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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Spoofing the Interrogation"  by rugal "Look, I'd love to help; really," you tell Caleb. "But?" His eyes narrow. Normally in a situation like this you'd wilt, but Alex's mind helps to stiffen your spine. "I gotta go grab my truck." "Your truck," he echoes. "Yeah. Didn't you notice it's not here? I didn't want anyone to connect me to the theater, so I stashed it at the mall and caught a bus here. I should move it here, so I'll have it." Caleb stares at you for a good long time. Then he shakes his head. "I've really been overestimating your intelligence," he says. "Of all the stupid things I've ever heard... Why did you even think you needed to do that?" "Oh, 'cause of this guy Joe I ran into after school. He was just, like, waiting for me in the parking lot. He was one of the Eastman basketball players out at the community center the other day, you know, um, when I got caught by them?" You refuse to blush at the memory of that cock up. "And I guess he was trying to play detective or something 'cause he was asking me a lot of questions about why I was out there. Ya know, when you were playing me the first time?" Caleb is silent for a moment. "What did you tell him?" he asks slowly. "I said I was never there. He said Robert's friends insisted that they saw me but I told him I never left the house. I mean, you were with my family so it's not even a total lie." Caleb grunts. "Fine. But who cares if some Eastman meathead think's he's Sherlock Holmes? This place is clear on the other side of town from where we were, so stop being a paranoid idiot. Let's just get your truck and pretend this whole stupid thing never happened." * * * * * Caleb drives you back up to the mall and drops you off at your truck. Sucker, you think as his bumper disappears into the street. The first thing you do is to head to a salon. You don't have a lot of money, but giving "Sarah" a different hairstyle should be enough to stop you from being mistaken for her. You should get a dye job too, but it would be faster and cheaper to do that yourself. Of course, you don't know when or where you could do that. It's not like you can do it at your own house, or at the theater. But you'll worry about it later. You head downtown to Jazz Hands, a salon that Alex herself likes to go to, and after talking it over with Alex's own regular stylist, you end up deciding on something shorter, though still below the ears, and parted though with a bit of stylish messiness to it. The conversation as she works is light and easy, though you have to restrain yourself from talking with her about the people and things that Alex herself talks about when she gets her hair done. Both of you are a little surprised at the end to find there is so little hair to sweep up. Just down the street is another secondhand shop, Second Pickins, which is where you should have gone rather than to Thrifty Nifties. Its wares are a lot trendier and more agreeable to Alex's tastes, and now that you're walking around in public you're starting to hate the clothes that you picked out this afternoon. But as you finger a pair of distressed jeans that you like, you realize that it's probably a wasted trip. Even that simple haircut used up a good chunk of your money. You're just about resigning yourself to leaving when someone catches your attention: Alex herself and her two closest friends, Rae Caldwell and Izzy Santos. They spot you too. "The fuck kinda clothes are those?" Alex says with a laugh as she walks over to you. "Guessing you hate 'em given how you look like you're pining for these jeans and all." "Dunno, what's it to you?" you retort, pitting your copy of Alex's mind against the original. "Do we even know each other?" "Of course you don't," Rae, a willowy girl, answers. "Our girl here just really likes to insist herself on... everyone." "Yeah," says Izzy, a girl who's seemingly made asymmetry and randomness into a fashion all its own, with a giggle, "this happens like once a week." "Ignore 'em," Alex waves them off before turning back to you with a smile. "Actually you caught my eye 'cause you look familiar. You go to Eastman?" "Not really. Actually," you continue as you warm to the challenge of making up a story on the fly, "I just got into town." "Cool, cool. So where ya from?" "Well ya know... out of state. Truth be told"--the ground seems to drop from beneath your feet as your story takes wing--"I kinda ran away. Super strict parents, you know? The kind that wanna control everything you do? Couldn't hang out with who I wanted or date who I wanted, super early curfews, I just couldn't take it. So I grabbed some money from my mom's purse and bolted. Bussed halfway across the