The Book of Masks (Vol. 2)

Gone to Heaven

Previously: "The Punisher" 

Lynch bursts into a shrill laugh, and raises his hands over his head.

"Hey now, back off there, cowboy!" he says. "I'm just jerkin' yer—! Hoo!" He leans back on his heels and grins at you. "I'll say it again. You don't look like no mean-old, Kirkham-fucking, ball-busting bad-ass. But if Gordon vouches for you— Whew!"

You drop your fist and pick up the beer. There's a hard tremble in your chest and limbs, and you struggle not to show the strain you're feeling.

"Prescott's a friend of Johansson's," Gordon says.

"Oh," says Lynch. Then: "Oh!" His eyes narrow. "That mean you're friends with Ioeger and Lamont?"

"I hang out with 'em sometimes," you admit.

Lynch looks at Gordon, who says nothing, then looks back at you. You swallow a mouthful of beer—nasty, cheap stuff that doesn't taste as good as you remember when you had Gordon's tongue and taste buds—and say, "I know you guys have a problem with them, but I don't have a problem with you."

Gordon laughs, and Jason, after a moment's confusion, whinnies along. "Well, ain't that nice!" he exclaims. "You don't got a problem with us! Well, I'm glad of that!"

"So." Gordon fixes you with a direct glance. "I was gonna ask you tonight, but I'll ask you now. How're you getting along with that girl you were telling me and Johansson about? What was her name? Cassie?"

That tremble, which was starting to subside, starts up again. "I haven't seen her yet today."

Lynch hoots. "You got a sweet thing?"

"That's what Prescott's trying to find out," Gordon answers. There's a gleam in his eye that unsettles you.

"Well, if you want my advice," Lynch starts to say, when you burst out with, "She's kind of a chatterbox."

There's an awkward silence. Then Gordon says, "Kind of like you, Lynch."

"Me?"

"Isn't Steve always telling you to shut up?"

"Aw, Stevie can suck my—"

Taunts fly between them. You drink some more of your beer, while wondering what to say about Cassie. While wondering what to do about Cassie.

But after a few minutes, Gordon cuts things short by slamming back the rest of his beer and nudging Lynch. "Come on," he sighs. "I wanna loosen up a little with some weights. Just to get the kinks out, you know. You can hang out here, man," he says to you. "In a day or two, when you're feeling better, you can start working out with us, if you want."

"I got a class this period."

"What class?" Gordon asks, ignoring the look of confusion on Lynch's face.

"It's just a dumb Career Planning class, but—"

"You got that one too, right?" Gordon looks at Jason.

Jason's confusion deepens. "Yeah, but I got it seventh."

"What've you got seventh?" Gordon asks you.

"A study hall."

"Like me and Lynch have now." He slaps Jason in the chest. "Monday, after Prescott's feeling better, skip your seventh and take him up on the deck and show him how the machines work."

Lynch's eyebrows rise almost to his hairline. "Uh ... Sure!" He looks at you with something like fear.

You're too thunderstruck to reply, and just stand stupidly there as Gordon brushes past. He pauses to grab and squeeze your shoulder.

"You got lucky with Kirkham today," he says. "You're gonna have to put on some mass, if you wanna convince him to leave you alone." He releases you. But before he goes out the door, he says, "You can hang out here till the end of the period."

Lynch looks you up and down with an expression that mingles bafflement, wonder, and maybe something a little like respect.

* * * * *

You do hang out in the loft, looking through the old-timey porn stash and surfing the internet on your phone, but you're gone before the bell rings. Gordon and Jason are nowhere to be seen, which is something of a relief. But then it's on to English.

You think it's your imagination when you get some looks on entering the classroom, but when you see the expression on Caleb's face, you know they're for real. He leans over as you drop into your desk and hisses, "I don't wanna get punched out. So am I going to have to stop walking with you?"

"It wasn't my idea!"

"So what was it, an out of body experience? Or maybe it was someone who only looked like you."

Before you can retort, Cassie Harper comes flying into the classroom. She throws herself into the desk in front of you and leans over the back to gaze into your face with a wet and worried look.

