The Book of Masks (Vol. 1)

Three Little Maids Are We

Previously: "Mad About the Girl" 

Once again you go to Second Pickins (after a brief stop at Teresa's, so she can pick up some money), and you handle Caleb and Keith the way Teresa handled you: They take the masks into a changing room, and you bring them outfits to try on.

You don't rely on Teresa, though, for you've got your own ideas now about what will suit them. (And although Teresa did a good job of outfitting you—to the surprise of "Madison," who wouldn't have figured Teresa to know anything about what looks good—you also keep an eye out for items that would suit you as well.) It takes you awhile to pick through the clothes with a close and critical eye, and Caleb and Keith are both groaning with impatience by the time you bring them your choices. And though they blanch and bleat at what you show them, you remind them that they are not spending their own money, and that Teresa is on a tight budget.

It works out well enough: Though they could look better, you do think you picked out some good stuff for them. Both could pass for Hispanic with their creamy tans, so for Keith you pick out a sleeveless, forest-green shift that you match with a brown belt to give "her" figure a little shape, while for Caleb, with "her" more athletic build, you bring navy blue cotton shorts and a deep purple hoodie with an amateurish copy of the Eastman High mascot (a screaming eagle) on the back. Both girls have to make do with cheap sandals for footwear, and they wear their purchases out the door.

And if the clerk notices that two guys came in and didn't leave, and that two girls left without ever first coming in, he doesn't say anything.

From Second Pickins you go to Nirdlingers to pick up undergarments, then make a long side-trip to Walgreens for some cheap makeup.

Then, fully outfitted, and having texted your folks that you'll all be eating out with friends, you drive out to a McDonalds, to make your public debuts as a quartet of high school girls.

* * * * *

"God, I can't believe we're having to split three kids' meals between us," Keith moans as he eyes himself critically in the mirror of the women's washroom. He leans forward to apply a little more mascara to his eyelashes.

It was the first thing you and your friends did on arriving at the restaurant: you took your latest purchases into the restroom so the other two could put on their bras and panties, and so all three of you could apply some makeup to soften your features.

You can only do the most basic touching up, using lighter touch than Madison would even wear to school, but enough to take the edges off the more masculine planes of your face. A little powder covers up the worst of the pores and blemishes that you hadn't even noticed the first time you checked yourself out in the mask, then a little blush to bring some color to your cheekbones, and finally some lip gloss. You still have to wince over your hair, which is too short and too flat atop your head. And your teeth are too big and your eyes still too furtive. Only when you smile do your features knit together pleasingly, into an expression that conveys a kind of sexy, fun-loving glee, and you resolve to grin and coo and gurgle as much as you can get away with in order to keep the look going. The makeup does help a little, though the feminine personality you are wearing isn't sure whether to be pleased or bothered that it makes you look so much older than your years: early to mid twenties, rather than late teens.

"I could eat two Big Macs by myself, I'm so starved," Keith continues to moan.

"That's because you're eating for two," Caleb says. He's gone much lighter on the makeup, and is studying his final look in the mirror.

"What does that mean?" Keith demands.

"Just what it sounds like," Caleb retorts, and starts to close up his stuff.

Keith pales under his tanned features, and palms his stomach with both hands as he frowns down at himself.

"Oh, don't be such a snackpie," you chide him as you turn your head from side to side, to see if you're finally satisfied with the effect you've achieved. "He just means you're eating for yourself and for ... this girl. What is your name going to be, anyway?"

"Huh?" Keith blinks at you.

"Huh?" you mimic cruelly. "Okay, I guess we'll all go out there and call you 'Keith' in front of the whole restaurant staff. 'Keith.' 'My dude.' 'Man.' Tch! I mean, the fuck do you want us to call you when we're out in public like this?" You straighten out the lines of your white-and-black striped shirt. "Caleb is 'Maria', remember, and I've decided I'm going to be 'Mickey'."

"Where are you getting that from?" Caleb—Maria—demands.

