The Book of Masks (Vol. 4)

When Carly Met Joey

Previously: "The Cheerleader Proxy" 

You swallow hard as you stare, boggle-eyed, at your fingers. This is not my hand, you think. These are not my fingers! You turn your hand over, studying the pearly nails. The skin is soft and smooth and so pale it is almost translucent.

Your heart is in your throat as you sit up in your truck, and there's a warm throbbing between your legs. It's the kind of throbbing that should go with an erection, but—

You bite down hard on your lower lip. When you slide a cautious hand down over the crotch of your cargo shorts, and dig for it, you find that you haven't got a dick down there. Gingerly, you push at the zipper, and gulp. Oh my God, you think, I must have a— You swallow hard. I must have Cindy Vredenburg's—!

You shouldn't be freaking out this hard, you know. This isn't a new thing for you. Hell, only yesterday you were inside a mask, one that also gave you tits and a pussy and the elfin frame of a teenage girl.

But this is different.

There was something very ... coltish ... about Joey's body. With its narrow hips and almost flat chest, and the short, curly bob of hair, having her body wasn't much different from being a twelve-year-old boy again. (But without the cock bobbing like a dowsing rod, of course.)

But this body belongs to Cindy Freaking Vredenburg, who is a cheerleader at your high school, and she's—

The phone dings again with another text, but you ignore it to wrench the rear-view mirror over so you can look at yourself. Cindy stares back at you, her large, round eyes almost popping with fearful astonishment. Your ivory cheeks redden with an excited rash, and your eyebrows nearly elevate to your hairline. You clap your hands over your small, prim mouth and pert nose. Oh my God! you want to shriek, like the girl you now look like.

Center, Will, you tell yourself as you shut your eyes. You can't just sit here freaking out. You've got to meet up with Joey. And that— You nearly topple over as a dizzy spell hits you. That will be all kinds of awesome!

Yes, you decide as you shake yourself loose inside your clothes, and brush back your long, pale hair while giving yourself a sidelong smirk in the mirror, doing something with this body is going to be ten times funner than just sitting here, jerking myself off inside, over having this body!

You shoot Joey back a quick text: Just stay at ur house will be ther soon in new mask u will luv. You ignore her reply (Omg ???) as you crouch back down into the footwell to pull off your shirt and put on the bra you bought. It turns out to be a too large. But who cares. You've got boobs to play with!

* * * * *

You didn't buy any new clothes to go with your new look, so you're in your old clothes—t-shirt, cargo shorts, and ratty sneakers—when you pull into the driveway that fronts Joey's stone-pile of a house. You're even sporting your shapeless white ball cap, pulled down low over your face as you hop out of your truck, so you feel like a sexy tomboy as you saunter up to the front door. You can't help grinning.

You've barely touched the door bell when the massive door swings open. Joey, her eyes and mouth wide with wonder, stares at you, but she says nothing.

"Hey, you must be Joey," you exclaim around your grin. "I'm, uh—" Quick, what's my name? "Carly. I'm a friend of your, uh, friend, Jenny? And Will?" You're too giddy with excitement to kick yourself over not inventing a plausible opening line. "I hear you're going to study with us this afternoon?"

Joey stares at you, what little color is in her face draining down her neck and vanishing beneath the collar of her red-and-black flannel shirt. Her jaw works. Then, over her shoulder, she shouts, "Mom?!"

"You really need to clear this with your mother?" you murmur at her through frozen lips. Joey stares and stares. Then she gives you a single, short nod.

Joey's mom waddles into the cold foyer behind her daughter. "Yes?" she says to you. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs., uh, Tartaglione?" You smile back her. Even though you've none of Cindy's personality to go with her looks, you thrill to feel something like her confidence and poise. Maybe confidence is a glandular thing, you find yourself thinking. "I'm Carly. Carly Simmons." Another improvisation. "I'm a friend of Jenny Ashton's?"

"Oh, yes?"

