The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)

Disguise and Those Guys

Previously: "Garners and Gossip" 

It's the last period of the day—Orchestra—but that class has been a kind of vacation for Danielle for the last week or so. The school orchestra has been practicing the third Brandenburg Concerto so she and the other members of the wind and brass sections have been relegated to the practice rooms, where Dr. Heinz thinks you're all practicing a modern wind quintet.

And you and the other kids have been practicing it. Only, you haven't been spending all of eighth period practicing it, and not all ten of you have been practicing it at the same time.

So after Mary Boucher has taken over the bassoon part from you, you settle back in a far corner with the other musicians on break.

"It's Friday," Alex Sheehan sighs with a lazy grin. In his vintage, floral-print shirt and with his dirty mop of long, curly brown hair he looks like one of the "bad" high school kids from an early-70s sitcom. The kind of kid who'd offer Greg Brady a joint, or try touching Marcia Brady's breasts. "Who's going to the Warehouse?" he asks.

Raymond Koepp, who is slouching on the floor and playing with his shoelaces, snorts and snickers but says nothing. Gabriel Cardona only bends over the screen of his cell phone. But George Basham says, "I might." He doesn't say it loudly, but he's got a honk in his voice—a mellifluous honk, like the horn of the Mercedes he drives—and his words bounce off the back wall of the room. "Who's playing?"

"No one, it's just a dance night," Raymond says.

"You and Haley going?"

Raymond shrugs and says, "What about you and Abby?" George grunts.

You have to wonder if George is serious about maybe going to the Warehouse—the city's most dangerous party spot—of if he's just making noise to sound braver and more cool than he actually is. He's a country-club kid who takes AP classes with other country-club kids and attends music recitals at the university—he was with you on Wednesday, and had a few bitchy things to say about the clarinetist. You've never seen him or his friends with Mansfield or Gardinhire or Kelsey or their group, though. But you're also vaguely aware—thanks to Danielle's brain—that there's some kind of bad blood between George's friends and Geoff's.

These idle reflections are derailed, though, when you catch Alex peering at you sidelong with a hungry expression. "What about you?" he says, and little ropes of spit stretch and snap between his teeth as he asks it. "Could pick you up at nine."

"Probably not," you say. You've no plans, but you'll likely wind up at Catherine Muskov's place, if anywhere.

"Ten?"

"You'll have to fight Jeremiah for her," George says.

Your gullet freezes.

"Who's that?" Alex asks. "Is he on the football team?"

"Soccer team," George says. "Almost as bad. He's, like, six-two, and he could bench-press you."

"So?" Alex's voice turns belligerent, but shrill.

"I'm not going out with Jeremiah," you announce. Your eyes are focused on the floor, and try as you might can't wrench them away to look anyone in the face.

"Has he asked you yet?" George asks.

"No." A cold ripple, like a tongue of ice water, washes down your spine. "What do you mean, 'yet'?"

But George doesn't reply, and no one says anything until Alex nudges your foot. "If you don't wanna go out with him," he says, "it's simple. Tell him you got a boyfriend already." You look up at him. He smirks at you, and scratches the side of his mouth with his fingernail. "I'll be your fake boyfriend."

"I don't need— I'll just tell him 'No'."

For a moment no one says anything. Then George turns to Raymond and starts talking to him about possible camping trips they and their girlfriends might go on, now that the heat will be off the mountains.

And when you can't take Alex's smirks anymore, you pick up your bassoon and cross over to the opposite corner, where you practice the fingering on the quintet.

* * * * *

"He's going to ask you out," Kristin Yetter tells you later that night. You're between parties, at Starbucks, having left Catherine's place with Kristin and her boyfriend and a few other people, but not having found another place to go. "Oh, God." She makes a face. "George told you that—? What exactly did he say?" Her expression scrunches up.

"George told Alex he'd have to fight Jeremiah for me." The acid in your coffee isn't doing your digestion any good. "Then he asked me if Jeremiah had asked me out. Yet."

"Oh. Well, that's what he means." Kristin winces. She has a very mobile, very expressive face. Her eyes can go from pinpricks to headlamps in the bat of an eyelash; her practically-prehensile nose can squinch and scrunch up like an accordion; and with a twist of her mouth she can almost slide her lips all the way over to her ears. (Well, not really. But it seems like she can.) She is using her skills now to express dismay, embarrassment, disgust and annoyance. All at once.

