This choice: Ask if you can accompany her. • Go Back...Chapter #13Follow the Bouncing Box by: Seuzz   "Mind if I come with you?" you ask this Naomi girl. "There might be some other things I want back. 'Cos my mom went through my stuff without even talking to me about it."
You feel a patch of sweat breaking out on the back of your head. You are so close to getting the mask back.
Naomi gets a pinched look, but through her grimace says that would be okay. "I have some stuff to do at school here first," she says. "Then I'll take you over to Kian's."
"Can you give me the address? That way I don't have to wait for you?"
Again, she gets a pinched look. "It'd just be better if we just go out together," she says. "You don't know Kian, do you?"
You shake your head before it occurs to you to lie.
"I won't be long. I'll meet you out in the parking lot." She turns away with a dismissive sniff.
Your walk across campus to the student parking lot is one of the most agonizing treks you've ever made.
* * * * *
Even worse is the wait. Is that girl trying to stretch things out as long as possible? you wonder as you pace the lot, watching the school for any sign of Naomi. Several times you come close to texting her, to ask where she is and if she's still coming, but manage to keep a grip on your impatience. Once you almost panic at the thought she might have ditched you altogether.
But eventually—twenty minutes later—she comes out, in the company of a few other girls, walking at a stately pace with her chin high, like a galleon under full sail. She sees you but still stops to chat for a minute with her friends. After they separate, Naomi acknowledges you with a curt nod.
"So you can follow me out," she tells you coolly, "but in case we get lost—" She gives you an address. "It's not far."
It might not be far, but she drives it at waddling pace, braking early for each light and contriving to catch a few red lights she might have missed. More than ever you are convinced that she's doing it on purpose.
Eventually you pull up in front of a nice, multi-level house not far from the river, its lawn shaded by some old trees. Naomi waits in her car even after you've bounded out and over to meet her. She's got her phone out and is frowning as she gets out. "Kian's not here," she tells you, and you fight the urge to facepalm. "But he's on his way back and'll be here in a little while."
So there's nothing to do but exchange some small talk. Naomi seems almost aggressively uninterested in you, and her questions are very cursory. But neither are you very interested in her. So after establishing that you both know Eva Garner and Yumi Saito, and that they are a pair of pleasant girls, talk lapses into an awkward silence.
Ten terrible minutes later, a blue sedan finally pulls into the driveway. A tall, good-looking kid with a neatly combed thatch of fluffy brown hair gets out. He's dressed much as you—dark t-shirt under a long-sleeve button-up shirt, and slacks—but his stuff looks ironed. He also has a much more confident gait. But you don't take the same instant dislike to him that you took to Naomi, even though he has the stench of "AP twit" about him. He nods vaguely at you while calling out to Naomi. "Hey, what's up?" he says. "Something go wrong with the collection yesterday?"
Naomi smiles tightly and indicates you. "This is Will," she says. "He says his mom accidentally gave us something she wasn't supposed to, and he wants to get it back."
"Oh, okay." The kid—Kian? The fuck kind of name is that?—nods at you with a slight frown. "What was it?"
"Well, could I look in the box for it?" you ask.
"Sure, I guess." He moves past you, leading you and Naomi up the walk toward the front door. "Was it a shirt or something? Souvenir shirt? Or—"
Naomi answers for you. "It was a mask. A Halloween mask?" she asks you. "You weren't real clear about it."
"No, it was a—"
You're about to describe it, but that's when her friend stops dead on the grass and turns wide eyes on you.
* * * * *
Kian leads you inside the house, and after depositing his backpack on a sofa he leads you down a narrow flight of stairs and into a very wide and very long basement that's been converted into an airy rec room of some sort. There's a pair of couches in the corner, facing a small flat-screen TV, and a dorm refrigerator. But most of the space is taken up with cabinets and work tables.
These are stacked deep with cardboard boxes in various states of unpacking. A mass of shirts and jeans and trousers have been grouped and folded; a long countertop along the wall is stacked deep with canned goods and boxes.
Kian mulls the pile of clothes, then leads you unerringly over to the end of a table, where a small box is sitting open. "Is this yours?" he asks.
You paw through the stuff on top. It all looks familiar. But you wouldn't swear to it being yours, not until Naomi tips one of the flaps back and points to a name scrawled on the side: Prescott. Your own address is also scribbled next to it.
"Yeah, this is it," you say, and dig deeper into the box. You would have expected Robert to hide the mask near the top, but it's not there. And when you reach the bottom without finding it, you paw back through the mass, gripping and feeling at each shirt and pair of shorts for the stiff form of the mask.
But it's not there.
"No luck?" Naomi asks. You shake your head. "What did it look like, again?"
You describe the mask, and can't help noticing that Kian gets very stiff and pale as you talk. He doesn't say anything though, until Naomi says, "Maybe Kyler or Jake found it?"
"Kyler was over here working on it with me," Kian says in a very tight voice. "He, uh—" He shoots you a worried look, and changes the subject. "This mask thing," he says. "It was yours?"
You're not sure you want to answer that question truthfully, but you're not sure what lie to tell. "Well, that's kind of complicated," you say. "I guess it's mine, but—"
"Where did you get it?"
You find yourself grimacing at this kid. "Why do you need to know that?"
"Well, I mean, is it valuable?"
When you hesitate over the answer, Naomi jumps in. "We're going to get it back to you, Will," she says in a very prim tone. "We're not going to steal, like, an antique."
"Well, how do we even know it belongs to this guy,? Kian suddenly interjects. "He comes along and he says that it's his. But he won't tell us anything about it—"
"Did you find something like that?" you blurt out. You don't like being called a thief, even if you don't want to explain what the thing is and where it comes from. "'Cos it sounds like—"
All once, everyone is talking over everyone else, with you trying to explain how your mom accidentally slipped the thing into a pile of clothes that got donated to the charity drive, while Kian is saying he wants proof that it belongs to you, and Naomi is telling both of you guys just calm down.
"Look, you say the thing is yours," Kian finally exclaims, "so I'll take you over to see Kyler, 'cos he's the one who found it. If it was in there," he illogically adds. He stalks off toward the stairs. You glance at Naomi, who looks as confused and as pissed-off as you feel, and you both follow.
But outside, Kian tells Naomi that she can go home—"I can take care of it," he tells her—and tells you to follow him in your truck. You don't drive far, just a few blocks, parking in front of a ranch house in an under-developed corner of the city, across the river from the country club. It sits on about twenty acres of ground that might have once been farmland but which is now fallow and covered over with small growths of underbrush and a few saplings.
A skinny kid with a tall, brushed-back blonde pompadour is standing out front. You recognize him from your second-period film class, though you can't put a name to him. For his part, he gives you a wary look of recognition, but concentrates on Kian The two exchange a few words and some frightened glances. Then you're led around the side of the house to the backyard, where on a little patch of ground of its own squats a long, wooden shed that resembles a repurposed railroad boxcar. Your host bangs on the door, shouts, "Hey, it's me!" then slides the door open.
The three of you step into a dark, closed-up, airless space that smells of dust and old furniture. Light pours in through the doorway; otherwise, the only illumination comes from a small lamp in the corner, where some furniture has been pushed together into something that looks like a makeshift living room.
There's a girl standing there. She turns a frightened face toward you.
You flinch in recognition: It's the girl you hit the with the mask.
You glance over at Kian and his friend. The other is glancing between you and the girl with a worried expression. But Kian is giving you a very hard look, and waiting for you to say something.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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