The Book of Masks (Vol. 1)

The Run for Home

Previously: "F Is for Fake, and for Flinch" 

You've had enough of Mike and Carlos, so you don't want to spend the evening at the complex with them. Still less do you want to see Cindy's boyfriend. So the only question is, to go home by yourself, or to go home with—?

Maria rescues you, as though she were reading your mind.

"I don't see that you need to be a party to our discussion circle, Will," she says. "Though of course you're welcome to participate. You're a member of equal standing in the project. But if you think your presence is required, um, elsewhere—"

"I don't have to be anywhere else," you admit, "but you're the one doing the planning. I'll go along with whatever you decide." You glance between Maria and the Garners. "Um, I feel like I'd just be in the way."

"I understand," Maria says. "But I also want you to know that you're an equal member."

"Thanks." You glance over at Yumi, who has been listening to all this with darting eyes. "I was just going to go home, but, um, Keith, if you wanna leave, you know, you can come hide out at ... my place." Almost you said "Cindy's place."

Yumi's eyes double and redouble their darting about the room as Eva and Jessica exchange hooded glances. "Yeah, um," she stammers, "I kinda feel the same way as Will. You don't really need me, right? I mean, I don't think I got the brains fer this, um—" She turns pink as Eva and Jessica's exchanged glances ratchet up to sly grins.

"Sure thing," Eva says in a slithering tone. "You two just go off and ... keep each other out of trouble."

You have the urge to march over, grab her by the hair, and yank really hard, but you tamp it back. "Come on, Keith," you say, and tug Yumi by the elbow. "I wanna get out of here before Seth decides to come looking for me. I'll see you all at practice tomorrow!" you call back as you hurry out of the bay.

Yumi doesn't say anything until you're almost outside, when she mutters, "So, am I following you back to Cindy's place?"

"You're driving. I got a ride up here with Seth."

"Where is he?"

"On a double date without me."

She stops. "The fuck? You already break up with him?"

"No. It's a long story, and boring as shit. But we have to take your car, so you're driving."

"I don't know how to drive Yumi's car!"

"What do you mean you don't know how to drive her car? It's a fucking car, you dope!"

She blinks at you, and it's a sudden shock to see that, with Yumi and Keith, it's the reverse of what it was with Maria and Philip. Maria was uncharacteristically sharp-eyed and intelligent with him looking out through her eyes. But Yumi, who is usually bright as a tack, is dead-eyed and slack-jawed.

"Yeah, I guess," she now mumbles. She grips the sides of her heads. "I'm so fucking confused."

"About what?"

"I 'unno. I got these milk jugs hanging off my front, for a start, they're all distracting." She grabs her breasts and shifts them around. "And I can't seem to get my balance right." She twists to look back and down at her hips. "I feel like I've got a seat cushion shoved in back there."

"Well, you'll be used to it by tomorrow." You grab her by the arm. "Come on."

* * * * *

The drive back to your place is an aggravation, as Yumi takes it all very carefully, like she's in a driver's ed program again. You have to refrain from chiding Keith with the news that the real Yumi is an aggressive terror behind the wheel, notorious among her friends for running yellow lights as they turn red, skating around corners at high speed, and darting from lane to lane through traffic just to gain a dozen yards.

"Shit," you grumble as she pulls up in front of your house "Lucy's home." You make a face at the SUV.

"Lucy?" Yumi says dumbly. Then her eyes pop. "Jesus, dude! You're living with Lucy!"

You understand her reaction, and it's so intense that you almost vibrate in sympathy with it. Lucy is Cindy's older sister—two years' older—who captained the cheerleader squad when you and your friends were sophomores. She was incredibly swoon-worthy, having the same hair and coloring and face as Cindy, but with a lot more curve, and somehow (at least in your memory) she could make her assets "pop" about ten times bigger than Cindy can.

But balanced against these ravishing temptations are Cindy's own experiences with her sister, who is a mean-girl extraordinaire and openly contemptuous of her little sister's attempts to follow and emulate her. To the extent that Lucy pays any attention to Cindy, it's to sigh with exasperation over her—or to sneer at her taste in boyfriends—but usually she passes by her with frosty, contemptuous silence. Fortunately, Lucy spends most of her time on the college campus, and though technically she still lives at home, five or six nights out of seven she will sleep and eat on campus with friends, at sorority houses, or—so Cindy is convinced—in bed with basketball, football, baseball, soccer, lacrosse and other players, and not always (so Cindy silently, peevishly suspects) of the opposite sex. When Lucy is home, Cindy tends to stay in her room.

