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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "A Switch in Time"  He sounds like a real prize. That's what Jessica told Eva on Saturday night, after she finished grousing about her date with Jeremy Richards. And that's when Eva stomped downstairs to sleep, which is where you found her when you got home from your date with Hannah. The sisters poked and snapped and scratched at each other all during church the next day, and when Jessica tried to make nice that afternoon, she only made things worse by explaining why she wasn't that keen on Jeremy as a boyfriend for Eva. And it all goes back to when you ran into Eva and Jeremy at the steakhouse. Was that you in front of us in that shitty little car? you asked when you found them waiting at the hostess station. You'd meant it as a joke, mostly, because it's the sort of thing Marc would have said. Or, at least, it's the sort of thing he might have said. But maybe you blurted it out because you don't like Jeremy and saw a chance to jab at him from a blind. But it sounds like he took it seriously, and he complained about it at dinner to Eva. Your brother thinks he's so cool, she reported him saying in what you can easily imagine was a bitchy little whine. Shitty little car. Where does he get off saying shit like that? Marc was just teasing, Eva told him. But it put Jeremy in a moody funk for the rest of the meal, and there was no question of them going out to do anything together after that. So that put Eva in a mood, and when Jessica goaded her into explaining what was wrong, Eva bitched to her about Jeremy being a pill, and bitched about Marc being the one who had put him in that sour mood. Which—to bring it all full circle—is when Jessica sarcastically observed that Jeremy sounded like a real prize. You're almost proud of having screwed up so many people with one small, casual remark. "Look, I'm sorry you had a bad date the other night," you tell Eva now. "And I'm sorry I said anything about it. But can things please be okay between us again?" Eva concentrates on the traffic, and it's a minute or two before she answers. You fill the silence by fiddling with the satellite radio. "I thought we were okay," Eva finally says. "I mean, can we please be okay with each other," you retort, "instead of being a couple of passive-aggressive bitches." Eva mutters under her breath. "Look, I just gave you my honest reaction the other night," you continue. "And the way you were talking, I thought you were looking for someone to agree with you. You sure as fuck didn't sound like you were in the mood for anyone to stick up for Jeremy." "Pfuh," Eva says. "Maybe I was looking for a little, you know, sympathy?" "Okay, so that's my fault for not giving it to you." You slouch in your seat and put your feet up on the console. Jessica has great legs—smooth, firm, and tan—and you clasp your knees and run your palms up and down your calves in a way that gets you excited. "But don't go around expecting to get any sympathy from Marc." "Why, what's he got against Jeremy?" Eva demands. "Nothing that I know of. Like you said, he was just being a fat-headed jerk when he said whatever it was he said to Jeremy. So why don't you go tell him that?" "That he's a fat-headed jerk?" "Sure. And then tell him you love him anyway. Tell him, 'Marc, brother dear, sometimes you are the fattest-headed jerkiest jerk in the world, but I know you don't mean to be, and I love you anyway'." Eva almost swerves off the road. "Why should I do that?" she demands. "Because he's been moping around like a kicked dog these last few days. Haven't you noticed? We're both mad at him because he got you mad at Jeremy, and he doesn't have any idea what he did wrong. Not that you should explain it to him. God! Can you imagine how much he'd fuck things up if he tried fixing things between you and Jeremy? Jesus, I need a cigarette, I'm stressing myself out just thinking about it." Eva snickers. "But that's how come you don't tell him what he did wrong. Just tell him he's a jerk but you love him anyway." Eva sighs. "Okay." "Are you going to do it?" "Ye-es!" "Good. 