The Book of Masks (Vol. 1)

Three Perfect Scores

Previously: "Keith Does It Again" 

Going off by yourself is dangerous and dumb, you decide. We should work in pairs, you tell yourself. It'll be safer that way.

You try your best to ignore the sharp, sneering little voice in the back of your head that tells you you're being a chickenshit, and run after Caleb.

"Yeah, let's go together," you tell him. "One of us can be a lookout." He casts you a look of thinly veiled disgust, but says nothing.

"Where are we going?" you ask after passing the cafeteria, for Caleb is walking with a very determined stride. "The parking lot? Athletic fields?" That's where Keith caught Stephanie and Jenny.

"Theater wing."

"Theater wing?" you echo.

"That's what I said." When you don't query further, he adds, "We might be able to catch someone backstage."

Makes as much sense as anything else, you reason.

* * * * *

The theater wing is right next to the gym, where asshole basketball players and others will be gathering for post-class practice, but Caleb confidently crosses the quad with you trotting alongside. Directly inside is a long but shallow lobby, and another set of double doors. Caleb pulls these open as well, and leads you in.

They open onto the back of an auditorium that slopes gently down to a stage. The lights are up but dim, so you have no trouble making things out. There's some business going on onstage—lots of students milling about and talking. A few them you recognize, vaguely, but Charles Hartlein—a snide and very out-of-the-closet senior whom you quietly detest—is the only one you can put a name to.

"Hmm, doesn't look like he's here," Caleb mutters.

"Who's not here?" you ask. Caleb doesn't answer, but nudges you and points.

At the back of the auditorium, sitting and facing the stage so that her profile is toward you, is a girl. She's a very beautiful girl, with a mane of long, thick, soft black hair draping her head and shoulders. She has a pert nose and large, dark eyes. Her expression is both intent and strangely empty.

You recognize her instantly, of course. She's Maria Vasquez, and she's a cheerleader.

Caleb slips into the very back row of the auditorium and starts walking toward her, but she doesn't react. It takes you a moment to realize what he's up to, and by that time he is dropping his pack into a seat almost directly behind Maria. Still she doesn't react, even when he starts unzipping the bag, being utterly absorbed in something down on stage. You glance over to see what she is looking at—

And when you look back she has fallen to one side with her head hanging at a weird and uncomfortable angle. Caleb is straightening up behind her.

Oh my God, you mutter to yourself, and hurry forward. But Caleb stops you with a warning glare.

Oh Jesus, oh fuck, oh shit, you frantically mutter under your breath. You can't help glancing between Caleb and Maria on the one hand, and the stage down below, whipping your head back and forth. Will someone down there look up and notice something? Will they come up to investigate? Will they find Maria unconscious, and try to revive her, or call the paramedics? There are so many ways this could go wrong!

But when it does go wrong, it goes wrong in a totally unexpected way.

* * * * *

It doesn't take long for Caleb to get totally exasperated with you, and start signaling that you should go looking for someone backstage. You only grimace back, because it's one thing to pop a mask onto someone sitting all alone in the back of an auditorium, and another to try sneaking backstage when there's a dozen people on the brightly lit stage. But at last you give in, drop your bag into a seat, and take your own mask out.

You are just girding yourself for the job ahead when the door behind you opens, and someone charges in.

Your heart flips over in your chest when you see who it is.

Chelsea Cooper is the head cheerleader, and she is right out of a Hollywood teenage comedy's idea of what a cheerleader should be: Small but bosomy, with strong legs, wide hips, a tight tummy, and a great mane of blonde hair that tumbles about her shoulders in loose curls. She has a button nose, a soft mouth, and dreamy eyes that curl up adorably when she smiles. She knows how to work these assets, too, on a gym floor or in a classroom, and every step she takes has the tiniest extra bounce in it, like she is only one squeal of enthusiasm away from launching herself into a gymnastics routine, flipping feet over head and twirling her skirt up around her ears.