She twists around to squint at her boyfriend, David Scofeld, who has his arm around her shoulders. "You should totally punch out George," she says. "Totally."

He gasps. "I'm not gonna punch out— I don't punch out people." No, you think, you probably don't. You just cold-shoulder them at country club receptions. David is cut from the same bolt of cloth as Geoff Mansfield: a well-coiffed brunette in polos and slacks and loafers, with a watch, a skinny gold necklace about his throat, and probably a couple of hundred dollars on a money clip in his pocket.

Actually, comparing David to Geoff is doing David an injustice. He's cheerful and low-key, and when he opened the car door for you at Catherine's, it was like a friendly, casual gesture instead of something smarmy like if Geoff had done it. No, the worst thing that David Scofeld could do is—

"Well, run him over with your car," Kristin suggests. David flashes you a look of pain.

Benjamin Grove—a tall, reserved violinist in the chamber orchestra—speaks up. "How do you know this guy—? Jeremiah? How do you know he's going to ask Danielle out?"

"He's been talking about it for weeks," Kristin says. "No one—"

"You're friends with him?" Benjamin takes a careful sip from his mug.

"No, we just heard— I think it was from the Garners—"

"Eva and Jessica?" you exclaim.

"Or Marc. Anyway, we heard, like, start of the school year—" Kristin squirms in her seat. "I guess we thought he'd have asked you by now. George shouldn't tease you about it. Though now you know—" The exasperation vanishes from her face, to be replaced by a hooded curiosity shaded with hunger. "You can think about what you'll say."

Prickles run all over your skin. But what do those prickles mean? Horror or excitement? Both, maybe? You don't want any guy sidling up to you and asking you out, and you're glad you had the presence of mind to pick an alias that didn't come with a boyfriend. But it's not only your discomfort you feel, but Danielle's own embarrassment at being pinioned this way. And underneath that you feel an almost violent ambivalence about being asked out by Jeremiah James. The question Why does it have to be him? is slugging it out with At least it would be him and not Sean Sax.

You excuse yourself for the restroom.

Afterward, as you're washing your hands, Kennedy Palmer—another violinist in the chamber orchestra—comes in. "Someone should run over Kristin with a car," she says as she leans in at the sink next to you.

"I started it," you reply.

She hesitates. "I don't mean to pry," she says. "But have you, um ... It seems like guys have a hard time asking you out."

How would you know that? you wonder. Oh, is that what they're talking about out there while I'm in here? "I've had guys ask me out," you say aloud. "I just haven't gone out with any. Except in, like, groups. Like tonight." You shut up before you totally lose your breath, which is coming in gulps.

"Oh," she says. "I guess that's why Jeremiah would be so nervous about asking you."

You don't answer. Back out at the table, you have the impression that your return has caused the conversation to abruptly change course.

* * * * *

You were out partying Friday night because Chelsea texted to say she had nothing to for you, and you don't hear from her until Saturday evening, when she asks you to come up to the school. You pass Gordon's Bug, heading away from the school, as you're driving in.

But Chelsea isn't alone when you get up to the loft. You do a hard double-take, and suck in your breath, when you see who's with her. Chelsea herself claps her hands with delight. "What do you think?" she says.

"What do I think of what?" You're tempted to run away, but that would probably look even worse.

"Him, silly. I did it myself, and it works!"

"Did what?"

Then, when Philip Fairfax turns a dull, docile eye from you to Chelsea, you realize what she must mean. Your jaw drops, and you point at him.

"Are you saying—? Did you do to him—? What we did to Gary?" You feel yourself paling as Chelsea nods. "But how? You didn't have any masks!"

"I made some! I got your guy— The fake you, I mean, Will, to bring me the book, and I sent Gary to pick up supplies. I figured you were busy with your social life. Now we'll get our YouTube video made. Won't we?" she says, turning to Philip.

"Whatever you say," Philip replies. He sounds very agreeable.

"Now we need one for you, so we can stay in touch," Chelsea tells you. "How about Steve Sax? He's on the squad, and he'd be perfect as Danielle's boyfriend!"

* To continue: "The Go-Between" 

*
"Table of Contents (Vol. 3)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)"