The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)

Gym-Jamboree

Previously: "Best-Laid Plans, If You Do Say So Yourself" 

Gordon has told Number Three that he's going to dump Chelsea and start going with Kendra. Don't think like Chelsea, you remind yourself. Think like the boss. Think like Number One. What's the best play to make?

It would be a huge blow to Chelsea Cooper if she got dumped from the cheerleader squad and also lost Gordon Black, the captain of the basketball team, as her boyfriend. But Chelsea can always bounce back. And wouldn't the bounce be all the better, the ultimate victory all the sweeter, if she first got knocked down hard? Gordon and Kendra will be cogs in your machine before long, so it will be easy to arrange a reversal. You can afford to have some fun in the meantime.

"Thanks for the quick report," you tell Number Three. "I'll have to think about what to do, but it's nothing we can't handle. I'll see you tomorrow. In character." Number Three makes a noise that sounds like a snicker, and the line goes dead.

You put the phone under your pillow, then turn onto your back to stare at the ceiling. Hours pass, and you lay there, motionlessly, in the same posture, only occasionally blinking. Sleep never comes, but neither does thought. It's like you're waiting for a signal. But it never comes, unless the alarm that goes off at five-thirty is it. You reach under the pillow to turn off the alarm, then throw off the covers and stride into the bathroom for a quick shower. Then you change into workout clothes to do some stretches. Then it's down into the exercise room, where you prop your phone on the exercise bike and do a couple of miles. Then it's upstairs to take another, longer, sudsier shower and wash your hair. Out of the bath you scrub your face down hard, deodorize and powder yourself all over, use the tweezers on some bothersome hairs in your eyebrows, nose, and upper lip, and put on makeup. Then you blow-dry your hair.

It's a little after seven when you dress, in short, lemon-yellow panties; a pale, plaid wrap-around skirt that rides more than midway up your thigh; a midriff-exposing halter top; and a sloppy, long-sleeve, knitted sweater that you leave unbuttoned up the front. Your hair you brush into shape, then shake it all out again and touch up with some gel to give it a tousled, "I just rolled out of bed but don't I still look awesome" kind of vibe. Indeed, your whole look, down to the ratty black Converse sneakers and lack of socks, is calculated to make it appear like you fell out of bed ten minutes before class and rushed off to school only after brushing your teeth.

The house is alive with noise by this point, and you feel your own expression come alive as you throw your book bag onto your shoulder and wheel toward the bedroom door. Jordan, shirtless and with the start of a beer belly hanging over the top of his pajama bottoms, is standing at the head of the stairs, stupidly gazing down at his cell phone. You elbow him hard in the side as you head down. You've got things to do today, and you will run over anyone who gets in the way.

* * * * *

The boys are just trooping off toward the changing room when you come marching into the gym. You hesitate, then swerve over to cut off Gordon and Steve before they can disappear. You glare up at your boyfriend. "You didn't pick me up this morning," you snarl at him.

His expression is stony. "You didn't ask me to."

"God damn it, Gordon!" You only just stop yourself from stomping on his foot. "I was waiting outside at six-thirty and for twenty minutes before I realized you weren't coming by!"

Steve jumps in. "You could've texted him, Chels."

"You stay out of this! Gordon, do you ever think about how freaking thoughtless—"

"He spent the night up here, Chels," Steve interrupts.

"What?" You gape at Steve, then turn on Gordon with renewed fury, and jab him in the stomach with a sharp finger. "The fuck, Gordon? You know you can't keep doing that! One of these days the administration or somebody is going to— And what are you fucking looking at?" you scream at Jeremy Richards, who is loitering nearby and openly listening in. Steve glances over and growls, "Get your ass changed, Richards."

"We'll talk about it at lunch," Gordon rumbles at you, and turns to leave.

"No, we'll talk about it now! Gordon! If we don't talk about it now, don't bother trying to talk to me at lunch! Fuck you, Steve!" you scream at the smirking Patterson.

"Yeah, fuck me, Chels," he gloats. "You just keep screaming at Gordon, see how well it works." He turns to follow Gordon, and if you had something heavy in your hand, you'd probably throw it at the back of his head. With a gasp of fury, you turn and charge off toward the girls' changing room.