She also has a reputation for being the meanest, cattiest, nastiest, and snottiest girl in school, and she's got a psychotic basketball player for a boyfriend. People who get crossways with her have a habit of transferring to other schools.

So your eyes nearly pop with horror when she brushes past you, making straight for Maria.

Caleb also does a double take at her, then looks over at you in horror. You can only think, How fucking fast will Chelsea have us killed when she finds out what we did to her friend?

You have no memory of making a plan, or even of having a thought. It's instinct, not cunning, that catches you up and hurries you forward in Chelsea's wake, the mask in your outstretched hand as you reach for her ...

* * * * *

"Dudes," Tilley says as he struts into the old school basement an hour later. "You are soooo lucky you texted me when you did!" He puts his fists over his head and does a little spin. "You won't be-fucking-lieve who I got on my way out of school!"

You and Caleb exchange mischievous glances. "Who?" you ask.

"Oh, no one. Just Lin. Fucking. Pol."

He raises a single finger tip to the ceiling and looks very smug.

"So," he continues, after gloating silently for a moment or two, "after you two all get done drying your slobber off my knob, we can talk about—"

"Maria Vasquez," Caleb says.

The name catches Keith off guard. "What?"

"Maria Vasquez," Caleb repeats. "I got Maria Vasquez."

Keith's face falls. "No fucking way," he sputters. "You're shitting me!"

"Nope, I got Maria. In the school theater. Where'd you get Lin?"

"In the parking l— No fucking way!" Keith reddens. "You're full of shit!"

"Keith," you say.

"What?" He briefly glares at you before going back to glowering at Caleb.

"Chelsea Cooper."

"What about—?" He does a double take at you, then flushes even more deeply. "What about Chelsea Cooper?" he growls.

"I got Chelsea Cooper." You don't fight to keep the smug look off your own face.

Keith now turns almost purple. He extends both middle fingers at you and Caleb, and shoves them into your faces. "No! Fucking! Way!"

* * * * *

He might have believed you if you and Caleb hadn't high-fived each other. After you did that, he was sure you were just lying. Not even when you show him your masks, and the distorted images contained within them, does he believe that they were Chelsea and Maria. "So how the fuck are we supposed to prove it?" Caleb finally demands in exasperation.

"I 'unno," Keith sullenly replies. "That's your problem."

"The only way to prove it," Caleb barks, "is to seal them up like this and put them on."

"Yeah," Keith sneers. "Wouldn't that be a shame? Turnin' yourself into a copy of Maria and Chelsea." He snickers. "Which you can't do, onna'count of you didn't get no copies of Maria and Chelsea."

Caleb glowers.

"He's got a point," you tell him. "And, um, why would we want to mess up what we've got? I mean." You've been holding the unsealed mask of Chelsea in your sweaty hands all this time. "I mean, what if it turns them into ... guys? I'd rather play with Chelsea's boobs!"

"We're doing an experiment," Caleb says, though he doesn't sound quite so sure of himself anymore. "We were going to mix, um, our faces ... male faces ... into these to see if the resulting, um, forms were ... female or male."

"Yeah," you reply. "But lookit what we got." You look to Keith for support.

His mask is resting on the table in front of him, and he taps it with forefinger.

"Fuckin' yeah," he says. "I ain't fucking this shit up. I want me some China girl fun bags t'play with!"

* * * * *

If only he hadn't said that. You are instantly revolted, and regret being on the same side of the question as him.

And yet, you don't want to give up the chance of putting on a mask, looking in the mirror, and seeing a naked Chelsea Cooper grinning flirtatiously back at you.

And yet and yet ... You don't much like the idea of Keith putting on a mask, and looking into the same mirror and smirking back at you with Lin's face. He's been so smug about getting copies of Stephanie and Jenny. He'll be insufferable now, with an unaltered mask of Lin.

Next: "Guys Into Dolls" 

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