"Listen," you hiss at Yumi, "if we run into her, don't talk to her. She's not all that, not what you think she's like. Just say 'hi' and be prepared to duck. And don't go looking for her."

"How come?" Yumi stares at you, and when you glower back her expression curdles. "Yeah, just be a selfish, fucking bitch about it, Prescott, keepin' yer hot sister to yerself."

"Fine," you snarl as you climb out of the car. "But don't come crying to me if she takes your head off with a bazooka." You slam the door and march up the driveway.

It was a surprise—after all the excitement and business at the complex—to have stepped outside and found the sun still shining, and it's a surprise now to come in and find your family still at the dinner table, eating. Your mom and dad look up with cheery smiles at your appearance, but Lucy gives you a blank look and goes back to shoving stewed carrots into her face, even as your mom asks how your date with Seth went.

"I had to cancel it. Something came up." You roll your eyes as your phone goes off with an alert, undoubtedly from your boyfriend again. "But I ran into Yumi—" You pull the girl forward; she's been hanging back. "And brought her home with me. We're gonna do some schoolwork together." You look at her. "Where's your schoolbag?" you ask her.

She blinks at you, mutters, Shit in a low voice, and hurries back outside. "So," you continue, "we're gonna hide out in my room—"

"You can have the family room," your dad offers. "Or sit down, have some supper."

"I might pick at some leftovers later." You notice Lucy looking up at you from under lowered brows. And maybe under that pressure, and because you feel like you have to blurt out something—anything—to get out of that room, you add, in a low, hissing voice, "Yumi's having 'boy' troubles!"

Mr. Vredenburg gets a glazed look, while Mrs. Vredenburg suddenly looks very interested. Her expression is almost hungry as Yumi, empty-handed, returns with a pale look. "I can't find my stuff," she says, "I must'a left it at—" She gulps. "My house."

"It's okay." You push her toward another doorway. "You can just copy out of my books." You almost trip over each other as you shove her in front of you.

"Fuck me," she hisses as you prod her upstairs toward your new bedroom. "I felt like I was naked, like they were looking right through the fucking mask and saw me there!"

"Stop freaking out." You at last push her into the bedroom of the girl whose body, mind, and life you have taken over. You shut the door behind you—

And are momentarily taken aback by the room.

It's on the small side but pin-neat, dominated by a four-poster canopy bed. The wallpaper is a spray of baby blue and pink patterns against a white background, and white, lacy curtains are on the windows. Shelves on the wall hold rows of gleaming trophies of various sizes, and there's a white-blonde desk in the corner with a laptop, a desk lamp, and a Barbie doll mounted on a plinth, its arms posed over its head, which is tilted back to flash a vacant smile at the ceiling.

And it's like you're seeing it with two sets of eyes, one that looks at it all with a slightly bored, Yeah, this is my room, I need to change it up, it's getting stale, while the other set yelps, Holy fuck, I really am a girl, if this is where I'm sleeping! You shake your head, and the two points of view merge into a single one: Mmm, this is nice, and this is mine!

You heave out a vast sigh. "Okay man, now we got the door closed, now you can freak out."

But Yumi is preoccupied with looking the room over, craning her head this way and that—another uncharacteristic reaction, as Yumi has been up here plenty of times. Her gaze settles on the Barbie doll, and she totters over to grab it up. Like a chimp grabbing a banana, you find yourself thinking. "Th'fuck's this?" she says.

"It's a paperweight, a tchotchke, a thing." You march over and grab it from her. "Just sit on the bed and keep your hands to yourself."

She drops onto the bed and bounces. Again, those dead eyes rove the room, then come to rest on you. And slowly they look you up and down. Her lips purse into a smirk, and an ugly gleam comes into her eye.

"Yeah, so, dude," she says in a husky voice. "We were gettin' pretty steamy back at the place." Her smirk deepens. "Wanna pick up where we left off?"

Next: "Making Someone's Dream Come True" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 1)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 1)"