The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)

She Who Runs the Show

Previously: "Capture the Captain" 

Maybe it's paranoia, but you think you see a flutter beneath Ellie's eyelids just before you set Sydney's mask onto her face. Ellie's Irish-lass looks vanish, replaced by the California beach-blonde face of your girlfriend. Her eyes open, and dart over to meet yours.

For a moment you stare at each other. Then an amused smile creases her face, and the new Sydney sits up.

"Hey, lover," she says as she sits up. "So are we just about ready to—?"

She catches herself with a frown, and looks around and down at herself. She freezes, and for a long moment she says nothing and does nothing. Then she raises a cautious hand to pluck at the front of the t-shirt she's wearing. "Um," she says, and looks around with a pale face. She doesn't look at you, you notice.

There's a rustle from the bed, and the pedisequos slowly gets to her feet. Her expression is very tight as she looks at the girl sprawled atop the bed—a girl who has the same face as hers. "Um," she says again, and her upper lip disappears.

"It is freaky, looking at yourself, isn't it?" you say.

She swallows—a visible flutter at her throat.

"Yeah," she says. "It's even freakier when you know it's—" She swallows again, and a crease shows between her eyebrows. "When you know it's ... her. It is her, isn't it? And you're—"

Her eyes are suddenly puffy.

It gives you a shock to realize that this girl, who only looks and sounds exactly like your girlfriend, must have woken up thinking that she really was Sydney McGlynn, and has only now realized that she's not.

What would it be like to find out, you wonder, to realize in a flash that you are not real, that you are only a copy of someone else, and that your only purpose is to temporarily occupy their space, and that you will be thrown away, like a cheap Xerox, when your usefulness is done?

Funny, you reflect, that I didn't think the same thing when I met up with the fake me yesterday.

The moment doesn't last long, though. While you are still standing there, regarding the fake girl that you and Sydney have created, and as she is staring at the bed, there is a rustle of movement.

"Oh, Jesus," Sydney groans as she sits up on one elbow. "Those things really—"

She freezes at the sight of the doppelganger that is staring back at her. No one says a word.

"I'll give you guys some privacy," you tell them, and pick up all the masks and supplies you can reach. "You probably want to talk to each other. "Oh," you add, "and don't put on Ellie's clothes, um, Sydney." Both girls wrench their eyes from each other to look at you. "I want to do another switch."

You feel like you're walking on razor blades as you go into Sydney's private bathroom, and close the door behind you.

* * * * *

There's only one girl in the bedroom when the voices fall silent and you look back out again."Everything okay?" you ask.

The girl nods. "Just a bit of a shock is all," she says. Her face is drawn, and there's a distant, thoughtful look in her eye. "I sent her downstairs, so that— Well, I sent her downstairs," she lamely concludes. "What's this other switch you want to do?"

"I thought I'd take over for Ellie, and you could take over for Reagan. If that's okay."

"That's fine." Sydney sounds distracted. "Any special reason?"

"No. Except—" Except, now that you think you think of it, you have no reason. "No, I guess I don't have to. Maybe I should just—"

"No, do whatever you want, Will," Sydney says. "Ellie's cute, and if you want to be her instead of Reagan, that's fine."

You shrug and try to demur again, but Sydney shakes her head and pushes you onto the bed. "Let's get it done," she says.

The process is tiring and even a little irritating. You strip and let Sydney pull the mask off you, and when you awake you are groggy and a little out of sorts, and you sit, huddled on the bed for a long time with your bare arms wrapped around your bare knees, as alien memories drip and drain away, like water off a swimmer newly stepped from the sea. It's like your mind is going, even though it is not your mind and they are not your memories. And yet, when you finally stir again, you feel oddly refreshed, as though in stripping Reagan off you can feel yourself as yourself for the first time since maybe you were born.

There's a girl on the bed next to you all this time, but it's Reagan, not Sydney, and she is sleeping a very long time, so that finally you become alarmed at her not waking. But it only takes a brush from you to get her to sit up. Her smile is quizzical as she peers at you. "Hey," she asks, "why haven't you put Ellie's face on yet?"

"I needed to get Reagan clear of my head. Is she coming in for you?"

