Chapter #46Things Not As You Left Them by: Masktrix   You can’t resist. You watch as the Shelly golem walks past, seemingly lost in whatever she’s gossiping about with the other freshmen. Her hair is different than before, more styled – something that automatically worries you given its tendency to vanish into thin air when cut – and the Harry Potter backpack has gone, replaced with a more age-appropriate denim rucksack. The way she carries herself is different, too. The only nod to her obsession seems to be a blue and black house scarf that swaddles her neck.
“Hey, Shelly,” you say as she passes. For a moment, you worry that she’s going to continue on and ignore you, but instead she comes to a juddering halt.
“One sec!” she says to her friend, before beaming at you with a smile so wide you swear it probably causes a butterfly effect and levels a dam in China. “WILL!” She says, bounding over, ignorant of the dangers of crossing streams in a school corridor and sending a set of sophomores out of step rhythm, causing a shriek further behind as one of the cheerleaders spills a drink on her uniform. “OH MY GOD! I haven't seen you in forrrrrreeeeeevvveeeerrr. Not since you were my mentor. Nope, haven’t seen you at all or spoken to you or anything.”
You can’t help but laugh as you glance down at her, a pretty odd couple of dorks in the middle of school. Jesus, she really is a terrible actress. “I just wanted to see how it’s going.”
“Amazing!” she nods happily. “I mean, stuff’s good, I guess. Most of my mid-terms were pretty good. Oh! And I adopted a pygmy puff for my birthday! I mean, it’s a plushie one, obviously, but my mom doesn’t let me have pets because of my allergies.”
“I like the new haircut,” you say. She blushes a little, and pats her hair.
“Yeah? Thanks! Uh, Almida said it’d make me look more sophisticated. She’s so cool, like, she knows all the freakin’ cool things. Said to change up my backpack too, because it’s pretty like, middle schooler to advertise your fandom. In high school, you have to rep your fandom.” She grins, and waves the end of her scarf. “See? Like this. Niamh brought it back from England for me! It’s an actual Ravenclaw scarf! Like, from Platform 9 3/4, which she had to visit to get to Cambridge! How amazing is that!”
You try and keep up with her hyperspeed, struggling to follow along. ‘Almida’ must be Almida Jones, the captain of the basketball team. For a while you wonder how a freshman dork like Shelly Nolan would end up with someone like her, but then you remember how you pushed her into the arms of Kim Walsh’s mentoring program. Almida must have drawn the short straw. You have to admit, there’s a genius to her approach to snapping the freshman out of her middle school mindset by ‘repping’ her obsession.
“Yeah, pretty amazing,” you interrupt. “Look, I need to talk to you about stuff.”
“Uh,” the golem gives you a shifty glance. “I’m kind of late for class, and so it’s not a good time.”
You stare at the golem. This is the first time it’s ever been disobedient. “It’s current issues,” you say. “My friend Keith’s in it so it can hardly be brain surgery. It can wait. C’mon.” You gesture to the first available place that is out of earshot from anyone, but Shelly looks at you and shakes her head.
“I can’t, Will. OK? I mean, I totally would, but I freakin’ can’t. Not about anything…” she mouths the word ‘magical’.
You look at its desperation, and suddenly you realize exactly what it’s trying to say. Niamh’s told the golem not to tell you anything. And, given you gave it a standing order to treat her like a boss… “I’m countermanding that,” you say, keeping your voice low and firm. “I created you. So I’m commanding you to follow me. Now.”
Still, Shelly doesn’t move. All she does is hop awkwardly on one foot to the other, like a girl with the biggest secret in the world who can barely resist it bursting out of her. “No,” she says, her tone apologetic but firm. “I’ve got to get to current issues. But it was great to see you again! And, oh yeah! Niamh gave me a message to tell you if you ever spoke to me again. I’m really sorry, but I kind of have to do this, OK? I don’t mean it! I’m really sorry!”
She steps back for a moment, then, wiggling with melodramatic rage like an active volcano, screams: “GO FUCK YOURSELF, WILL PRESCOTT!”
You squirm under the intense gaze of the entire corridor. Shelly tries to look enraged, but ends up just looking awkward and embarrassed. Then, with a final glance, she slips back into the currents of the school corridor.
