"It’s freaky how easily this comes to you,” Sydney says, smiling with Blake's grin. “What’s the plan now? We got time for a little mischief?”
“Sadly not, hun,” you say. “Tom’s gonna be out any minute. Then we’re gonna scoot into town for a supply run. I make wax melts, just a little hobby on the side. I do all kinds of smellies. Bath bombs, body butters. Y’know, girlie stuff.” You turn to Will. “And those nails ain’t meant to come off like that. Here’s what you’re gonna do: get some cotton soaked in acetone, put it on the nail to soak, then wrap it up in tin foil, like a roast. You got that?”
Your golem furrows his brow. “This is so freaky,” he complains. “I get why we’re going for moms, but seeing you stand there like that, with… tits.”
“Don’t be jealous that you don’t get to play too,” Blake says, giving him a soft pat on the cheek that he reacts to as if he’s been slapped. Aw, the boy’s a wuss. No wonder he’s the mascot. “We got somewhere we can talk without anyone seeing us?”
You gesture back to the bathroom. “Step into my office.” You instinctively you begin to waddle a little back where you came. “Will, hon, you stand guard. Later tonight, I’ll text you my address. Then I want you to load up everything from the elementary school, put it in a parcel, leave it in the mail box. I’ll pick it up.”
“What, why?” he asks.
“We’re moving base of operations,” you say with a grin. “I’ve got a whole room set aside for my crafts, strictly a no-boy zone. Thomas never takes much interest, and John knows better than to bother me when I’m working.” John. You say the word so easily, but your mind flushes at the thought of the widower you married. Devon’s affection is real, but at least partly paid for by the stream of gifts. Whatever you want is yours, all you need to do is bat your eyes…
The golem grumbles but complies, and you watch as he slouches back to stand guard while you and Sydney – Blake – slip back into the bathroom. Boy’s got terrible posture. If he doesn’t sort that, he’ll need a chiropractor soon. Oh! I could recommend mine to him! You’re barely out of sight when you feel Blake’s body sidle up, and as you spin around as it presses against you. A hush falls as he leans forward and kisses you hungrily, sucking deep on your lip. Oh my goodness! Devon’s taken aback, but you already feel a flush of warmth rising up on your breast as you grab the beauty and continue. Down below you feel a strange sensation, though – something incredibly wrong. You push her away and blink rapidly.
“What’s the matter?” Sydney laughs. “Is she not into younger guys?”
“Actually… I think… oh, mercy, I think I like that quite a lot,” you say, realizing the problem is very different. You take a breath, then fan yourself, even as you brush your blonde tresses back into place. “But you’ll smudge my face. And there’ll be plenty of time for fun later.”
Sydney bursts out laughing. “Yes, there will. Welcome to womanhood, Will Prescott. Now you get to see how the other half lives. So what’s the plan?”
Devon’s brain isn’t exactly genius-level, and there’s so many options it’s hard to contemplate them all. “For now, you’re gonna get home and out of your Blake costume. I’ll message you tonight once I’ve made a few more masks.” You smirk, reaching up to wipe your lipstick from Blake’s mouth. “They ain’t going to see us coming.”
***
“How’d it go?” you beam as Thomas Schmitz slips into the passenger seat, a dour look on his face as he immediately starts looking at his cell.
“Fine. Let’s go.” He barely gives you a second glance.
“All buckled up?” You start the SUV up, listening to the roar of an engine Devon has absolutely no use for. “So what happened? Was it just a bit of school pep?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Thomas says. “C’mon, Devon. Let’s just go.” Devon, never mom. Technically, you aren’t his mom – dead now for the past 10 years. You’re only in your early 30s (35 is still early, right?), and he’s always been cool to you since you married his father three years ago. But that hasn’t dampened your attempts to connect. The car lurches, and makes a slow turn, before heading for the street.
“You know, I was thinking of maybe doing some pulled pork tacos tonight. Bulk you up. Gotta pack on that muscle if you’re gonna turn the season around.”
“It won’t 'turn round',” Tom sighs. “Look, I keep telling you: half the team is a joke.”
