Chapter #10Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here! by: Seuzz   You mouth falls open. "Me and Caleb? As boyfriend and … and …" The next word doesn't quite want to form.
"You mean you and Jonas," Chelsea says. "Think about it. It's perfect. Naturally, you'll be hanging out with me." She touches your arm lightly. "And Jonas with Gordon. But then you and your friend--"
"Yeah, I get it," you say. Your head swims. "But I don't really want--"
"Oh my God," Chelsea exclaims with a sudden frown. "You're not frigid, are you, Cara?"
"What? No!" You feel yourself reddening, and are shocked at the rush of embarrassment from Cara's personality. There's no way you're going own up to being frigid, not to Chelsea Cooper.
"Well, I'm glad to hear it," Chelsea says. "So, maybe there are some guys you're actually interested in? Because I asked around, and you're not going with anyone."
All the moving parts in your brain seem to seize up. No, Cara isn't going steady with anyone. You have the vague sense of having been on dates, but your conscious mind seems to shy away from faces and names and events. Guys that she is interested in? Something like an icy boulder drops into place, blocking all access to her romantic interests and fantasies. "Well, sure," you squeak. "There are guys I'd-- that Cara would-- Um--"
Chelsea clucks her tongue. "If you don't want to tell me, Cara," she says reproachfully. Then she shrugs. "Maybe you're just disoriented. It is kind of change for you, right?"
You are suddenly very conscious of your state of undress, and look around for your clothes. They are folded neatly on the bed. You look around vaguely as you slowly pick through them. Your own doppelganger has disappeared.
Chelsea sits back at her desk and watches as you pull on the clothes. Very small, very skimpy red panties, which cause you to blush anew as they snap tightly around your hips and crotch. At one and the same time it feels very strange and very natural to not have a package there, and your hips twist as you feel at the absence--and what has replaced it. Then the bra. You fumble with it, having no idea what to do with it. Chelsea notices your hesitation, and comes to your aid. Then it's just the jeans and shirt. The latter binds tightly to your breasts and narrow shoulders, and you take deep, shaky breaths as you pull it down; the skin all over your torso prickles. The jeans are also very tight and short, with the cuffs riding well above your ankles. You sit on the edge of the bed and pull on the tennis shoes. A stray thought of Cara's bubbles up: She wore her newest, nicest shoes just for this meeting with Chelsea, and the head cheerleader didn't seem to notice.
As you finish, Chelsea settles again in her chair. You sit on the bed. "So, tell me about the cheerleader squad, and how all this is going to work," you say.
"Yeah, I'll be making some changes," Chelsea replies. "Getting rid of Yumi and Lin, at the very least. They're troublemakers. Probably Michelle. She's not working out." Her eyes fasten on you. "So there's three slots. One for you, and two for anyone you can recommend."
It sounds like a prompt. "I mentioned all this to some of my friends already," you say slowly. Your brain seems to be slowly thawing. "Peyton and Paris Morrow?"
"Are they twins?" Chelsea frowns. "Oh God, like the Garners?" She seems to ponder the suggestion. "Well, if you can vouch for them," she finally says. "But they'll have to go through the tryouts. You will too, but you're already in, of course. But if I let them join, you have to make it clear that they owe you, and that they have to do what you say. Right?"
It's a demand, not a question, and you nod; and a warm feeling in your breast tells you that it's a demand you won't mind trying to fulfill. But: "Maybe I'd better think about it a little more," you say.
"Yeah, wait until you get settled in," Chelsea says. Then she squeals and leaps over to the bed and embraces you. "Oh, but this is so exciting! Isn't it exciting, Cara?"
Your heart leaps, and that frozen dam in your brain bursts. "Oh God, Chelsea, this is so awesome," you hear yourself exclaim. "Thank you so much for this chance!" The rush of enthusiasm feels very natural, even as you seem to stand outside the flood and watch it from a distance.
You're still hugging each other when there's a heavy bang at the door. It opens and Gordon steps into the room. A gleam comes into his eyes as they fall on you, and his lips go up into half a smile. "So, we're here," he says, and reaches back into the hall to pull another figure in.
