna run in and get you some clothes for tonight while you hide in my truck. That way your mom can't catch you and fuck up your date." Caleb is almost purple by now, but you've so overwhelmed him with nonsense that he can't find any good way of arguing. He stews in the passenger side of your truck while you run into his house—while tossing a cheery greeting to his mom—and bustle into his bedroom. You get him some clothes— And out of the mess on his desk you twitch the card that Sydney had given him. You tuck it into your wallet, and with Caleb's best clothes under your arm you run back outside. * * * * * You've got thirty minutes to kill yet, but after getting Caleb some more food, you drop him off at the municipal library and take off yourself for The Crystal Cave. Your plan is to change back into his mask and clothes in the restroom there. But as you pull up to 100 Twentieth Street—the building that holds the Cave—you spot Sydney herself. She's striding into Arnholm's Used Books, which is right next door. * To follow Sydney into the book store and spy on her: "The Straight and Tarot" * To proceed straight to the coffee shop: "Coffee Date of Doom" |
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