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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1066212
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by Seuzz Author IconMail Icon
Rated: GC · Book · Occult · #2193834
A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises.
#1066212 added March 15, 2024 at 12:36pm
Restrictions: None
Ambushes and Ambushed
Previously: "Boys in MindOpen in new Window.

"Hey, I'll catch up to you in class," you tell Kerri, then dart over to intercept James. He rears back as you jump in front of him.

James is a tall guy, probably closer to six-one than to six, and lanky but without being skinny. He's got a long but well-proportioned face under a thick but orderly thatch of brown hair, and he typically wears the usual Westside-normal-guy school uniform: blue jeans, a t-shirt, and either a flannel jacket or a hoodie. Today it's the latter.

You like James, but you're a little daunted by him. He's both street smart and AP smart, and like his best friend Carson he's got a cussed streak in him that comes out in low-level pranks against the bullies, assholes, and jerkwads at the school. People you know still marvel at how he and Carson managed to glue Seth Javits's sneakers to the floor of the school library while he was still in them.

Jessica, you can feel, like James a lot too, and as you look at him now you feel the tug of memories of her vaguely wondering if he'd be worth pursuing as a boyfriend. And that gives you the confidence to pursue an idea that otherwise might feel a little hare-brained.

"You hear about Maggie's party this Friday?" you ask him.

"Maggie Crenshaw?" he warily asks. "Something about it, yeah."

"You got plans to go?"

"No," he says, even more warily.

"Well, I want you to go." You poke him in the stomach. "And I want you to take Eva with you."

He doesn't react, and for a moment you think he must not have heard you. But then he says, like a retard, "Eva?"

"That's what I said, Eva. My sister." You lift your eyebrows. "You got a problem with her?"

"Well, no, but—" His brow furrows. "Is this her idea?"

"No, it's mine. Look, would you like take her out on a date? Or would you rather stay home on a Friday night and watch internet videos on your phone?"

His mouth falls open, and works silently. His eyes go in and out of focus. You can hardly believe the way he's hesitating, and your heart chills. "Are you serious?" you demand. "You really can't pick between—?"

"No, I mean I— I— Uh—"

"Look, it's easy," you tell him, "just ask her out. Today. You have a class with her later? Never mind." You push against him, and he steps back until he's wedged up against a locker, a frown of alarm on his face. "You find her, today, and you tell her you'd like to take her to Maggie Crenshaw's party on Friday. She'll say yes or she'll say no. If she says no, you can stop shitting yourself. If she says yes, then you got a date with her for Friday night, and a place to take her. What's the problem?"

"What's the problem?" he echoes.

"Yeah, why don't you—? You do like my sister, don't you?"

"Well, yeah but—"

"I know you like talking to her. You're comfortable with her."

"Sure, but—"

"But what?"

His eyes bulge and glaze, and he rakes his hand through his hair. "What's the idea?" he stammer.

You reach up to grab a handful of his hair, and he gasps as you drag his head down to your face.

"The idea, you dumb fuck," you growl at him, "is that you take my sister to a party. Or at least ask her. If you wind up going, you have fun. Or you don't. Either way, you find out what happens. Christ, this isn't fucking calculus or nuclear physics."

You push him back. He bounces off the locker and stares at you with very wide eyes.

"Text me tonight to tell me that you asked her out," you order him. "And you don't tell her that I told you to ask her out." You jab him in the stomach a couple of more times, for emphasis. "And you don't tell Carson I told you to ask her out. You don't tell anyone—none of your dumb friends—I told you to do this. This is just between me and you." You jab him again in the midriff.

"Alright, but I still don't—"

He gasps and hunches as you kick him in the shin.

"What are you going to do, James?" you ask him. "What are you going to do next period, or after class, or this evening? What did I tell you—?"

"I'm going to ask Eva out, ask her to go to Maggie's party with me." He now looks both frightened and bewildered. "Jesus!"

"Good. And remember. Don't. Tell. Anyone!"

* * * * *

Seventh period is English, and you've got a lot of friends in there. Besides Kerri and her friend Laci, two old friends from the soccer team, Mikaela Bowers and Dani Sumner, are in there too, and so is Jenny. For that matter, Marc is in there, and also sits in with you and this group of girls.