"Well." You eye Joey, who seems rooted speechlessly to the spot. "Jenny told me that we were all getting together, her and me and Joey, to do some studying in town, and Jenny asked me to pick Joey up on the way over." You cock your head and smile brightly at the pair.

Mrs. Tartaglione turns to give Joey a long and steady look. The color that had flushed from her daughter's face slowly flushes back into it.

"Oh," says Mrs. Tartaglione. "Well. How long were you planning to study for?"

"What time is Joey's dinner?"

"Five-thirty."

Damn. That's hardly an hour from now. "Well," you say, "how about me and Jenny— I mean, how about Jenny and I," you correct yourself, "treat Joey to supper? We'll probably wind up at Panera anyway. That's where the college girls like to study, you know." From the way her expression changes, you can tell you've impressed Mrs. Tartaglione. "And we can have her back here by—?" You give Joey a querying glance.

"Nine?" she says through a clenched jaw.

"I guess that will be fine," Mrs. Tartaglione says. She lightly touches the top of Joey's head with her palm. "What are you going to be studying?"

Joey bolts from the foyer without answering, leaving you to field the rest of the interview. "Math, history, social studies, everything," you tell her. "Oh, and Latin, too. Jenny says that Joey's probably going to be tutoring us."

"Mm. Well." Mrs. Tartaglione hesitates, then asks, in a low, hard voice. "Is it just going to be you three?"

"Yes. Unless our friend Mary can get free." Your heart starts to race. So many improvised lies to keep track of! Maybe I should jot down notes when I get back to my phone.

Mrs. Tartaglione asks you a few more polite but leading questions—what grade are you in; what classes are you taking; how long have you known Jenny—that you brush back with answers that are as close to truthful as you can muster. At last, Joey runs back in with a backpack the size of a small refrigerator bouncing on her shoulders. "Bye Mom I'll see you later," she says as she squeezes out the front door to join you. Her eyes are wet with fear and anxiety. You pat her on the backpack, give her mother a wide, lazy smile, and lead Joey back over to your truck.

"Oh my God!" Joey squeaks after you're inside the cab. "What's your name again?"

"Uh, Carly? I think that's what I said?"

"And you know, uh, Will?"

You give her a look. "Jesus, Joey, it's me. I told you I'd be showing up in the new mask."

Joey hiccups, and slams her hands over her mouth. " "Oh my God!" she gasps. "Will? Where—?"

"Do you like it?"

Her jaw works soundlessly before she's able to squeak out, "Who is she? Is she a friend of yours? Is she—?" She gasps again. "Are we going to meet her? Did you tell her about the—? The—? And the—?"

"Relax, Joey! I didn't tell anyone anything. Her real name's Cindy's, and she's a friend of Jenny's, but she's no friend of mine." You shake your head as you pull out into the street.

Joey's jaw drops. "So how did you—? The mask, how did you, uh—?"

"Well, I jumped her," you confess. "Ambushed her. I was giving her a ride someplace. Fuck," you exclaim, as you remember that Jenny and Cindy and them will be loose somewhere in the city, also getting coffee and studying. "They were going into town, and I volunteered to give Cindy a ride, and while I had her alone I—" You mime pushing a mask into Joey's face.

"Eep!" she says. "Oh my God!"

"What are you freaking out about?" you ask, as though you too hadn't surprised yourself with your boldness. "You said I couldn't come over to your house 'cos I was a guy, so—" You shrug. "I figured I'd show up as a girl instead!"

"But you assaulted that girl!"

"No I didn't! I just copied her is all. What did you want me to do?"

Joey doesn't answer, and the ride passes in silence for a long minute. At last, she shakes herself and looks around. "So where are we going?"

"How about the college library again?" you suggest. "I don't want to run into anyone. Not while I'm looking like this."

"So you just put it on long enough to pick me up?"

"Well—"

"And you could change out of it?"

Yes, you could. Not that you want to. But maybe this is Joey's way of saying that she would like to wear Cindy's mask.

Next: "The Shopping Spree" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 4)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 4)"