The Book of Masks (Vol. 1)

Mad About the Girl

Previously: "Personality on Parade" 

You flip the band over to examine the name on the other side: MADISON MICHELLE CRAWFORD, it says.

"Who's this?" you ask Teresa.

"Put it on and you'll find out," she says. She is still pale and hasn't recovered her breath, but she is putting a braver face on things. "Well?" she says when you don't move. "Are we going?"

You shrug and start the truck.

* * * * *

Caleb and Keith are at the old school when you arrive, but neither of them has changed, and both of them look at you and Teresa curiously as you come down the steps into the basement. At first you think they must be silently speculating about what might be going on between you and Teresa, but that fear is dispelled by the looks of eager relief they show when you dangle the metal band at them.

"Someone named 'Madison' for me," you tell them. "And for Keith, Teresa's got ... um ..."

"Avery Ayala," she says. She hands a metal strip to Keith, who in his excitement nearly drops it. "Girl in my first period class." She gives you a sidelong look. "Madison is one of her friends, and she surprised me in the restroom."

There's a moment of awkward silence as everyone looks at everyone else, as though waiting for a starting pistol. Caleb's the one who finally ends it by saying, "Well, do you want to try them out, or don't you?"

* * * * *

When you wake it's like breaching the surface of the ocean after a long and deep dive. Your eyes roll open and you suck in a great lungful of oxygen. Your heart is beating hard, but you lay very still and stare at the dim and dusty ceiling as you wait for—

Well, for what?

I'm going to put the masks on you after you put the other things on, Teresa had suggested as you and your friends looked for spots to stretch out on. To save time. So you should be in your other body now—the one you "Chelsea-fied" with a mask. So that will be a change, in addition to—

You tense all over, and do the mental equivalent of cautiously stretching your limbs, feeling for other changes. The last thing you remember is lying back and laying your palm, which clasped the metal band, onto your forehead. So shouldn't you also have—?

What's that? You suppress a short gasp at what sounded like a voice calling. But you're sure you didn't hear a voice, at least not with your ears. It sounded like it was inside your skull. Does that mean—?

You are suddenly seized with terror, by the conviction that there is someone lying on the table next to you. Why is that scary?

Because she—

And it is definitely a she, you are sure of that for some reason.

—is going to wake up any moment. And when she does, and she looks over at you—

You feel a shriek rising in your chest, and shut your eyes and throw your head from side to side as—

* * * * *

"Oh my God," you gasp as you study yourself in the mirror. You cup your face—this strange face that you have never seen before—between your hands and furrow your brow at your reflection. "I'm—!"

But you're at a loss to finish that sentence.

Both of you are at a loss. You and Madison Crawford both.

There was a long, fraught moment when she woke inside your skull. And it really did feel like something was worming around inside your skull, that someone was trying to unfold herself there, and trying to slip her limbs inside of yours, like she was trying to put you on like a skin suit. And then her mind opened to yours, and it was like a supernova went off inside your head, as the radiance of her thoughts and memories filled yours.

But then the radiance—the intense feeling that I am Madison Crawford and what the hell am I doing here?—had faded, leaving with only the cold and impersonal memories. But you found after a moment's startled introspection that you could "wear" these, and that they also hung together to make a personality. It was a limp personality until you filled it with your own. And then ...

Well, then it was like you were Will Prescott and Madison Crawford, and you could shift from one to the other as easily as shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

You are balancing halfway between them now as you stare at your face. You feel Madison's wonder and shock, which makes it new for you all over again. It's a pretty face, though bonier than you would like. And you grimace at the hair, which is just way too short!

You are jostled hard as Keith elbows his way up to the mirror, and you flash him a quick, dirty look.

Then you stifle a giggle. Oh my God! you think. Poor Avery!

You can guess what "she" thinks by the way Keith boggles at her reflection: The froggy eyes, the donkey teeth. Though you feel Madison's disappointment with a face that isn't nearly as adorable as her own, you look comparatively good next to your friend.

Caleb, on the other hand ...

He's in his mask again, too, but is sitting in a chair and smirking openly at you and Keith as you fight for place in front of the mirror. You give him a dirty look as well.