“Oh, pish,” you say. “I was just sayin’ to the other moms that maybe you’ll get scouted. I know you lost, but honestly a little hard work and you can get some Ws, I’m sure. It’s all that Cameron Huber’s fault, if he didn’t get sacked half the time…”
“It’s nothing to do with Huber!” Tom protests as you cross the Borman bridge. “I keep. Telling. You. Half the seniors are just burn-outs. They don’t pull their weight. And I don’t even play offense, I’m not even on the field with Huber.” He turns, looking out of the passenger window.
“Well, I think you just need to gel. And next year you’re gonna be a senior, so this season’s just experience for you anyway.” You puff out your chest. Devon Schmitz is excited at the idea of being senior ‘Dragon Mom’ next year. It’s almost like being head cheerleader – a position she never held, but always coveted.
“Hey, Devon,” Blake interrupts. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“Don’t worry, I just have to do some errands, hon. I’ll get you back home in record time, don’t you fret.”
“C’mon…” Tom sulks. “It’s Saturday. I just want to go home.”
“It’s not like I’m making you do chores. We’ll be ten minutes, promise. You’re gonna help me reach the top shelf at the hardware store. I’ve got some new craft projects I’m going to start working on. Fair warning, though, according to the online tutorials I’ve been watchin’ the chemicals involved cause a bit of a stink.” You tilt your sunglasses back up on your nose. “Oh! And speaking of a stink and chores, you think you might clean up that swamp of a room? I can smell the gym socks from all the way down the hall…”
***
The Schmitz residence is nestled comfortably in the middle of Acheson, almost halfway between the Masonic Cemetery and the old elementary school, albeit on the other side of State Avenue than your own neighborhood. The house itself is fairly typical, and reminds you a lot of your own. In fact, if you closed your eyes it could be, if it weren’t for the different colored garage door and the big, tacky sign in the garden. A flimsy placard, like a real estate sign or a politician’s campaign slogan, it proclaims the home of ‘Westside Dragons Safety #27 T. Schmitz’. You didn’t even know they made these things.
Tom, still in a sulk for reasons unknown to you or Devon, vanishes to his room, and it’s 5:30pm by the time John Schmitz walks in, a man on the edge of 50 with peppered hair that Devon utterly adores. You give him a wave from the kitchen as you continue preparing a salsa for your tacos, and chat with him briefly about your days. Then he heads off and you get back to your homebody life. Every so often you catch sight of your reflection – in the window, or the hallway mirror – and pause, posing like you’re on a Martha Stewart cookery show. It’s so much fun.
After dinner, you head out to the mailbox and retrieve your package – the book to go with the supplies you’ve picked up – and you squeal with excitement as you dart into your crafts room and set it down among your craft samplers, pots of glitter and even a little hotplate for melting wax. You almost immediately begin work on the mind band, holding it in place on Devon’s jeweller’s workbench that she uses for charm bracelets – as your ditzy mind confirms, Devon has a lot of hobbies to keep busy at home.
You’ve got a few options for your next move. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so you’ll have your first chance to head to church and scout out the Dragon Moms. Your first move is to pick a new identity for Sydney, and you find yourself conjuring them up in your stolen mind, appraising them like you might look at a dress in Macy’s. Whose body would be the perfect disguise?
Devon sits with three others for each game without fail. The first, the leader, is Carly Hall, proud and fierce mom of Nathan and Kevin Hall. Neither of them have achieved much on the pitch this season, as far as Devon can recall, and sometimes Carly seems more invested in the game than they do. They’re just being teens, Devon’s mind reports. A bit of school spirit and they could turn the team around.
Next up, bringing the noise, is Marta Nieves, mom of Ethan, the middle linebacker. A large, chubby woman usually in loose, flowing dresses, Marta usually brings food for the Dragon Moms, and you swear lights votive candles for victory. Last in the line is April Bridges, mother of James – a player whose impact on the game is so minimal Devon’s not even sure what position he plays. April a realtor and Devon's best friend: the two often have long, gossipy lunches together throughout the week. Any of them could be the perfect get – and both April and Carly will be at church tomorrow.
But there’s one option that pops into your head. If what Tom says is true, then around half the team could do with a little motivation. Maybe Sydney would like to take them as a brotherhood in the service of Baphomet, while you build your coven? Together, you could turn the Westside Dragons into a force... both from within and on the sidelines.
You purse your borrowed lips and text Sydney your idea.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| 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