The Book of Masks (Vol. 1)

Your New Face

Previously: "Like a Key in a Lock" 

"It's almost suppertime," Keith says, and checks his phone. "Shit, it's past suppertime at my place! I wonder if my dad's been ..." He starts swiping and tapping at his phone. Caleb also takes out and looks at his.

This would be the perfect reason to shut things down for the evening, but you're not ready to give up.

"I don't need to go home," you tell the others. "I told my mom I'd get something to eat with you guys. But I can run back to my place and get a paint brush, and be right back."

Caleb nods. "You do that. But if we're not here when you get back, don't try anything."

"I'm not that stupid," you retort, and cast a meaningful glance at Keith. But he's absorbed in his phone and doesn't notice.

* * * * *

It only takes you fifteen minutes or so to get home, find a paintbrush in the garage, and get back to the school, where you find Keith and Caleb both waiting: they had talked to their dad and mom, respectively, and made arrangements to stay out. You're all very quiet as you huddle in the darkening basement and, by the pooled lights from your cell phones, apply the sealant to the inside of the mask.

It goes on smoothly and dries quickly, and though the paste is an off-white inside the bowl it goes on transparently, so that the mask is just as blue as it was before you started. There's a nervous moment afterward, as you all look at each other. Keith hollowly suggests putting the mask away and not doing anything with it, because it's too "dangerous"; Caleb brushes him off by saying that the book hasn't fucked you over yet, but does suggest drawing straws. Then you brush him off, by saying that you'll volunteer. You hesitate and almost change your mind, though, when Caleb asks if you're going to take your clothes off first. "Might want to," he dryly observes.

Well, it's not like you haven't been naked in front of guys in P. E., so you pull your shorts and shoes and t-shirt off and lay yourself out on the dusty conference table where you've been doing your work. "Hang on," you say, stopping Caleb who is advancing on you with the mask. "If this thing does change me— Well, how do we change me back?"

"Book has instructions," he says.

"Well," you say with a quaver in your voice, "soon as we get it on me, let's try to get it off. Okay?"

Caleb nods. "Want me to put it on you? Or you do it yourself?"

"You put it on me," you decide. You're starting to shake, and your palms feel slick with sweat. "Hang on." You take a deep breath, then close your eyes. "Okay," you murmur, and steel yourself against what might be a dreadful thing.

For a moment you feel nothing but a faint swish of air against your cold, bare skin. Then you feel a light pressure on your face: the mask settling into place. For a fraction of a second it sits there. Then it grows very heavy. And heavier still.

And heavier still.

At the same time a paralyzing warmth spreads through your limbs. It's quite pleasant, actually, as though you have been lowered into a vat of warm honey. A deep drowsiness steals over you, and you just have time realize you are falling asleep when you are overwhelmed by darkness.

* * * * *

You are woken by a gentle shaking of the shoulders, and by a voice calling your name. You come out of sleep with a start, and are sitting up on your elbows almost before you are conscious of yourself.

It is very dim and you are chilled all over. The faces of Caleb and Keith float in the darkness, lit by the gem-like lights from their phones. You blink stupidly at them, and try to raise up. You fall back but catch yourself, then push yourself up again. By the time you are sitting, though, you feel almost fully awake again. "Jesus," you mutter as you rub an eye. "Was I asleep?"

"Yeah," Caleb says. "How do you feel?"

"A little groggy, but— Oh my God!" The afternoon and evening's events come crowding back. "The thing! On my face! What did—?"

"Calm down, it's okay," Caleb says.

"What did it do? Did you get it off me?"

"Yeah, we got it off. But come look at yourself."

Your heart almost explodes out of your chest. "What happened?" you gasp. "What did it do to me?"

"You're fine, Will! I just mean, we got it off you, then we put it back on. So we know we can get it off. But— You gotta see this."

A hard shiver of fear runs through you; despite Caleb's soothing manner, you are terrified of what you might find. He says you are now wearing that mask—your hands instinctively go to your face, but they touch nothing but flesh—and you have no idea what it has done to you.

Caleb helps you up while Keith hangs back, and when you are sitting upright Caleb hands you your phone. The camera is on, and a dimly lit face fills the screen.