Then a mood of mischief overwhelms you.

"Oh, Mary!" you gush as you turn toward her. "Oh, wait." You dimple at her. "I forgot. It's 'Maria' now, isn't it!"

She smiles tightly at you, but says nothing.

You sashay over toward her, and it takes you a moment to realize how natural it now feels to walk on wide hips with wobbling bosoms. More than natural, it feels good. You go up on tiptoes, and easily retain your balance as you smirk down at Caleb. "Definitely an improvement for you, I'd say," you tell her.

"Wish I could say the same for you, Madison," she retorts.

"It's good enough." Still on tiptoes you hop lightly from foot to foot, indulging the urge to almost turn a cartwheel. "Only I'm not Madison, am I? I guess I should come up with a—"

Your eye falls onto Teresa, who has retreated into a corner and is studying you with beady eyes, like a badger under a hedge.

Or a wolverine.

You see her now, with Madison Crawford's eyes, and you know who and what she is.

Nerdy, unpopular, anti-social, stiff-necked. Teresa McNeal doesn't try to be fit in, and doesn't even bother to hide the contempt she feels for the other people in her class. No one even bothers to play cruel pranks on her anymore, like they did in middle school, because she just retorts with withering, scornful looks. She's a girl who's too proud to belong.

But that doesn't mean, you'd bet, that she doesn't want to.

Your emotions balance on a knife's edge for just a moment, before falling onto the positive side of the court. You put out your hands and beam at her.

"There she is!" you exclaim. "Oh my God, what are you hiding over here for!" You traipse up, ignoring the way she shrinks back, to seize her by the hands and pull at her. "Oh, come on, Teresa! We're all having fun, you should have some too!"

Though she mulishly resists, you at last pull her onto her feet and drag her over to the circle where Caleb and Keith, frozen and watchful, are waiting.

"Everyone," you coo as you fold your arms around Teresa from behind; she stiffens in your embrace. "You remember Teresa, from school? Teresa?" There is so much sugar in your voice that you almost choke. "You know Mary. And Avery. And me! Oh, this is so cool!" You squeeze her.

"I'm glad you're having fun, Will," she says in a tight, dry voice.

"I totally get why you gave me Madison's thingama-jiggy." You release and move around her, to return to the mirror, where you touch your face and push your bangs around. "Madison's going to be head cheerleader when she's a senior, did you know that, guys? Or when she's a junior, if she can swing it. Can you imagine, being captain of the cheerleading squad two years running?" You smile at your reflection, then force yourself to relax into it, so that it enwreathes your face instead of erupting there. "So, I kind of have Chelsea's face now. And her body." You turn from side to side, marveling again at how sexy your bare legs are. "Now if I had some makeup, and if I could do something the freak with my hair—"

You wheel back onto Teresa, who is listening to you with a pained and tired-seeming smile. "You promised to take us all shopping again, right?" you ask her. When she nods, you add, "Can we do that now?"

"We can't go out dressed like this!" Keith protests.

"You can't!" You bubble with laughter. "But I got my stuff here in the basement. You and Caleb pull your masks off and put your clothes back on. I'll change. And then we'll all head out!" You beam at Teresa. "Okay?"

* * * * *

You all wind up in Keith's car, with him and Caleb up front while you and Teresa cuddle in the back. "Cuddle" isn't the wrong word, either, for you snuggle up right next to her and tuck your arm into hers.

"Listen," you tell her in a low voice, "me and the guys were talking at lunch bout what we could do for you. You know, to show how much we appreciate your helping us out? So, what can we do for you?"

"I don't want anything, Will," she says.

Bullshit, you think. There is something in this that's a turn-on for you.

"Well, I can think of one thing we're going to do," you tell her. "We're going to crash a party this weekend for sure, and you're going to come with us. The only question I got is, do you want us to make you a mask to go in or not?"

"You don't have to do that," she stiffly replies.

Don't have to, she said. Interesting choice of words. Not No, don't do that.

Next: "Three Little Maids Are We" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 1)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 1)"