The Book of Masks (Abridged)

A New You

"WHAT IS IT?" you warily ask.

"You're so full of questions," he laughs. "Shit and questions. How about you tell me who you're going to show the book to?"

"Carson Ioeger," you admit. "Him and James and Paul. Jenny." Caleb's eyes glitter even as they narrow. "What?"

"Yeah, okay, you can borrow it. Those are good guys." He extends the blue object. "But you still have to leave me a deposit."

"What is this 'deposit'?"

His mouth twists. "You were right about the book being magic," he says. "It doesn't like it when strange people handle it. It didn't like me. Not until I used it to make one of these things, and put it on. Then it calmed down."

"Then maybe I don't want to borrow it," you frown.

He shrugs. "Then what will you tell Carson?"

You have a sudden vision of Carson's laughing face, and the laughing faces of the others, and they all merge into the merry, satirical stare Caleb has turned on you. Resentment flares inside you. "Fine!" You grab the thing from Caleb and fumble at it. "What do I do?"

"Lay down so you don't hurt yourself. I said you had to put it on, but that just means laying it on your face. It's like it makes a, um, a kind of impression. That way the book recognizes you. Or something."

You feel your eyebrow twist skeptically, and the feeling that Caleb is peddling a bald lie becomes even stronger. But Caleb's your friend. He wouldn't hurt you, even if things have been kind of strained between you lately ...

You drop to the ground, and with a mild oath jam the thing to your face. "Turn it the other way, doofus," Caleb laughs as you rub your nose. "Like it's a mask."

* * * * *

James gently turns the page with a frown. "It isn't even real Latin," he snorts.

You jab at a word on the new page. "That's Latin, I know that much."

He turns a disgusted eye at you. "Did you take three years with Leavey like I did? No? Then shut up." He pushes your finger off the page. "A lot of the words are Latin, but the sentences are junk. A first-year student with Google Translate could write better than this garbage."

"The pictures are pretty," Jenny says. "They look like something in Arabic or Sanskrit."

"Well, it's still like a grimoire, even if the stuff is all fake," you insist.

"Of course it's fake," Carson hoots. "It's sixteenth century Khalil Gibran. But it's good enough for me." He pulls a handful of bills from his pocket. "There's your five, Prescott," he cheerfully says as he slaps them on the table.

You take the money with a smile: Carson could have always used "fake" as an excuse to avoid paying up, so it's really gracious of him to accept this oddball book as a real grimoire. "And those faces on the front page are really neat," you say.

"Oh yeah." He pulls the book from James. "I wanna make a copy of those." He ambles over to the school Xerox machine before you can stop him.

"Copies!" Jenny suddenly exclaims, then ducks her head at the glare that Mrs. DeWare, the school librarian, has shot at her. "Sorry," she says in a much lower voice as she digs inside her school bag. "I forgot that Paul asked me to get these back to you, Will," she says as she shuffles through a pile of papers. "Also, he says thanks." She hands you two sheets.

You blink down at them. "What are they?" You recognize the handwriting as your own, but can't place the contents. They're lecture notes from History.

"Are those the right ones? It's supposed to be the notes from Fernandez's class that he borrowed from you."

"When did he borrow them?"

"I dunno. Yesterday, I guess," she says. "He said he missed History because he had to go to the nurse's office. Didn't he borrow them from you after school?"

"Definitely not yesterday," you snort. "I wasn't even--"

"Why did he have to go the nurse's?" James interrupts.

"He ran into Tanner." Jenny makes a face. "Tanner's fist, to be precise."

"Jesus!" James says. "If it was bad enough to go to the nurse's, why didn't he say anything to Sagansky about it?"

"Oh, it wasn't that bad," Jenny says. "It was just Tanner, and Paul wanted an excuse to skip. Besides," she adds in a low voice, "if he got Tanner in trouble, it would just mean that Kirkham would come looking for him."