Your first thought is that the lens is turned toward Keith, because the face on the screen looks vaguely like his. But then you realize it's not pointed at him, nor is the face there mimicking his movements. It's not until you stick your tongue out to nervously lick your lips, and the face in the screen does the same, that you realize who it is. You freeze.

It looks like Keith, but at the same time not quite. The face isn't as narrow, the eyes not quite so dull and droopy, the lips not quite so thick. And there are two distinct eyebrows instead of Tilley's quasi-monobrow. The hair is also a little longer, a little thicker.

But one thing you can say for sure: You don't look anything like yourself.

"How does it feel?" Caleb asks.

"Um ... okay, I guess." You actually feel a little disassociated from yourself, a little light-headed.

"Do you feel like you're wearing a rubber mask? Like your skin is fake?"

You touch then scratch your cheek experimentally. "I don't think so." You close your eyes, to get the picture of a "fake face" out of your head, and touch and tickle your face some more. "No, it feels like ... real skin."

"Your voice is different," Keith pipes up. "Dude, is that what I sound like?"

"No," Caleb answers. "You don't sound like yourself either," he tells you, then cocks his head. "Well, sort of. Maybe."

"What about the rest of me?" You look down at yourself, but can't make out much. Tentatively you drop your hand to your crotch and explore the patch of wiry hair. You flinch, but it's a relief when you feel something fleshy down inside it.

"I think we should take it out and get a good look at it," Caleb says. "It's too dark in here."

"You want me to take the mask off?"

"No, I mean we should go out someplace. With you like this. We still need to eat," he adds, as though that's the important thing.

"I can't go out like this!" you protest.

"Why not?"

"Because ... People will see me!"

"So? What'll they see? Just a guy."

You see his point, but it still frightens you a little. People will see me ... but they won't know it's me!

"Come on, Will, get dressed. I'm starving."

* * * * *

You wind up taking Caleb's car, with him driving and Tilley in the front while you hunch in the back. Your clothes fit you fine even though Caleb noted that you have lost at least an inch or two in height. You can't help touching yourself a little on the drive, to get a feel for the rest of your body. You've got less hair on your body now: you're smooth-chested for a start, and your forearms and calves are downed with light, thin hair. Your arms and your legs feel better toned and shaped, too. That must be an influence of Stephanie's body, for she's a strong-limbed athlete whereas you and Keith are both on the scrawny side. At least you don't have boobs (though your chest seems to have some definition). You can't shake the feeling that there's something really squicky going on, but it's also exciting. You squirm in place and have a hard time sitting still on the drive out.

You wind up at the McDonald's on Orlando Road, not far from your house. While Caleb and Keith order, you duck into the restroom to get a better look at yourself under some bright lights.

The face that looks back from the mirror now looks a lot less like Tilley's. It's fuller and—not to put too fine a point on it—more handsome than Keith's, though it's enough like his that you know you won't get flirted with unless the girl is very drunk. The greatest resemblance is in the eyes, which like Keith's are heavy-lidded and slightly frog-like. But even there there's a subtle difference which comes out when you relax. Keith just looks dopey and a little stoned when he's chilling, but there's a cooler confidence in this face's eyes: a hint of a Don't fuck me with me 'cos I ain't impressed attitude—something else that probably came from Stephanie's influence on the mask.

The guys are at a table when you come back out, and you drop into the booth opposite them. Keith winces at the sight of you while Caleb thoughtfully munches a fry and studies you narrowly. You feel like a walking science project.

After sucking down a mouthful of hamburger, Caleb points at you and says, "We need a name to go with that face."

"What for?"

"To introduce it if we crash any parties."

"What parties?" Keith asks. "This is Monday."

"This weekend," Caleb says, as you ask, "Why are gonna crash any parties?"

"Don't you wanna go out and have fun?" Caleb says. "You can't have fun with it at school. But we could get in trouble at parties, you know, without any blowback, if we weren't looking like us."

"Oh, dude!" Keith exclaims in an awestruck tone.

"We've only got one mask," you protest.

"And two more back at the school, that just need polishing," Caleb says.

Next: "Faces All Around" 

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