The Book of Masks (Vol. 2)

Sunday Is for Scheming

Previously: "Mix and Match and Masks" 

by Masktrix

You leave Shelly, mask still drumming away in the buffing machine, with a promise to come back in the early morning to keep working on things. Saturday evening burns away in the ache of Latin as you read, re-read, triple-read Shelly’s understanding of the spells. You’re certain that the band she’s talking about isn’t actually ‘psychic’; rather, it collects someone’s mind and stores it like a DVD. In fact, you’re beginning to suspect that the mask isn’t creating an illusion over your body, but fully rewriting it temporarily. It’s annoying that you can’t copy the sigils from the photos on your phone, as you think they’re probably the keys to unlock what’s going on.

You’re just heading to bed, mentally drained after the past two days, when you get a message from Keith, mainly to shoot the shit you didn’t get to shoot during lunch yesterday when you walked into the soccer team bust-up. It’s the usual chatter – some kid was off sick in his current issues class and missed a presentation, your mysterious summons to the principal’s office, a new movie out next week that has decided to combine pirates, werewolves and jet fighters in a desperate attempt at relevance. It all feels so banal and mundane when you’ve breathed air from someone else’s lungs. Instead you find yourself daydreaming about the possibilities opened up to you.

On Sunday morning, you head down the creepy lane and turn the handle of the garage side-door, which you guess Shelly has unlocked. You really need to talk to her about that, especially when you find the book wide open on the workbench, just as you’d left it, with another mind band she’s created strewn next to it. If someone had walked in and knew what it was, it could have been a disaster.

As a first task, you take off your own, distinctly non-Harry Potter backpack laid with chemical supplies, open up the book – you should really start calling it the "Libra," which appears to be its name – and get to work on making a mask of your own. Shelly, if your timing is right, is going to be another hour, and you quickly create a mask of an unassuming grey. Walking across to the room, the mask you’ve left on the machine is now a gorgeous, complete blue. You’ve probably saved yourself about 10 hours. So, you scoop it up and put the unpolished mask in its stead.

It's then you’re disturbed by a rap at the door. “Knock knock,” a voice says, as a woman with shoulder-length red hair opens the door. You recognize a strong resemblance to your fellow magic-user, not to mention a nose similar to the one you had yesterday. The woman looks at you in surprise. “You must be Shelly’s friend. You’re a little older than I expected, I thought you’d be in the same class.”

“We are,” you lie. “I'm a junior," you further improvise. "And it's a, um, health class."

“Oh, of course. Well, I didn’t want to intrude on your little project, but I couldn’t help myself. Shelly’s been so excited this past week she hasn’t stopped bouncing around the house, and I wanted to see what’s turning her into a jumping bean. I’m her mom.”

“I'm Will,” you say. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Nolan. Your artwork is amazing.”

Mrs Nolan walks in and looks at her masks, offering the satisfied smile of an artist pleased with her work. “Thank you. I’ve been doing this about, oh, 10 years, since we moved out here from the west coast. The Killer Clown,” she gestures to a mask, “he’s the bestseller. I’ve been trying to teach myself hair punching too, but it’s tedious. It takes a full 80 hours, and I just don’t have the patience.”

“That’s a long time,” you agre, trying not to commit to anything. Mrs Nolan steps further inside, shaking her head at a pile of Shelly’s clothes thrown in the corner – no doubt from when she changed identities earlier – then the buffer, actively polishing the mask.

“Y’know, that tool’s really for metalwork. Whatever you’ve got there is going to break if you keep it on like that. Is it part of Shelly’s secret project?”

“I can’t tell you, it’s a secret project.” For a moment you think about using the polished mask on her, luring her in with a sneak peek at her daughter’s scheme as bait. Instead, you share a brief laugh before Mrs Nolan admits defeat and heads back inside. You’re not sure why the thought crossed your mind.