"I don't know." She yawns. "I feel like I had a good nap, though. Mmm." She grips your arm. "Kiss me?"

"Must be Reagan asking," you say as you bend toward her. "You don't usually ask me that." Her reply is lost as you put your mouth to hers. Her lips open and you feel her tongue pressing at and into your mouth. Your hand goes to her breast, and cradles a fat boob. Wow, you think. I'm kissing a naked girl and I'm naked and this girl isn't supposed to be a girl who even really likes me. Your dick gets really hard.

"Maybe I'm just feeling sassy," Sydney says when you break apart. She sounds very lazy, "but how about you go get changed into Ellie, and we'll go have some fun."

You know what kind of fun you'd like to have, and it wouldn't involve getting out her bed. But Sydney has warned you before about her mother, and how she wouldn't like finding a boy inside her daughter's room, so you clamber to your feet. You listen intently for any kind of sound from Sydney as your cock sticks out like a dowsing rod, but when you sneak a glance back, you see her—Reagan Hackett—laying back in bed with her eyes closed, smiling at the ceiling.

* * * * *

But she's not smiling later, when you emerge from the bathroom in your new form. Ellie feels different from the inside than Reagan did—more muscular—and you have the urge to do a cartwheel and a backflip across the room, as she used to do when she took gymnastics in middle school. You pluck at your t-shirt, and snap the hem of the very tight shorts you pulled onto your shapely hips. You pull your long hair around your shoulder and drape it over a breast. "Hey," you grin at Reagan. "You wanna go downstairs and find Sydney, talk some more about this 'fundraiser'?"

But Reagan Hackett, who is now dressed and frowning into the vanity mirror with her hands on her hips, makes a face at you. "I'm not getting the memories," she says.

"No?" you say. "Well don't force them." You rub her back. She's a big girl, and there's a lot to rub.

"I didn't get your friend Caleb's memories, either. Do you remember that?"

"Vaguely. You know, it freaked me out when you did that, turned yourself into him."

"Well, I can't remember anything that Reagan should know. Where she lives, her family." She pauses. "Volleyball practice."

"Can you name the girls on the team?"

She thinks. "Well, there's you and Reagan and Kayla. Whitney. Kerri Whatshername."

"Mullen. Well, that shows you're getting some of the memories," you assure her.

"No, it doesn't, because I know most of the team already through Reagan." Her frown deepens as she glares at her reflection. "Aren't there some juniors and sophomores on the team?"

"Sure. Libby and Jolene and Aria—" You can't help rolling your eyes at mention of the "Confidence Queen."

"Well, there, you see, I didn't know that," Reagan says. "I can't put any faces to their names, either."

"I know the mask works, Sydney. I was wearing it myself—"

"So why doesn't it work for me? Oh my God!" She pales. "What if they only work for the person who owns the book?"

"We both own it," you generously allow.

"You know what I mean. Books like that can only be owned by one person at a time." You notice that she doesn't explain how she knows that, or why she thinks it.

"The masks work. Maybe you just need to give it some time." You rub her back, up and down, up and down. "Tell you what. Even though it's a school night, I know my parents—Ellie's parents—will let you sleep over at ... her place. That way you don't have to go home and try faking it with Reagan's parents. And if you still can't do Reagan tomorrow, we'll just switch you back before school." You feel very calm as you make this suggestion. It's just so obviously the thing to do!

"You mean let Reagan go free?" Her expression darkens.

"No, I mean we put some of that stuff inside Reagan's mask and put it onto her. So she'll still be a pedisequos, even if it's not one of us inside her."

"I guess that'll work," Reagan allows, and goes back to glaring at her reflection. It's like she's trying to intimidate the reflection to give up the real Reagan's memories.

"Sure. We can do that tomorrow, too, with a third girl. I'm the team captain now, you know," you smugly remind her. "We'll pick someone and get her to come with me and— Oh!"

"What?"

"Coach Schell!"

"Who?"

"You really don't remember anything," you tease her. "Our coach. It'll be perfect," you continue as Reagan looks doubtful, "having Ellie and the coach both!"

Reagan only grunts.

Next: "Catching Coach" 

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