The Book of Masks (Vol. 4)

School Survey

Previously: "Night Blooms" 

You are still so rattled and distracted by the night before—memories of Paul's face looming over you in the dark, and of his unsheathed cock sliding into you and prying you open, thrust themselves unbidden upon you—that you hardly have the concentration to teach.

"Okay, people," you announce five minutes after bell has rung, as you've wasted time running back and forth to your office to make yourself coffee. You clap your hands. "Time to improvise!" Groans go up from half the twenty-five students in the class, but Riker and his posse smirk at each other.

You grit your way through the next ninety minutes, not paying much attention or intervening much—not even when Riker and Chloe improvise a scene where George Washington returns from the dead to teach an American History class, only to end up smoking weed with the students and watching TikTok videos of dance-offs with them. You even fob off most of the instruction onto the students by telling them to critique each other. Most of the class, except the really tongue-tied ones, are openly gleeful at the resulting unstructured anarchy, and you can feel your authority slipping away, especially when you overhear Riker (whose resonant baritone carries a lot further than he realizes) speculating with his friends that you got "wasted on mojitos" last night and are hung over. But you don't care, as you just want to get through the day.

It's going to be a long one, too: It's Tuesday, so there's no Beta period, which is Gianna's free period.

You can't slack during Gamma, which is an Intro to Performance class, but you do your best to waste time by putting out the lights and ordering the students (most of them freshmen and sophomores) to lay on their backs on the stage and "center" by clearing their minds: patiently, you order them to be silent when the inevitable giggles and snorts begin. But after ten minutes all sound finally dies away, and after fifteen there are groans when you put on the lights, put them in a circle, and order them to improvise a response to the improvised line of the person before:

"I'm so tired." "What did you do last night?" "Worked a double shift at McDonalds." "I didn't know you worked at McDonalds." "I don't, so I don't know why I was working there last night." "That doesn't make any sense." "You don't make any sense!" "Then why are you talking to me?" ""Because I don't have anything better to do." "God, your life must suck!" "Not as much as"—

"Stop," you order. "You're losing the thread. Try to say something with substance. Emma." Emma Riddle, a tiny sophomore girl with flowing gold hair and an impish smile, perks up. "Very good with the 'I don't work at McDonalds' line."

She plumps at the compliment, and Chris Yates nudges her and whispers something that makes her blush. You pick up with the girl you stopped and have her begin again.

Lunch finally brings some relief. You are starving, for you didn't have breakfast and you didn't have a chance to pack anything before rushing to school, so you get your meal out of a vending machine. But at least you are able relax and clear your head by sitting in the dark in your office, listening to a audio file of thunderstorms over the ocean. Gradually you feel the built-up stress draining away, and those thoughts of Paul (and of Becky, too) become less intrusive, and you are able to spend the last fifteen minutes sketching out some quick and dirty lesson plans.

So you're feeling your feet under you when Phi period starts. It's another "Intro to Performance" class, and you've "Stagecraft I" after that. But now the time seems to fly. It helps that these are two of your best-behaved classes, so that you can relax and have fun with them.

Still, you greet the final bell with relief. And it gives you an unexpected—and almost erotic thrill—when after tidying up the performance room, you return to your office to find Becky Oliver loitering outside.

"Well, hello, Becky!" You push past her to unlock your door. "I didn't expect to see you until tomorrow!"

"I just wanted to talk. My dad texted to say he'd be a little late picking me up, so I've got some time to kill."

You smile to yourself: You'd bet anything that Paul is actually waiting out front in the car, but you don't challenge the girl's story.

Inside, you clear away the papers from your desk and settle down. Becky sits primly in the chair opposite with a queer, lopsided smile. You say nothing, but only cast a meaningful glance at the door. Her smile goes a little more lopsided, and she stretches back to tip it shut.

God, I'd love to lean over the desk and kiss her, you think as she turns back to you. But you keep yourself under control. "How was today?" you ask.

"Starting to feel normal," she says. "Drama is starting."