'Cos that's all I really wanted to say. You and me can get square later, but Marc's so dumb you can settle things with him now by just smiling at him. So tell you what." You sit up, look around, and notice that you're not far from Chris Ratliff apartment complex, which isn't far from where Lin Pol lives. "You can drop me off at Lin's," you tell Eva. "She might still be home, and I'll get a ride out with her to meet the others, like I was supposed to." Eva says, "Can't I come along too?" Fuck! Fortunately, Jessica's instincts carry you smoothly through the momentary crisis. "Wouldn't you rather find Jeremy?" you reply. You hate to suggest it, but it seems the only way out of the ambush you've accidentally set for yourself. "Have you even talked to him since Saturday?" "Not really, no." Shit! The last thing you want is to restart a relationship that sounded like it had died. But it looks like you'll have to risk it. "Well, maybe you should," you tell her, and try to hide the misery you feel. "Maybe you'll get a new, better start with him." Eva ponders this as she turns toward Lin's. "I guess I could try that," she says. "But don't you think I'd look desperate or something?" "No," you say, hating the word. "Just act like, you know, you want to be friends with him, see what happens." It sounds all wrong, even to Jessica's instincts. "Just show him you're not pissed at him from the other night. He sounds like he's kind of sensitive." As sensitive as a wooden post, you silently add. You have Eva drop you off at a 7/11, saying you want to pick up a Diet Coke or something, and that you'll just walk the rest of the way to Lin's. After Eva's driven off, you jog down a side street toward Ratliff's. * * * * * "Oh my God!" Emily Sparks squeals as she dances with you. "It's like having a real, live cheerleader with us!" Of course it's not really Emily Sparks—whoever "Emily Sparks" is—who shimmies and shakes her booty at you. It's Chris, and it's a real change of form and face for him. Gone is the six-foot-two, two-hundred-and-thirty-pound monolith of blonde muscle. In his place is a pert, five-and-a-half-foot girl with a big nose, long brown hair, and a mild squint. Over a pair of baggy jeans drapes a black-and-white plaid shirt that falls halfway to her knees, and a black-and gray ski cap keeps slipping down over her brow and eyes. You don't ask who she is or where Ratliff got her. You just assume he cornered her at a party. What the appeal for him is you have no idea, unless it's that she is so exactly the opposite of who and what he actually is. It's not just you and Emily dancing to the old rockabilly song that Chris put on. Mackenzie Fuller—a. k. a., Noah Lepley—is here too, swaying and clapping and giggling as she watches you and Emily. Mackenzie is a lot fuller and riper than the other girl, maybe because she's wearing a bikini. Her boobs swell and blossom inside a couple of floral-patterned cups, and her thighs and calves are smooth and succulent to behold. Her tummy is a little flabby, but that just gives it flesh to dimple as she dances. "I am a cheerleader," you retort as you bump asses with Emily. "I'm more cheerleader than any of the rest of you assholes put together." "Brownie 'n Delacroix are bringing Kendra and Maria over," Mackenzie giggles. "Fuck," you sneer. "Why can't they go out and get someone new instead of the same old—" You catch yourself, but it's too late. The last thing you want is these guys running around copying every girl they can get their hands on. "What I mean is, what a fucking stereotype," you stammer as you catch Emily in your arms. She pants when she finds you holding and staring at her. Jessica is as straight as you are, but you have the urge to fondle and stroke this girl, and to kiss her. "What I mean is, way to think outside the box, Ratliff," you tell Emily. "I approve." You rub her in the small of her back, then push her away. "And I bet anything Brownie can't do a backflip, even in Kendra's mask. Bitch only does backflips in bed." Mackenzie guffaws. "Is that really what Jessica thinks?" "Sure 'nuff. Oh, and watch this." You try to do a handstand, but that tent-like jersey Marc provided you falls over your head and face as you throw your feet in the air. "Hang on," you say as you gracefully fall onto your feet again. So you're stripped to bra and panties and balancing on your hands when Laurent and Brownie arrive. After they've recovered from several kinds of shock, you explain that you just got through doing a favor for Marc, and that in return he's covering for you at home. "So where are you gonna crash?" Brownie asks after he's recovered from laughing his guts out with delight. "At Marc's. As him. Again." "Pff, that's boring," Emily snorts. "You should tell Marc's family he's crashing with me." She grabs your hand. "Then we could all go out and do something! Jessica and the rest of the girls!" "It's the middle of the week," Laurent reminds her. "Besides, Jessica's a little to recognizable." He cocks his head and gives you a long look. "You can come crash with me, man." Something in the way he says it suggests that Laurent has an ulterior motive in asking you over. But maybe you don't have to crash with anyone. Now that you've finished your mission for him, you could get back to your place and undo the switch with Marc. Next: "The Girls That Guys Obsess Over" |
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