***

“Ask me how it went!” Shelly says, her exuberance ridiculous on the face of the woman she’s disguised as, dressed in a smart pant suit you assume she stole from her mom and clutching two plastic bags filled with stuff. For all her science skill, she is still the worst actress in the world.

“Tell me you didn’t go around town grinning like that. We might need to use Ruth again.” The combined mask needed some kind of name and, after dismissing Shelly’s suggestions of Tonks and Arya, you settled on a choice after joking about a Random Body Generator – or RBG.

“It was so much fun! First, I went down to her church as planned. I almost didn’t make it because the bus was late and I had to get all the way across town, but anyway! After that it was so freakin’ easy. Coach Acuna stayed after the service to light a candle for her dad in the side annex. I knelt down next to her while she was praying, and boop, on went the band.”

“So how come it’s taken you two hours to get back?” you ask. Shelly, or her adult persona, is well overdue.

“Afterward I thought that I’d better check the band worked. I couldn’t put it on straight away, but to cut a long story short, DOES IT EVER. It’s incredible. I knew Spanish! I knew the candle was for her dad. I knew school secrets, like why Luke Ritter has a note that says he can’t do P.E.! I knew all about her family, and friends, and hopes and fears and even her PIN! It’s like her whole brain was downloaded into mine! And I knew all her sizes, favorite brands, stuff like that. So I thought, like, I had to use this knowledge and went on a shopping spree.” Shelly dumps the contents of her bag. “I managed to get three pairs of earrings, plus two outfits, one for evenings and one casual, identical to clothes she wears. And, of course, cosmetics.”

You look at the haul. Along with the uniform you stole, it’s a Coach Acuna starter kit. “How did you afford this?” You half-expect Shelly to confess to stealing from the tithes.

“I won the middle school summer science Olympiad at Keyserling back in June,” Shelly says, as if it’s obvious. “I hadn’t spent the prize. I was going to get a really cool tarot deck, but this is so much better. Now, let’s see what spell four is!”

You step to the door. “How about you take Ruth off first,” you suggest, “and I’ll go for a walk so you can get changed.”

Shelly is already at the book. “Ferrumen… YES! It’s GOT to be a way to bond the band and a mask, just from the name alone!”

“Shelly. Change back. Before your mom wonders why a strange woman is in her shop.”

“Huh? Oh, right. Can you watch me take the mask off? I don’t want to get stuck again.” You nod, and observe as an unsure Shelly recites the spell and rips the mask from her forehead, falling to the ground before you go kicking leaves up the lane to give her some privacy. As you do so, a jogger with a familiar style of short, tawny hair and eyes a little too close together comes pounding past, only briefly glancing in your direction as she heads for the trail.

***

“Tomorrow, we launch Operation Doppelganger,” Shelly announces, after you’ve spent most of the afternoon decoding the fourth spell. Band and mask combined, you’re now certain you’ve got everything you need to impersonate one Carmen Gabriella Acuna-Montero. There are only two issues. First, there’s the actual Carmen Acuna walking around school. And second, which you’ve entirely forgotten about…

“Ugh,” Shelly rolls her eyes as she digs her phone out of her pocket again. “This is the 12th freakin’ message Ian has left me.”

“He saw you looking like your gym teacher. That kind of thing isn’t something you ignore. I’m surprised he hasn’t turned up on your door.”

“He did,” Shelly says, waving your concern away. “Last night, after you went home. He got a week’s detention for skipping three periods. I said I’d talk to him on Monday. He wasn’t happy.”

“You think?” You’re exasperated. One minute you’re aware this girl is probably one of the smartest in the school. The next, she behaves like an idiot. You’re annoyed at yourself, too, for having forgotten about him. “We need to both talk to Ian about this, before it spirals out of control.”

“Trust me, Ian will be all… Ian about it. I’ll talk to him. You need to focus on Operation Doppelganger, which is going to be amazing. And it turns out you won’t even need to replace the real coach at all. Listen to this…”

Next: "Office Hours" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 2)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 2)"