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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Maker's Marc"  You chew your lip as you study Hannah's suggestion. It's not really a surprise. Hannah loves going to the Warehouse, where she can get hammered on cheap liquor and make out with her boyfriend. It gets you horny just thinking about it. And temptation tugs hard at you. I should totally take Hannah there, you think. Just to mess with Marc and his friends. But you promised Laurent that you wouldn't fuck around, so you reluctantly but firmly put the temptation behind you. Besides, you think, if it's just me and Hannah, out somewhere lonely, she's more likely to— No! You flinch again. Be a gentleman! And yet that's going to be hard to do when Hannah herself isn't exactly ladylike. You're pounding down the stairs when it occurs to you that maybe it's not you who's thinking about fucking around with Marc by going to the Warehouse or taking Hannah out to the river. You'd be too terrified to fuck around with Marc. But you get the feeling that fucking around with a friend is just the kind of thing Marc himself would do. So has the magic copied only Marc's memories, or has it also copied his personality? You'll have to keep an eye on that. "Hey, where's everyone else?" you ask when you find only Laurent and Chris down in the living room. "Still in the back yard?" They only stare at you, open-mouthed, for a minute, before Laurent finds his voice. "No," he says, "they all took off already. Uh, Marc too. Figured it would be weird if, uh ..." He trails off as he stares at you. "Oh. Sure, makes sense." You rub your nose. "Oh, hey, I just got a text from Hannah, she wants to go the Warehouse tonight. Can you beat that?" You hold Laurent's eye a moment, then add, "But I figure I'll just take her out to, you know, Panera or someplace." "How about you take her up to one of those places at Fell's Lake?" Chris asks. His eyes glint with mischief. "Oh, fuck you! I'm not made of— Hey wait." You feel yourself pale. "I don't got any money! Or a driver's license! Did Marc—?" "He left his wallet with me." Laurent chucks a black wallet at you. "Cocksucker's a bird-brain but only mostly." "Sweet." You check the contents, and confirm it's stuffed with twenties. "Just can't go someplace too expensive." "How about Taco Famoso?" "I'm gonna fuck you up," you warn Chris. "Hey, what's the time?" You glance at the clock on the mantle. "Shit, the girls'll be back here soon. You guys better get going too." "We're gone," Laurent says. Yet he hesitates. "You gonna be able to do this?" he asks. You give him a lop-sided grin. He draws back a wary step as you swagger up, but you grab him by the back of the neck and mime ramming a fist into his stomach. Then you wheel and mime a roundhouse kick at Ratliff. He jumps back and tumbles over the sofa. "Jesus," you chortle. "It's been, what, five years since I took tae kwon do, and I still almost took your head off! And that was Marc who took it, not me!" Laurent grunts. "Well, just as long as you don't lose control with Hannah. Remember what I said." He shakes his finger at you. Instinct takes over, and you grab him by the wrist and bend his finger back. He gasps and wrenches himself free. "Fuck!" he exclaims, and stares at you. He glances at Chris, who returns him a wide-eyed stare of his own. "Okay, we'll get out of here," Laurent says. "You look like you know what you're doing." "You guys have fun," you tell them as you lead them to the door. "Like, too much of it, you know?" You wave at them as, muttering to each other, Laurent and Chris depart. They cast a couple of pale glances back at you. Back in the house you puff and flex and ball a fist into the palm of your hand. Fuck, how to keep busy until it's time to go pick up Hannah? You kill a minute texting her that you'll pick her up around seven, but that leaves you an hour to go. So you wander around the house, reacquainting yourself with it. It's a big house, and it would have to be, for it has to hold two adults and three rambunctious teenage kids. Marc is one of a set of triplets, and his two sisters, Eva and Jessica, are cheerleaders. They are all blonde, athletic, outgoing, and smart. (Jokes about Marc being a "bird brain" are entirely a function of his fondness for weed, and the kind of forgetfulness that would afflict anyone who has dozens of friends and enthusiasms to keep track of.) Luckily, the Garners make enough money to keep everyone equipped for fun and comfort. Downstairs, besides the kitchen and dining room, there's a large living room, a den, a study for Marc's dad, and a weight room that got added onto the back of the house