Jonas Martin, who only comes up to Gordon's chin. Solidly built, but more wiry than strong. Very brown in his bare arms and face, with equally brown hair cropped very close to his skull. His eyes widen when he sees you, and then they fall, and he looks away with obvious embarrassment.
"And here we all are," Chelsea says, and leaps to her feet. She puts her arm around Gordon's waist and hugs him closely. "Oh, my poor sweetie. Don't worry, we'll get you fixed. We can do that, now that we're all where we need to be."
A brief silence descends on the room, and you find yourself looking at anything else except the other three people in the room. Chelsea obviously notices the silence: "I guess that takes care of business for today. We should let these two get settled, and then we'll talk again." She looks up at Gordon. "Did you give Jonas a ride over?" He grunts an affirmative, and she looks back at you. "Then you should give him a ride home."
"Give him another ride, too," Gordon snickers.
"We'll leave that to them," Chelsea says primly. "Cara, you come and find me tomorrow at lunch. You'll be eating with us in the cafeteria." You nod, and get to your feet. Chelsea says nothing, but squeezes your arm again as you pass her.
Neither you nor Caleb say anything until you get outside to Cara's subcompact car. Then he says, "Give me the keys. I'll drive."
"What the hell?" you demand.
He pauses, then shakes his head. "Sorry. Force of habit, I guess. But come one, lemme drive."
"Well, someone has settled into his new role, I see," you grumble. But he seems recalcitrant, so you toss the keys heavily to him and climb into the passenger seat, where you cross your arms.
"Look, if I'd known that Cara was--" He looks at you sidelong, then falls silent for a moment. "So, you dating anyone," he asks as he starts the car.
"Not you," you bluntly tell him.
"Fine with me. What did Will Prescott have to say when you came out like that?"
"Nothing," you retort. "What did Caleb Johansson--"
"What did Chelsea do with that mask of you?" he interrupts. "I mean, she had to put that stuff in it--"
"Hang on," you say, for your phone has rung. You dig it from your pocket and put it to your ear. "Hi girl," you brightly gush at Peyton's eager voice. Instinctively, you brush a strand of hair behind your ear.
Caleb grabs the phone from your hand. "She'll talk to you later," he growls into the phone, then turns it off and hurls it back in your lap.
"What the fuck, you asshole?"
"This is important," he says. "So stop being this bitch for a moment--"
"You stop being an asshole!"
"--and tell me about that mask of you!"
"She made a copy of me," you snap. "Isn't that the way it's supposed to work?"
"Whose hair did she use?" He jams the car to a stop at a light and glares at you. You only gaze back. "She had to use some hair in that mask. Did she use some of yours? Will Prescott's?"
"I don't know. I wasn't awake when it happened."
He purses his lips angrily. "Because I don't know whose hair she used in mine."
"I thought Gordon took care of your switch."
"She was there too, and I didn't see whose hair she used. Hers or mine."
"What does it matter?"
"It matters," he yells, and turns blazing eyes on you, "because those fake versions of us are just that. Fakes. They're golems, like Gordon, which means they are slaves. But whose slaves? Ours? Or Chelsea's?"
"What does that have to do with hair?"
"I think it's the hair that fixes whose slave they are," he says. The light turns green, and the car behind honks its horn. Caleb flips them off, then jams onto the accelerator and leaps through the intersection. "If they're Chelsea's slaves--"
"Well, what does it matter? We're stuck like this--"
"Go find Prescott tomorrow," he orders. "Figure out if he's your slave or Chelsea's."
"There are too many people thinking they're running things," you hiss back.
* * * * *
The next day you do as Caleb demanded, and it feels rather odd, for you've woken feeling much more like Cara Fuhrman, and have to fight the instinct to go find your new friends so you can tell them about the meeting with Chelsea.
Your replacement isn't at his locker, but you find nearby, and you have to gape a little. He's at Lisa's locker, leaning casually and talking to her. You hold back, unsure how to proceed.
And then a figure brushes past you, and your heart leaps to hammer in your throat. It's Geoff Mansfield, and a geyser of lust explodes in your chest.
You gasp. Cara Fuhrman has the world's biggest crush on the guy who took Lisa away from you!
You stagger away with your head down. What can you do? And then your brain crackles with the answer: You can use Cara to take Geoff away from Lisa. With Chelsea's help it should be easy!   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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