You've torn off all your school clothes and are halfway into workout clothes when the other girls start filtering in. You shoot them all a slit-eyed glare, one by one, as they come trooping in, laughing; and all of them falter under your murderous glance. All talk dies out as the others change under your wrathful gaze, but you say nothing from behind crossed arms, and don't even glance at them as, in ones and twos, they push past you toward the door. But the last of them you stop with a finger to the chest: Michelle Estrich.

Michelle is a new girl at Westside, from out of town, and her presence on the cheerleading squad is something of an embarrassment to everyone. All the other girls are either "Team Cindy" or "Team Chelsea," but Michelle stands stubbornly aloof. It's her own fault, of course. Chelsea chose her for the squad during tryouts, and from Michelle she got the final vote she needed to claim the captaincy of the squad. And Chelsea even tried to be friendly with her, inviting her out with Steve and Gordon for a late-night private party in the gym, and setting her up for a romantic evening with Steve. But Michelle got all stiff and awkward about it and backed out, so Chelsea dropped her as more trouble than she was worth. And yet Michelle never bonded with Cindy's gang either. In fact, she doesn't seem to have any friends at all.

Your anger at Gordon has cooled and then cooled some more, so that you now feel like there's a block of ice where your heart should be, and it's in a very cold voice that you speak to Michelle. "I hear you're quitting the squad."

Michelle, who isn't very pretty but at least has regular features, gets kind of a parched look. "Where'd you hear that from?"

"Kendra and Gloria."

A spot of color shows in her forehead. "Kendra and Gloria told me that you wanted me to quit the squad."

You smile mirthlessly. "That's what I said. You're quitting the squad."

Now that spot turns white. "I'm not quitting," she says, and tries to brush past you, but you stop her again.

"You're quitting because you're not good enough, Michelle, and I've already got a replacement lined up. Coach Tesla already knows all about it. In fact, she thinks that you've already quit."

"Well, then I'll go tell her I'm not, and she—"

"You don't want to fight me on this, Michelle. You wouldn't want to, even if it wasn't Jack Li who's joining the squad."

She looks puzzled. "What does that have to do with—?"

"We're adding a guy to the squad, that's what it has to do with. We need diversity, and Jack's got stuff he can teach us. Also, he's gay." You plump your lips into a smirk. "You wouldn't want to get a reputation for being homophobic, would you, Michelle, by keeping Jack off the squad?"

A flush rushes up her neck and into her cheeks. "That doesn't—! Why don't you quit, if someone has to quit in order for—?"

"Michelle, Michelle!" You sigh. "You don't get it. Nobody likes you. Nobody wants you. Nobody would take your side or even listen to you. I can make it very rough for you, you know, if you don't go along with me. Or—"

You cock your head. "You could be the hero. We can't have eleven people on the squad. It's a stupid school rule, but there it is, someone has to jump out of the boat so Jack can climb in. And you could be that noble girl who sacrifices herself for the sake of diversity!" You give her a patient smile. "It's win-win for everyone!" Then you let the smile fade. "Or it's lose-lose if you don't. But I'd make sure you'd be a far bigger loser than the rest of us, if you don't—"

"Alright!" Michelle looks like she's about to burst into tears. "I'll get out of your way! But just let me go, I don't want—!"

She starts to run off, but you grab her by the wrist. "Michelle! Don't go away mad! I told you, I promise, I'll make you the hero for doing this, you'll—"

"I don't want anything from you!" She jerks away and runs for the door.

"You're going to get it anyway, Michelle!" you holler after her, even after she's gone. "You'll see! This'll turn things around for you! People will love you for being so noble!"

But she's gone, and there's no one in the empty locker room to hear as you giggle to yourself.

But you will make it up to her, you promise yourself. You will make sure the whole school knows how noble and progressive it was of Michelle to sacrifice her own position on the cheerleading squad so Jack could get on. The whole school will know how much you—Chelsea Cooper, captain of the squad—are in awe of Michelle and her sacrifice. You will have done her a good turn, in fact, since she needs the talking up.

When you think about it that way, it actually makes you kind of a philanthropist!

Next: "Rumors Plus" 

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