"Drama?" you echo, puzzled. For naturally your instinct is to think in terms of classes, and there is no "drama" class at Rocky Beach.

"Remember I told you about Hailey Holden? That girl who was so friendly to me the first day?"

You nod, even though you don't have a clue what she's talking about.

"Well, she's decided now that she hates me."

Okay, now you know what he means by "drama." "What happened?"

"She was giving me looks all during first period—Alpha period, I mean." She rolls her eyes. "And when I went over to her table at lunch, she told me I could go sit with 'those guys'." She points into the corner of the room.

"And who were 'those guys'?"

She clucks her tongue. "It doesn't matter. Her point was, I'm not cool enough to eat with them." She tucks back a lock of hair. It hadn't gone stray, so it's just a nervous fidget. "I'm not going to be popular, I can tell."

"Oh, Becky, don't say that!" Her face falls, but you continue. "Being popular doesn't mean being friends with the 'in' crowd."

"I think it does, Will," she declares in a flat tone. The use of your real name startles you. "Do you have any ideas for a new place for me?" Her gaze goes hooded.

And you see it again, a resemblance that has always hovered just inside the edge of recognition: Becky Oliver as Wednesday Addams. No, you muse to yourself. I can see why she would have a hard time being popular. Too moody, too withdrawn, too locked up behind "resting bitch face."

"Well, how about Hailey," you suggest. "Wouldn't that be sweet? Then you could be popular and—"

"Do you have her for a class? No? Then how are we supposed to get to her?"

"Well, maybe later—"

"Maybe later," she agrees. "But what about now?" She looks cramped when you tell her that you'll have to think about it. "Then what were you doing today? I thought—"

"I'll have some ideas for you tomorrow," you interrupt. "I promise."

She gives you a look but takes the hint. It's with relief that you close the door behind her. I've got to get Sydney into a new mask, you tell yourself. Because I hope that's Becky and not her who's being such a sour bitch!

But she gave you a lot of rope before she went. "Don't give me a list of names, Will," she said as she got to her feet. "I won't know them. Just set me up with a new face."

* * * * *

But the trouble isn't that there are too few possible faces. It's that there are too many. But most of them are students about whom you know very little except for their faces.

Take Chloe Crain. She is smart and she is sassy, and she is one of the best improvisers that Gianna has ever taught. She also has a very natural style—there is nothing forced or "cute" in her performances, and she has a good stage presence. All great qualities in a drama student.

But that's all that you know about her. You know nothing of her other classes or her grades. You have suspicions about her relationship with Riker—that he's taking advantage of her in some way. Worst of all, you know nothing about her home life, and you'd have worries about that, too, for she dresses like trailer trash, and in Gianna's experience, the better and funnier the drama student, the worse their home life is. You can't risk sticking Sydney there!

The same in general holds for the other students at Rocky Beach. There are only a few you'd be willing to gamble your own life on, and you're more cautious about gambling with Sydney's.

So you can't help feeling that maybe it would be best to give Sydney an adult alias for the time being. There are a number of choices on the faculty that would be good, starting with Susanna Choi, the band director. But Gianna has friends of her own outside the school. Of course, that would lead you away from Rocky Beach High School, when it had been your plan to infiltrate it. But it might be the easiest kind of switch to set up—and Sydney is sounding desperate to get out of Becky's life.

But another thought occurs as you are crossing campus for your car. The football team is practicing outside, and you feel a shock of recognition as you watch the quarterback, helmet off, coming jogging in to the sidelines, for he is one of the few that Gianna knows anything about. His name is Michael Elles, and his father is an executive at one of the big Hollywood companies.

So there are students you have some knowledge of: just not very many. And some of them, like Michael, would not be candidates for Sydney.

Unless they would be. Just as you took Gianna, maybe Sydney would like a male body in her string?

You put that thought aside for now. If worst came to worst, you could snag a student body for yourself, and use the knowledge it carried to get someone for Sydney.

If she'd be willing to wait two or three more days.

Next: "Theater of One" 

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