beside the deck. Upstairs is a master bedroom and bath, two bedrooms (one for Marc, the other shared by the girls) and a large full bath with a jacuzzi and separate shower, specially installed to minimize fights for bathroom space among the kids. You're standing on the back deck, drinking in the lowering sun as it pours sunlight across the yard, when the sliding glass door opens and Jessica comes out to join you. "Hey," she says. "You're dressed up." "I'm taking Hannah out tonight. Where do you think we should go?" A ripple of excitement runs through you, for the reply felt perfectly natural. "To eat? How about Le Metropolitain?" "Pssh. Only if she's paying her share. What about Red Lobster?" Jessica makes a face and joins you at the railing. "That's not much cheaper and it's full of old people. Are you guys getting serious?" she asks. "We have been serious!" "No! Really?" "Go suck a soursop." You blink in surprise. Another totally Marc-like reaction! Jessica shrugs. "I dunno. If you take her to, like, Panera, it's just a date. Take her to Outback, and it's, Will you go to prom with me?" She pauses. "Take her to Locarno, and you'd better have a ring in your pocket." "Osaka, maybe? Arriba?" "Ethnic's not bad. But not Mexican." She gives you a sidelong look. "Not if you're planning on doing anything afterward." "Oh God!" You can't help flinching at the image of Hannah Westrick, her tongue and tonsils coated in hot pepper sauce, suckling the tender tissues of your cock. Jessica sighs. "Well, whatever. I guess it's just me and Mom and Dad tonight. Maybe we'll play Scrabble," she grumbles. "Aren't you and Eva going out to Kelsey's?" Kelsey Blankenship's house is where the Garner kids (including Marc, before he started dating Hannah) have typically spent their Saturday nights. "Eva's got a date too, and I don't feel like dealing with Kelsey and Amanda. They've turned into a couple of real bitches lately." "Who's Eva got a date with?" "Jeremy. Richards." You keep a neutral face, even as you wince inwardly. Marc, you sense, hasn't got an opinion on Jeremy, who is a tall, loping center for the WHS basketball team. But you've got a grudge against him. He was one of your best friends back in middle school, until he hit a growth spurt and decided to be a basketball player and an asshole. He's now best friends with Seth Javits, who is your friend Keith's most devoted bully. "Are they serious?" you ask Jessica. "Eww. I don't know." "Why 'eww'?" "Because I don't like thinking about you thinking about them." She makes a face. "I don't want you being a dick to him." "What makes you think I'd be a dick to Richards?" you protest. "Because of who you hang out with." Her voice turns ragged with impatience. "What would you think if one of your horndog friends tried going out with Eva or me?" "I'd cut their brake lines and invite them to go drag-racing out on Plumtree Road." "Exactly. You'd be a dick to them." Your eyes narrow. "Are you telling me that Richards—?" "No, I'm not! I'm not telling you anything! Just because your friends are a lot of horndogs who can't keep their sausages to themselves, don't go assuming that every guy is—" "I know that!" you holler. "I just wanna know if Richards is like that!" "You didn't even know they were going out until I just told you!" "So they are going out together?" you exclaim. "Like, seriously-seriously?" "You know, talking to you is like talking to the world's dumbest parrot!" Jessica snaps. "All you can do is repeat back what you've heard, and nine times out of ten you can't even get that right!" She stomps back into the house. * * * * * "Mm, you taste good," Hannah murmurs after pulling her tongue out of your mouth. "I remembered to use mouthwash," you murmur back. You're stopped in traffic, and Hannah took advantage of the pause to pull your face around and try sucking your tonsils out. "Well, don't tell me all your secrets," she retorts. She squeezes your knee, and you get even more erect. "Except where we're going." But you can't. You haven't settled on anyplace. Instead, after picking up Hannah, you've been cruising down Twentieth Street, hoping for inspiration to strike. "I'll let you pick," you tell her. "Oh, no!" she laughs. "I want you to tell me how much you love me." "I haven't got that much money." "Oh, you are smooth," Hannah jeers. "But if you're not just lying, that settles it, right? Take me to the nicest place you can afford." That would be smart. But there's another reason you've not picked a place. You spotted Jeremy Richards a few blocks back, and you're tempted to see where he's taking Eva. Next: "Dining In and Dining Out" |
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