Chapter #12Even more flimsy self-justifications by: imaj   “Sure,” you say, trying and failing to affect nonchalance. Hardly surprising, given the circumstances, but you prefer not to come across as too eager. You reach to your face with one hand, ready to remove the Kelsey mask. Chelsea reaches over and bats it away. “What?”
“Like that,” she repeats, this time pointing at you.
Your jaw hits the floor.
“But I’m, I’m,” you stammer. “I’m a girl.”
“You said you were a guy earlier,” says Chelsea quickly, suddenly serious.
“It’s just that this is all a little, well, you know,” you reply, unsure how to finish what you’re saying. There’s no easy way to say this. No way to look at it that doesn’t drive a truck through the carefully stratified social scene at Westside. A social scene, you remind yourself, that has been cultivated that way by the girl sitting in front of you. You go for broke: “It’s a little gay.”
“No it’s not silly,” Chelsea says eventually, after staring at you a good few seconds more than was comfortable. She’s smiling now, but it’s a smile that looks pasted on. “I’m mean, I’m a girl, you’re a guy. That’s not gay at all.”
There is an uncomfortable pause as you try to rearrange all this to fit inside your head.
“How could I be gay,” she says, uncharacteristically nervous. “I’m the head cheerleader. Whoever heard of a gay head cheerleader?”
This scene is starting to veer into an unpleasant look inside the landscape of Chelsea’s psyche. It is not a pleasant locale. A survival instinct you did not previously know you possessed kicks in and you realise, with horrific certainty, that this could all go badly, badly wrong.
You lean forward kiss Chelsea on the lips, a quick and simple peck to keep her mouth preoccupied before she says something both of you will regret. Leaning back, you smile warmly at her. Not an expression seen often on Kelsey’s face.
“Not gay at all,” she says quietly as she crawls towards you. Chelsea pushes you back to the floor and kisses you aggressively.
It’s shaping up to be a very interesting night.
*****
It’s been two days since the night at the Fuck Room. You still can’t get over just how stupid you were.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Next time the head cheerleader eats you out, if there is a next time, it’s probably not a good idea to comment on how she was so good she must have done this before. It’s a definite no-no if you’re getting a repressed homosexuality vibe from the girl. There’s always been frightening stories floating around about what Chelsea was like angry, and you have to say they are pretty accurate. You were lucky to get away with any of your clothes and had to drive home half naked.
So that’s that bridge burned, and you’ve spent the last couple of days kicking yourself over it. That and sulking in your room on your XBox. In fact, you’re toying with turning it on for a while when your phone buzzes. It’s probably Caleb, he’s been texting you since the day after the gym loft incident wanting to meet up. You’ve not been in the mood.
Your phone buzzes again, insistently. You throw the joypad to one side and flip it open. There’s no caller ID on the messages, just a number, but the content makes it clear who sent it. The first reads ‘Need u at the gym loft’, the second is a more forceful ‘get ther now, txt back let me knowhen’.
It’s probably an invitation to a beating. Probably. Best to get it over with and avoid the humiliation of having it happen at your locker tomorrow. You wonder what Chelsea’s going to say about what happened before she gets her Gordon golem to give you a once over.
*****
It turns out what Chelsea has to say is not a lot. You were ushered into the Fuck Room by an ashen faced Gordon Black. He said nothing, just gesturing inside before taking up position between you and the way out, arms folded and radiating menace. Chelsea, it seemed, didn’t want to talk about what happened. Aware of Gordon’s eye’s burning at your back, you thought better of bringing it up yourself.
“You know Will,” Chelsea says in her insincere voice. “You’ve been real helpful with this mask stuff, super helpful. I don’t think I could have gotten Gordon back without you, but…”
Here it comes, you think. With luck she’ll just brush you off and not bother with having her golem slave kick your ass on the way out.
“It’s difficult to work with you. I work so hard. For the team, for Gordon and for the school. We’re from different worlds, and if people start seeing us together all my hard work might fall apart,” she explains slowly, as if reading from an invisible script. “If people start asking questions, well let me show you something.”
“I understand,” you begin, head downcast. Then your brain catches up with your ears – what does she mean show you something. “Wait, what?”
Chelsea beckons you into one of the corners, gesturing dismissively to the floor.
“What the fuck,” you shout, unable to stop yourself. Steve Patterson is laid out on the floor in front of you, or more accurately, what remains of Steve Patterson is laid out on the floor in front of you. Grey skinned and unmoving, he’s been turned into golem by exactly the same spell that got you into this mess in the first place. “You used that spell again? Knowing what it does?”
“I had to,” shouts Chelsea and you feel yourself wither. Behind you, you hear Gordon shift his weight. Chelsea is riding on the edge right now and you realise you do not want to push her over it. “He was asking questions, figured out something was up with Gordon. He’s never liked me. Fucker. So I had Gordon spring on him, get a mask. And now he won’t ask any more questions.”
“Wait a minute,” you interrupt, puzzled. “You don’t want me to wear that mask do you?”
“Ick! No,” replies Chelsea vehemently. “I just want a Steve slave that will do what he’s told. No more getting between me and Gordon. And we’ll get to use this place to figure out the rest of the book. No interruptions once Steve and Gordon get rid of that faggot Jason like good boys. You’re a good boy aren’t you Gordon?”
“Yes,” Black replies monosyllabically.
“We,” you ask confused.
“Duh, I said I wouldn’t have been able to do it with out you,” replies Chelsea as if she was explaining something to simpleton.
“But you said you couldn’t be seen with me,” you say, now more confused than ever.
“Will Prescott can’t be seen with me,” Chelsea explains patiently. “That’s why I’m getting you a spot on the team. It’s perfect, I’ll be able to speak to you any time I need you.”
“A spot on the team,” you parrot. By this point your brain has given up on understanding what happening. ‘Go with the flow’ an inner voice tells you, ‘It’ll be much simpler than trying to understand what’s happening’.
“Yeah, like we make a Will mask with that goop on the inside, and mask of someone from the team. You get to be them, they get to be you. Isn’t it obvious?”
“The cheerleading team?”
“What other team would I be talking about silly? You could be one of my friends, like Maria or Kendra.”
You can’t quite believe that Chelsea would so callously do that to one of her friends. Then you stop for a second and remember that it’s Chelsea you are thinking about here. Of course she would sell her friends, and you use the term friends loosely here, out if it benefited her.
“You know, now that I think about it there’s a lot of people on the team that don’t appreciate all the work I do for them. For the school. Maybe you could be one of them instead? We could, like, stop them from hurting the rest of the team because they don’t know any better.”
You hear Gordon shift his weight behind you again. Chelsea’s got all the angles covered: She deals with a rival, gets you to decipher the book for her and it’s an offer you can’t refuse. | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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