country until I hit my last ten bucks here." The three girls -- Alex, Rae and Izzy -- all look at each other. Izzy starts giggling again, but Rae's face falls. "Alex, darling," she says, "you can't just adopt every stray puppy that you come across." "But her story, Rae!" Alex turns back to you. "It's so inspiring," she sniffles. "A girl with nothing but a dream of freedom setting off on her own with no destination in mind. It's just... so artsy!" She grins. "You, my girl, are going to be a wonderful project for the Guru..." "Oh god," Rae mutters, causing Alex to stop and glance back at her. "For the Guru," Alex repeats with emphasis before turning back to you, "to work on. If you want it of course." She grabs the leg of the jeans you were looking at. "Yeah, something like this? It'd look good on you. You're gonna need to get out of that," she points to the pants you're wearing, "eventually. Tell you what, Miss Doolittle, I'm a caring person--" "You are?" Izzy chimes in. "So anything you want in here? It's yours. Uh..." "Elizabeth," you say before quickly adding, "but everyone calls me Lizzie." Alex's own middle name is Elisabeth, so she laughs. "Well, I'm gonna stick with Doolittle for now. Dee-Ell for short, maybe? Anyway, I don't wanna mix up 'Izzy' and 'Lizzie.' But yeah, anything? It's yours. But I want to see you up here tomorrow evening, because you're gonna be my greatest piece yet." * * * * * True to her word Alex, along with Rae and Izzy, help you pick out some stuff and Alex pays for the whole thing. You change out of the rags you bought earlier, and when they see them all three girls approve of your fashion choices: the jeans, a t-shirt from a band you've never heard of, some old snugly fitted Converse sneakers, and a weathered flannel shirt to tie together a grungy sort of look; something Rae claimed to be fashionably retro. You thank them and Alex waves it off only insisting again that she wants to meet you here tomorrow to "discuss things". Rae insists you don't actually have to but given that, in a way, this is twice that Alex has spotted you money you feel that you owe her. So you agree and then watch the three head off. "Sarah?" a voice booms from the across the small parking lot as you come out of the thrift store. A boy, tall and fit, comes jogging up to you. "The hell's up with you?" Alex's mind immediately recognizes him as Brett Dutoit, one of the Eastman basketball players at the community center on Sunday. So much for being saved by my haircut, you cuss to yourself. At the same time, you can't tear yourself away from him. Brett is dark-haired and well-built, and Alex Day, you realize to your chagrin, has a crush on him. "Look," you sigh at him, "I don't know who this Sarah girl is but I'm not her. My name's Elizabeth. Elizabeth Benjamin." That's the last name of someone Alex knew at St. Francis Xavier School. "Where do you go to school?" he asks. "I don't. I just moved to town." You give him the same story you gave Alex, about being a runaway. "Damn," Brett mutters as he stares at you. "You're the second girl I've seen who looks just like Sarah." "Yeah, well, I remember you too," you tell him. "You and bunch of guys were playing basketball at this old school. You guys thought I was 'Sarah' there too." Hopefully, this "admission" will clear up that mystery about the girl they saw that day. "Whoa!" Brett's eyes widen. Then his brow furrows. "But that girl told Shawn her name was Bonny!" "So I made up a name." "How old are you?" Brett asks. "Seventeen. I look young for my age," you add when he blinks in surprise. "And stop freaking out 'cause I look like this girl you know. Sometimes people just look similar. You ever see someone and you think they're someone famous but then you realize they're not? That they just look like 'em?" Brett nods. "Well, look, sorry for hassling you then." He flashes you a small smile, and your heart pounds in your chest. "Hey," he continues, "I was going to join my buddy and his girl and probably some others for a little early-week mini-golf," he says. "If you wanna come, you know, uh ..." He trails off and turns a little red. "We can cover for you. We were gonna eat there." He lets the obvious invitation hang in the air which causes that pounding to get even harder and Alex's brain to practically explode. Brett's hair is shaggy and he has hazel eyes that are somehow both soft and piercing. His family owns a scrapyard so Alex has talked to him before as has there to pick up material whenever she's working on something metal. For a jock he's not bad at all; a pretty cool guy. You need to get back to the theater but Alex's brain is practically screaming at you to accept the invitation. Next: "It's a Date!" |
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