Seanday Lunch: The Notebook – pt.2

Read part 1 here

I had no idea who the professor had disguised himself as, or why.

But casually looking over the information on the cork board I knew he had to be a popular kid, and he was following a theme.

I snorted at the thought that went through my mind. Go back to college as one of these guys, he was bound to recognise the suit and make contact. I shook my head. I'd worked undercover before, but nothing like this.

Pulling the notes and pictures from the cork board, I sat down and studied the details for each of the guys.

Marshall was a nerdy hipster, a popular guy that seems to fit in with everyone: he also helped out the jocks on the football team with their studies. But there's a problem; he went missing a while if Marshall just turns up again he'd certainly be taken away to be debriefed by someone. That wouldn't help my search for the Professor.

I looked over Luke Baulks’ details: A jock, a football lineman. He wasn't the brightest in the team and needed help with his studies. I sucked on my lip; this is possibly where the Professor--looking like Marshall--captured Luke only four days ago. Tipping back in the chair, I pondered that for a moment. Why did the Professor find an identity so quickly after acquiring Luke? Flipping through the notes didn't suggest any reasons either.

Luke was my only option: I didn't like choices being made for me.

I sighed putting the notebook on the chair, and began to get undressed throwing my clothes into the empty crate. I pulled Luke's skin off the frame and held it up in front of myself looking in the mirror. It was a similar build to the when I was a college, although his skin was free of any ink. I'd already started the sleeve that covered my arm when I was eighteen.

Pulling at the skin I tried to figure out how to get in the damn thing. It was then I discovered how stretchy the neck was; damn, it was the only way inside. Sitting on the chair, I pushed my legs down the neck feeling with my toes for the holes to Luke's legs. Grabbing handfuls of the skin started to pull it up over my own body. He was a little shorter than me, but the more I pulled it up and shorter I was becoming.

The neck to the skin stretched even more as I pulled it up under my armpits, but I need more room. I picked at the edge and slid a thumb inside, then an elbow, and an arm. I found the opening any pushed my arm inside Luke's. With the neck stretched, my second arm slipped in easier. Picking up the mask, I pulled it over my head pushing its features into my own and smoothing down the edges. Closing my eyes, I turned to the mirror and then opened them.

Standing before me was the reflection of Luke Baulk, a nineteen year old jock from college. Then it hit me, a needle like prickling into my mind. I let out a yell, kneading my forehead with the heel of my hand, and just as quickly the pain stopped. I blinked slowly, and through a fog I realised all Luke's memories belonged to me.

---

I remembered Marshall, leaning over me in my dorm? No, it was Luke's dorm and he felt some confusion seeing Marshall; he normally tutors him on Tuesdays. Then he felt a jab in his neck and everything going dark.

Then a fractured memory of looking into a mirror: Luke's own reflection again, still in his dorm. His eyes glancing around the room, not under his own control and seeing Marshall's crumpled empty skin on the floor.

I shook my head, but the flashback forced its way through my mind. Luke glimpsed himself in the mirror as he emptied his kit bag and stuffed what remained of Marshall inside.

The memory fades again, then a brilliant flash as the memory of Luke hitting the ground hard. He blinks hard, it's the sun and Luke is looking through a face guard. He's on the field, in the middle of a game, and he's just been sacked. He licks his lip, and he can taste blood: Fucker!

Luke's eyes narrow and he casts them across to another player. He mutters something under his breath and there's a shout: "OK you pussies get showered up," it's the coach.

He feels a wry grin cross his face and scrambles to his feet jogging after the remainder of the team.

A shutter closes on Luke's memories, and the image of his team mates going into the locker room fades and burns like a scorched film.

---

With a blink, I'm back to the present looking through Luke's eyes again at his reflection in the mirror, in that small room hidden in the Professor's house. I wobble a little taking it all in, and regain some composure. It was Thursday evening, with football practice tomorrow--for Luke. I wanted to get a handle on being this jock before taking on college life, best place for that was back at the student apartments.

From the crate with Luke's name on it, I pulled out his clothes and dressed: underwear, jeans, shirt, socks and trainers. Everything I needed to continue being Luke was here, even down to mobile, wallet and ID. Remembering the notebook, I stuffed it into my back pocket.

Making my way back to the student apartments, I spot the first test for my acquired identity. Ahead of me was the security guard, they'd tightened up at the doors since students started to go missing. I flashed him my ID, and he waved me through: unquestioned. For the moment, I was Luke Baulk a nineteen year old jock in from the cold.

End of part 2.