You ignore this all-too-common gossip about bullying, still being wrapped in the oddity of these notes. You don't remember taking them, but then you hardly remember anything from History anyway, even when you are paying attention and taking notes. The oddity is in the supposed timing: You skipped school entirely yesterday. It was a Monday, and Caleb had intercepted you just outside school and talked you into making it the third day of a three-day weekend. You'd wound up in the Suffolk Wilderness Park, outside of town, hiking up and down trails and talking about nothing, and pretending to be studying the flora when any rangers happened by. It had been a fun time, with no talk about the book or magic or anything. You try to remember when you might have loaned notes to Paul, but you can't place when it might have occurred.

The thump of the book as it lands in front of you pulls you out of these puzzled reflections. "Ah, screw it," Carson says. "Maybe you can make me a copy for me later?" You look up at him. "Toner's all fucked up or something in the machine."

You tuck the notes into one of your own textbooks, and would have forgotten them entirely, except there's an odd quasi-sequel in math class, when you get back a quiz. Again, it's an assignment you don't remember doing, and the date at the top is Monday's. But then the lecture resumes, and you're distracted by equations.

* * * * *

Caleb calls you around seven. "You get the book back?"

"Yeah, I got it here. You wanna come by and pick it up?"

"Let's meet at the school. I'll give you the dingus in exchange."

"Can't you just get rid of it? I don't want it, whatever it is."

"You should get rid of it yourself," he says. "It's dangerous. I mean, you can trust me with it, but--"

"What is that thing, anyway? I didn't like the way it knocked me out."

"I told you, that was just a side effect. But come meet me, and I'll tell you all about it."

You sigh. "Supper's in half an hour, and my dad's suddenly interested in us all eating together again."

"You'll be back in plenty of time," he says, and it sounds like there's a giggle in his voice. "You'll see. Hurry up."

Caleb's car is parked by the school when you arrive, so he must have already been out there. There are two more cars there, but you don't recognize them, and assume they are connected to the recreational center that has been established in the cafeteria of the old school. Caleb himself is loitering on the other side of the building, near the outside door that leads into the basement. He grins as you approach. "How was school?"

"You were there with me. You know what it was like."

"Yeah, the Molester was in fine form, wasn't he?" he laughs. "One of these days I'd really like to fuck him up."

"And I wanna fuck Cindy Vredenburg. I guess we both can dream." Caleb claps his hands and howls with delight. You glare--is he drunk?--and hold out the book. "So here you go."

"Hang onto it. I gotta show you something in the basement." His grin is manic as he opens the door. He starts to go down, but stops you with a hand to your chest. "Dude. Don't freak out at what you see. Seriously. Do. Not. Freak. Out." You stare at him, and then follow him slowly down the wooden steps.

The basement is a junk heap of old desks and cabinets and shelves and other office detritus. The light is very dim. But in the gloom you see that the two of you are not alone. There's a third figure. It turns at your footsteps.

You stop and gasp.

It's you.

Will Prescott--or someone who looks just like you--stares back from the middle of the room. He's dressed just like you, too. No, wait, it's a shirt and pants like you own, but it's not the clothes you're currently wearing. All that's missing is the dirty ball cap that you've got pulled low over your brow.

"Brilliant, isn't it," Caleb says, and you jump. "He looks just like you and he acts just like you. We can send him back to your place, and he can have supper for you. Then we can talk."

"The fuck?" You finally find your voice.

"Don't worry, there's nothing bad here," Caleb says. "He has to do what you say, so it's not like he's dangerous. He's just a fake version of you. I made him using the book."

"You ... You made a copy of me?!"

"Yeah, and he's just as dumb as you. I got a copy of me I sometimes send to school when I don't wanna go myself. You didn't notice the difference." He nods his head at your double. "No one will notice the difference with him."

You stagger back. "What the fuck--!"

"I said, don't freak out. I'm not replacing you. Although, you can use him to replace yourself if you want." He opens a drawer in a nearby desk and pulls out another blue mask. "And if you send your double home you can be this guy. I made it for you."

Numbly, you take the proffered mask.