"Oh my God, Will, are you okay? I heard you got into fight with David Kirkham! I mean, I'm totally sure it was his fault, I mean it's not like you go around starting fights and all, but did he hurt you? I heard you both got sent to the principal's office, like, what is this, second grade, but it doesn't matter if you got in trouble, did you get hurt?" She shudders. "The things I've heard about him—"

And this is the girl that Gordon has set you up with.

You do like Cassie, probably more than most other girls. Most girls, in your experience, are one of two kinds. Either they are snooty bitches lording it over everyone else, like Kelsey Blankenship or Chelsea Cooper, or they want to be over everyone else and so they act like it; or they are tart-tongued "rebels" who are sour because they can't lord it over everyone and make themselves feel better by making the people around them miserable. Cassie is one of the few of a third kind: normal people who will talk to you if they want to, and won't if they don't, and don't get wound up in the gears over whether they should or shouldn't be talking to you.

The only trouble is that Cassie's always got her wants to talk lever stuck in the "ON" position.

But she is cute, with a pale, creamy complexion with a blast of freckles; slate-blue eyes; and a long red hair. She is small and pert, with a smile that seemingly can't help leaping onto her face every time she looks at you.

You just wish she didn't talk so much.

You let her run on, waiting for her to stop and let you talk, but the pauses at the ends of her sentences are never long enough to let you even open your mouth before she's off again, with tangents, asides, questions, her own answers to her own questions, and then tangents and asides off those answers and questions.

You give her about a minute or two of this, and then—

You vaguely remember Gordon doing some like this, when he was in your mask.

—you sit up and reach out to touch the side of her face with your fingertips.

Her mouth instantly snaps shut, and her eyes go wide.

"I'm okay, Cassie," you tell her. "You seem worried."

She draws a deep breath. "Oh, I'm not worried, Will, I mean I am, but you seem alright—"

You touch her again, and again she catches her breath with a small shudder. "You should see the other guy," you say.

A blush washes over her forehead and nose. "Really?" she squeaks.

"They had to get him an ice pack."

She giggles. "Oh my God!"

You've been holding her gaze all this time, and you hold it still as you brush back a bit of her hair.

"I got hurt," you tell her, and with your free hand you touch one of your bruises, and wince. "But I'll be okay tomorrow."

"I'm so glad, Will! I—"

But she lapses into an open-mouthed silence as you brush her hair back again. Her eyes are shining as she stares into yours.

"Hey, you should turn around now," you tell her as Mrs. Gladstone goes to the front of the room.

Cassie shoots a quick glance over her shoulder, then turns around in her chair. Before fulling settling in, though, she turns to give you one last, wide, twinkling smile.

You look over at Caleb. He covers his face with his hands, and slides down so far in his desk it's like he's trying to sit on his shoulder blades.

* * * * *

Cassie resumes her chattering ways at lunch, which you take with her and Caleb and Keith, but she isn't quite such a motormouth, and actually shuts up when someone else starts to speak, and when she asks questions she listens to the answers. It makes you more curious about hanging out with her, and more optimistic. There's no more talk about Kirkham at lunch, but during Calculus, Carson Ioeger—who you've not seen yet today—leans over as he brushes past, to warn, "Don't get too full of yourself, man."

But even Ioeger's jibe, Cassie's awe, and Gordon's generosity in the loft, are nothing compared to the surprise when you trudge off toward the office after last period, for the first of your two days of detention. You round the corner, and stop in shock when you see your dad standing just inside the office door.

Shit, you think. I am dead. All that kissing up Gordon did when he was playing me, it's all down the toilet. With head low, you shuffle into the office.

Your dad looks around when you enter, but though his expression is grave, he doesn't look pissed. He gestures you up to the front desk, where Mr. Sagansky is standing.

"Will," he says to you, "I was just explaining to your principal that detention would interfere with your after-school job. He's agreed to schedule it around your work. You have to take two days over the next month, but you can pick the days so we can reschedule you for work. Is that okay with you?"

"Er ... sure!" you croak.

"Okay," he says. "We need you today. Do you want your first detention tomorrow, or some other day?"

Now, that's a question. If you reschedule for another day, you'll completely dodge sharing a detention with Kirkham. But would that make you look like a pussy?

Next: "Explosions, And the Lack Thereof" 

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