But it's Adam Dortch who speaks to you first this day. You're just settling in when he comes sauntering over. "Hey, hear you're gonna be at Maggie's party this Friday," he says with a smirk.

"Uh huh." You tense.

"Look for you there." He jerks his chin at you, and saunters back over to throw his tall self into a desk next to his girlfriend.

Bright glances are being exchanged by all the girls, and you quickly infer that they all know that you'll be going with Luke. Marc, though, has a puzzled look on his face. And it doesn't clear up until Luke's name has been batted around enough for him to make certain deductions of his own. His expression is clouded when class is over, but he doesn't say anything even as he follows you out of the room.

Last period is Calculus, which you have been dreading. Aside from the fact that it is the one class that you know Jessica had homework in—homework you didn't do, and will be forced to confess you didn't do—you also share it with Lisa Yarborough, your old girlfriend, whom Jessica is good friends with and who she sits with (along with Jenny) in that class.

But mostly, today, you're dreading it because Laurent and Brownie have that class too. And you wonder how they'll react when they see you.

Because what if Marcos has been telling them what happened between him and Jessica?

Your worst fears are, if not confirmed, at least amplified when you enter the room. Laurent and Brownie are hunched in their desks, snickering at something on Laurent's phone. For a moment you think you're going to be able to get away with sliding past them unnoticed, but as you follow Jenny over to the other side of the room, you notice Brownie catching sight of you. He nudges Laurent, and the two of them fall silent to watch you cross the front of the room. Your spine prickles as you feel their eyes upon your back, and after settling in your desk you notice the pair of them with their heads very close together, talking in whispers.

So unnerved are you by this sight that you flinch at the touch of a fingertip to your shoulder. It's Lisa: "Can I see what you got for number fifteen?" she asks.

"Huh? Oh. I didn't do my homework last night," you mutter. "There was other stuff going on."

"Luke Richardson asked her out," Jenny smugly informs Lisa.

"Jenny!"

But she just smirks at you and settles back in her seat.

"Hey Jessica," a deep voice sounds behind you. Keith Tilley—who is also in that class—jumps back a foot as you whirl sharply in your desk. "Well, yeah?" you gasp at him when he just stares dumbly at you. Your heart is nearly exploding from your chest, because you half expect Keith to address you by your real name.

"I gotta message for you from my man Will," he says. "F'rgot to give it to you last period."

"Will?" you say, and almost choke on your real name. "What, can't he text me?"

Keith blinks, and his expression turns even more cretinous than usual. "I 'unno," he mumbles. "He just told me to tell you to remind you that you owe him eighty dollars an' he wants it for tomorrow."

"What? Come back here!" you holler as Keith, with a shrug, starts to shuffle off. "What are you talking about?"

"I ain't talkin' about nothin'," he says. "My man Will—"

"Stop talking about 'my man Will'! Are you talking about Will Prescott?" Out of the corner of your eye you watch Lisa, to see how she reacts to your name, but she is only listening with a slight frown. "What did he say to tell me?"

Keith sighs.

"He told me to tell you to remind you that you owe him eighty dollars—"

"I don't owe him eighty dollars!"

Keith blinks again. "That's what he told me to tell you. Oh yeah!" He scratches the side of his mouth with a dirty fingertip. "He also says to tell you to bring it to school tomorrow, or else he's gonna have to come over to your place and get it and ... something about breaking curfew, but he'll let hisself get grounded for a month if that's the only way to get the money back from you. I was s'posed to specially tell you that."

Keith blinks again, dopily at you, but when you just gape at him he shuffles back off to his seat.

There's silence from Lisa and Jenny as you yank your phone from your bag and quickly shoot off an angry text to Will Prescott's number. "Fucking hell," is all you growl when Jenny asks if you really owe Will some money.

You cuss a lot of worse words to yourself after class, when you check your phone and find that your text has gone undelivered. So you look for him at his locker, and when he doesn't show up there you hustle out to the student parking lot. But his truck is already gone.

You're standing in the lot, fuming hard, when you hear your name called, and you quail internally when you see it's Laurent. Of course, you don't want to talk to him.

Besides, you've got a text from Carson, offering you a ride home if you're willing to have a talk with him.

* To talk to Laurent: "Laurent Drops the BombOpen in new Window.
* To talk to "Will": "Jessica Has PlansOpen in new Window.

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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1066212