"From 'Michelle.' That's Madison's middle name, and when she was little her parents called her 'Mickey.' On account of she was a little tomboy." Until she pitched a fit and demanded they stop it.

"Well, alright," Maria says. "Keith, you can be 'Linda'."

"How come? That's, like—"

"'Cos you fucked up Lin's face when you merged it with yours! Or, I dunno, you can come up with your own."

"No, her name is Linda," you insist. "It just makes sense. Oh, for fuck's sake, here!"

You grab Keith—Linda—by the shoulders and haul around to face you, then snatch the mascara from her hand. "Hold still," you order, and begin to delicately apply a little more to her lashes. They are short and stubby, and you can't do much with them, but at least she looks like she's got lashes by the time you get done.

"There. Now, if you want a Big Mac instead of half a kids' burger and some fries, you can drive home and get some of your own money, and freak your dad out when you go in looking like this. So come on." You grab up your stuff from off the sink. "Let's get back out there before Teresa starts wondering what's happened to us."

Teresa already has your orders spread out at a four-top Formica table in the middle of the restaurant, and she doesn't really react when your trio comes sauntering out to join her. You all settle around the table and snatch at the pile of fries and the small hamburgers that Teresa has already sliced in half.

"You know," you observe as you glance around the restaurant, which is doing a good if not heavy business, "everybody from school comes in here." You munch on some fries. "I bet if we hang out here long enough, some people we know will come in."

"God, I don't want them to see us like this," Linda gasps.

"It's not like they'll know it's you, you dumb bitch," Maria says.

To which you add, "Except they will if you don't stop acting like a lame-ass doofus who's scared he's get caught out cross-dressing. Come on, man," you continue as Linda stares, "didn't you put on one of those doohickies? I know you did, I saw you, so I know you're supposed to be acting like Avery Ayala, if it's doing its thing. So stop embarrassing us, and start getting into some kind of character," you finish with a growl.

Linda stares at you with a hanging mouth. Then she shuts her eyes and furrows her brow. For a moment she tenses, then slowly relaxes. There's still worry in her eyes when she opens them again, but it's as if the shadow of another personality has settled over her.

She is still anxious and a little frightened, though. "I just don't want any guys showing up," she says.

"I do," you reply, and look around again. "I hope it's guys from school we know, too. I wanna see if we can get to talking with them, make an impression. Get them to tell us about some parties happening this weekend, invite us out to them."

"God, you are so into this," Linda says with a kind of awestruck horror.

"That's 'cos Mickey's got the right idea," Maria says. "Oh, that's her name, by the way," she tells Teresa. "She's Mickey, I'm Maria, the other one is Linda."

"How do you do?" Teresa says with wry irony. "I was wondering who you all were when you just plopped yourselves down here."

You grin at her.

* * * * *

Alas, even though you hang out at the restaurant for an hour, no one you know shows up, and even when you drive around, poking your noses into various coffee shops, you don't find anyone. The evening winds up being a bust.

Except, of course, for the fun of gossiping and giggling girlishly as you make the rounds. By the end, you feel like you've grown to know the new personas for your friends: Maria is the smart-mouthed cynic who talks with a lazy boredom and needles you and Linda. Linda is shy and twitchy and seems ill-at-ease with her looks, and is easily flustered—a lot like the real Avery Ayala. You're not sure exactly how you come across to the others, but in your own mind you're the alpha queen, the one who comes up with all the ideas and shoves the others into going along. You're also the last to conclude (with vast reluctance) that the night has come to an end.

And Teresa?

She is very quiet and simply goes along with everyone, and though she doesn't look distracted or bored or even particularly awkward, you are pretty sure she's not having much fun.

Maybe you should do something about that.

It would be easy, you figure. Just make her a new persona. Caleb can give you the metal doohickey he made (he forgot to bring it to give it to Teresa), and you can get it onto a girl at school.

And there won't be an issue with getting caught: Not if you take the mask of "Mickey" to school tomorrow, and change into it during seventh period.

Next: "Making a Fourth Maskateer" 

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