You watch, dumbfounded, as she vanishes into the crowd.
***
“I didn’t know you were into comic books,” you say, hunched up under your cap in the chill November air as Niamh walks out of King Kong Komics. “I thought you were just a gamer girl.”
“I’m allowed to have other interests, Will,” Niamh says with an almost audible eyeroll. “I’m not defined by Nintendo. Well… maybe I am a bit. But you of all people should know everyone contains multitudes.” She gives you a sardonic look as she slips out of the door. When you texted her to meet, you were surprised this is the place she settled on. You get the impression it’s largely where she could get a lift from Mariah. She smiles. “Thanks for coming.”
“Yeah, well.” You shrug, not knowing what else to say. You messaged Cassie that you were busy tonight, but you still feel exposed in the middle of town. The last thing you need is one of the school’s myriad gossips to spot you with your ex-girlfriend and tell your current– wait. Is Cassie even your girlfriend, or is this one of those Lisa situations where you’re misinterpreting the whole thing? Fuck, why do girls have to be so complicated?
You nod for her to get in your cab and decide to drive the long way to the cathedral, in the desperate hope that nobody spots you and tells Cassie. You glance over at Niamh, who’s watching the road with interest. “So, ah, I spoke to Shelly for the first time in a few weeks,” you say. “The fake Shelly, I mean. The golem.”
“Oh?” Niamh says, turning to you.
“Yeah. She delivered your message. That was classy.” Niamh doesn’t say anything, so you continue the short drive, turning to scoot past the court houses. “Having her yell ‘go fuck yourself’ at me in the middle of the corridor? It’s not exactly in character.”
“No, I guess it wasn’t,” she says. “Did she say anything else?”
“Yeah. That you’d told her not to tell me anything. Not to even talk to me about magic stuff. Plus she was doing her weird skittish acting thing.”
“What do you mean?” Niamh asks.
“Y’know, how she draws out every word when she’s lying through her teeth. ‘Oooh my God, Willll, I haavvvvnn’tttt seen you in foreevvvvveeerrr’.” You smile as you find a place to park in the cathedral lot, laughing a little. To your relief, Niamh joins in with a laugh of her own.
“Yeah, she does tend to be a bit melodramatic,” she agrees. “Look, the message… I told her that before I went to England. I guess I was still mad at you.”
“I know,” you say quietly. “You had every right to be. And I hope me only getting the message today shows you I did everything you asked.” You turn the engine off. “I gave up the book, left Shelly alone, didn’t ask about you once. Even though I kind of wanted to.”
Niamh gives a bashful smile. “I kind of wanted you to ask sooner,” she says. “But I guess you’re with Cassie now. Although–“ she pauses for a moment.
“Although what?”
“Nothing,” she says, a faint disappointment in her voice. “Forget I said anything. We should focus on the book.” She climbs out of the truck and lingers in the chill. You climb out and take the lead, heading toward the basement entrance. Fortunately you still have the key, and you open it up and reach inside to flick the light on.
“So, you going to tell me what part you’re stuck on?” you ask, walking down the steps. You hear Niamh walk to the top of the door, but pauses at the head of the stair. “I mean, the Latin sucks, that’s the part I found the worst. The sigils are complex, but they kind of make sense to me. It’s like my brain just unpicks them. And…” you halt. “What the fuck.”
You turn back to look at Niamh. She has something in her hand, but quickly thrusts it back in her pocket and smiles. “What?”
“You didn’t tell me you’d moved…”
Niamh looks at you surprised, and begins to head down the stairs to your side. “Moved what, Will? I haven’t moved anything.”
Words fail you. You gulp and flounder, before managing to squeeze out a simple “Gone.” You both rush forward, past the open floorspace with the exposed beams, beyond the table tennis tables shoved up in the corner where you cowered before the St. Xavier girls, over to the space at the far end. The work bench is laid out, the usual chemicals and reagents present, along with a small pestle and the stains from the sigils where someone has been casting spells.
“Where’s the fucking book?” Niamh says, noting a clear rectangular space reserved among the tools as an obvious place where it would sit.
“Fuck the book,” you say, looking at her in horror and gesturing the floor, now empty where a stone statue sheathed in cloth should be. “Where the fuck is Shelly?” You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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