This choice: Go with Caleb to see Chelsea • Go Back...Chapter #7Diagnosis: Magic! by: Seuzz   On the drive back up to the school you press Caleb for more details about the book and what he did with it. He repeats what he'd said before: that with the book you can make magical masks that will let people disguise themselves perfectly as other people. As for how Gordon got the book: The day after he tricked you into putting your own mind and image into a mask, he put it on at school and tried ambushing Gordon at school. "I got a mask onto him," Caleb says, "but he came out of the stupor real fast while I wasn't paying attention. He took it and the book from me. Chelsea showed up, or else I would have lost a few teeth too. Or, I guess, you would have lost a few teeth."
"I oughta take a few teeth from you myself," you growl at him. "What kind of a fucking moron were you being, trying to make a copy of Gordon Fucking Black?"
"I was being you," he retorts. "So that answers what kind of moron I was being. And I wanted to copy Gordon because, dur, use the disguise to get close to Chelsea!"
You shoot him a slit-eyed, sidelong glance. No way you're going to leave him alone with Chelsea now!
* * * * *
The head cheerleader is pacing the gym when you arrive. "About time," she snaps, and leads the two of you back up into the loft. Caleb strides over to the altered Gordon with a businesslike air and crouches next to him. He pokes and prods at the figure. Chelsea watches; you sidle up to her, but she ignores you. "So, you're going to fix things, right?" she says in a way that is less a question and more a demand.
"Lemme see the book," Caleb says. "Which spell was it did this to him?" Chelsea retrieves the book from the top of a crate and hands it to him. Caleb purses his lips as he peers into it. "Mm-hmm," he says in a knowing tone.
"You're holding it upside down," you say.
"Fuck you," he retorts. "I know what I'm doing. Well, mostly," he adds grudgingly as he flips back a few pages. "This is an advanced spell. Your boyfriend was in way over his head. Tell me exactly what he did."
"I wasn't paying attention," Chelsea says. "He mixed up some stuff—" She nods at some plastic containers on a nearby crate. "Then he poured it over himself and set himself on fire."
"He what?" you gasp.
"Keep your shit together, Prescott," Caleb says. "What about this spell back here, the one before this one?" He taps the page. "Gordon must have done that one too."
His cool, professional act is grating hard on you. "What makes you so sure—?"
But Chelsea is also talking. "I don't know," she says shrilly. "It was all fun when it was those masks, but then he had to go out to the cemetery to get a lot of dirt, and I stopped paying attention. It was gross."
"But he made something, right?" Caleb says. "Where is it? Where is all the stuff that Gordon made?"
"I think most of it is here," she says, pointing again at the containers. "And he made a big lumpy statue-like thing, kind of like—" She swallows, and nods at the transformed Gordon. "Kind of like that. Only it didn't look like someone. He hid it someplace, because he couldn't leave it up here."
"And the masks?" Caleb asks. "There's at least one mask, right?"
Chelsea glares at you. "Yes. Of course. It's around. Someplace."
"Let's see it."
Her eyes narrow. "Why?"
"Let's get everything together, so we know what we have."
"It's around," she repeats firmly. "That's all you need to know."
Caleb sighs. "Fine. But look, I'm going to have to take this book home and study it, see if there's some way to—"
Chelsea marches over and yanks the book from his hands. "No. Fucking. Way. You fix things here and now. While I'm watching."
"I don't think we'll be able to—"
"Here and now," she repeats. She and Caleb stare hard at each other. You have to give your friend props for not blinking. Chelsea turns red. "Get out of here," she says. "Go downstairs. Wait down in the gym until I come get you."
Caleb looks at you; you shrug. He takes a deep breath and accedes.
"You don't have any idea what you're doing, do you?" you say when you're down on the gym floor.
"Not really," he admits. "They got two spells deeper into the book than I did, and those spells do stuff that isn't like what I found. Those statues, man. Those are fucking weird. Like, what are they for?"
"What do the spells look like?" you ask him. You only have a vague memory of lots of Latin phrases.
"Not much to see," he says. "Some sigils and stuff. Ingredients and instructions are all in Latin, and really hard to translate. We need to get the book away from her," he says firmly. "Get it away from her, and then we can take care of her however we want. At least Gordon did a nice thing and got himself out of the way."
"Christ, listen to yourself!"
"It's use or lose, Will," he says. "Us or her. And she's small and there's two of us—"
"Maybe you better not count on me," you blurt out before you can catch yourself. He looks over at you sharply. "I mean, I don't know what you're thinking about doing, but Chelsea is asking for our help. We should try helping her."
"And suppose we do," he sneers. "Suppose we get Gordon back. What happens then? You think he's going to be grateful?"
"Chelsea would be. Um, probably." You feel yourself turning red.
"Don't count on it," he hoots.
Well, that's the start of a tedious argument, which doesn't go anyplace and takes its sweet time going over some very profitless ground. And then ten minutes later it all feels moot.
A heavy tread on the stairs to the loft heralds the arrival of the last person you'd expect to see: Gordon Black. You and Caleb both jump. "Fucking hell!" you squeak. "Chelsea— Chelsea figured it out herself!"
"Sort of," Gordon growls. "This'll do for the time being." He adjusts his t-shirt and shorts as though unused to their feel. "I told you I had that mask you made, Prescott. So I guess I'll have to double up until you assholes manage to fix the real one."
Your jaw falls open. It's scarcely believable, but— "Chelsea?" you squeak.
Caleb nudges you in the ribs. "Yeah, I guess that'll work," he says. "But you should still give the book back to us—"
"Sure," the Gordon-disguised Chelsea says. "But don't get any ideas. Because between me and Steve and Jason and lots of other guys—" He comes up close and glowers down at you. He doesn't have to finish. So much for you and Caleb being able to take Chelsea by yourselves. "Okay," she continues. "We need to get Gordon out of the loft . You two can help."
* * * * *
She leads the two of you back up the stairs. She has to do most of the work herself, lofting the statue up by its heavy end while you and Caleb take the feet. You maneuver it down the stairs and out to the parking lot and into the bed of your truck. "I got a pretty good idea where Gordon stashed that other statue, and we can put him with it," she says. "I'll take the Bug. You guys follow in the truck."
It's a quiet drive—neither you nor Caleb have anything to say to each other—and you wind up at the old quarry outside of town. Again, with Chelsea's help you take Gordon down a slope into a shallow cave that's been carved in a wall near the bottom. Sure enough, there's a lumpy mannequin-like thing on its floor. With a grunt, you drop Gordon next to it. From Gordon's backpack, Chelsea takes the book and drops it onto Gordon's chest. "Now, if you two chicken-shits are really serious about helping, pick it up."
It feels like a dare, and you blush at your own hesitation. Caleb, though, calmly picks it up. "See you tomorrow?" he serenely asks.
Chelsea gives a curt nod. "Noon. Here. You better have something."
"Something," Caleb echoes. There's an awkward pause, then he tugs you and leads you back up to your truck. "Leave it to me," he says as he slides into the cab of your truck. "I'll stay up all night going over things."
"Are you going to tell her that it was really you that ambushed Gordon that day?" you ask.
"Why would I?" he asks. "It gives you and her a special connection. Why would I get in the way?"
You flip him off.
* * * * *
You spend a restless, sleepless night, not falling asleep until nearly three in the morning. Caleb wakes you early with a phone call. "I'll buy you coffee if you meet me at the donut shop," he says.
You mumble something, then get a shower and race from the house.
And all the way over on the drive, you're wondering why Caleb should be getting the credit for curing Gordon while it looks like you'll have to take the blame for mugging him with a magical mask.  | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author