The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)

A Date That Wasn't

Previously: "Masked Desire" 

Your head whirls: Joseph (or whatever he's calling himself) basically kissed you!

But actually it's more serious than that: Teresa tried to kiss you!

"I didn't know we were role-playing," you stammer.

He shoots you a hooded, sidelong glance.

"Well, what are we dressed up like this for if we're not roleplaying?" he says.

You swallow.

"Okay, well, let's just not roleplay that kind of thing!"

There's a long silence, and not until the truck is again in motion again does Teresa say, "So, maybe we could roleplay it like that happened, and you roleplay what you do next?"

You grimace to yourself. If you do that—if you play it like the girl in your head would play it—there's a good chance you'd wind up making out with him.

"Sure," you reply, for you don't want to sound like a spoilsport even though you're determined not to roleplay it like "Mickey." "But we're not on a date or anything," you quickly add, "so none of that stuff, okay?"

"Well, maybe I want to try some of that stuff with you," he says.

You're about to make a retort, but you catch yourself. Is that Joseph's "personality" talking, or is it Teresa? Or is it maybe both? If it is her, you don't want to hurt her feelings, but you don't want to encourage her, either.

You finally compromise with, "Let's just play it like we're friends, okay?" That earns you another veiled, sidelong glance.

* * * * *


The trip to the store is uneventful. The list of stuff you have to get includes shampoo, soap, shaving cream, and disposable razors; toothpaste and a new toothbrush; and deodorant. Though it's your mom's credit card, Joseph insists on handling the payment at the checkout.

He loiters close to you the whole time you're in the store—so close you can feel the heat off his body, and the scent off his skin. It leaves you prickling all over, though you now got a firmer hold of your emotions so that you aren't as addled as you were in the truck. You twist away when he runs light fingertips down between your shoulder blades.

After leaving the store, you drive out to The Flying Saucer, where you each get a coffee, with him paying. After you're settled at a table—seated across from each other; you made sure of that—habits are strong enough that you each take out your phone. He mutters something under his breath as he thumbs away at his phone, then wryly remarks that he "tried the wrong password."

"So?" you ask.

"I was trying Cody's password." He looks at you from under his brows. "Don't you get mixed up, try using Madison's?"

"I'm just looking for videos."

"Huh." He sucks in a lip. "You could get into her social accounts, you know."

"Why would I?"

"I dunno. I would, maybe. I could get into Cody's."

You find yourself intrigued.

"What's he like? Him and his brother? You know, his brother tried playing tongue tag with me. Is Cody the same way?"

"Both of 'em are. They don't got boundaries."

You hesitate, then dare to ask the obvious. "How far have they gotten? I mean, with ... girls."

His face tightens. "You really want to ask that?"

You blush furiously all over. "I'm just trying to make girl talk," you hiss back.

"He's touched a girl's clit," he says. "With his fingertips. His brother's gotten blow jobs. He says."

You lower your head and stare without seeing at the screen of your phone.

"This is too much, like, an invasion of privacy," Teresa says after a long and tense silence. He puts his phone down.

"You didn't log into his social media, did you?"

"No, I mean ... having Cody's memories and things." His look of anxiety deepens.

"You were going around yesterday with my friend Jenny's memories."

"That was different. She's—"

He tenses all over, then slumps.

"I'm just suddenly freaked out," he says.

"Well, I guess we can go," you say, even though your coffee is almost untouched.

"Yeah, I think I want to. This isn't as much fun as I thought it would be."

You can't help wondering: Is that because I wouldn't let you make out with me?

* * * * *

It's a silent drive back to the elementary school, and it feels like you're tucking your tail between your legs as you make it. Back in the basement, you and Teresa huddle in separate little cubbyholes to take off your clothes and masks and other gear, and to re-dress as yourselves. The drive back to her house is almost as quiet, until you apologize to her for "screwing up the afternoon."

"You didn't screw anything up, Will," she says. "It just got weird."

"Is it 'cos you were being a boy?"

"I guess. Or— I don't know." She shifts restlessly in her seat, then blurts out, "I only did it because I thought I'd fit in better!"

"What do you mean?"

Her lips press together and she stares out at the street without answering. Then, after an awkward silence, she says, "Just forget I said anything."

But you can't, and after dropping her off, you decide she must have meant that she thought she'd fit in better with you and Caleb and Keith—three senior-class guys—if she could dress out a boy, one who was closer to you three in age. It makes you feel guilty, because it's undoubtedly true that she's an odd addition to your trio, and she probably feels that oddity even worse than you and your friends do.

You have no idea what to say or do that would make her feel better—and you're not even sure you really want to—but when Caleb texts you late that afternoon to ask if you're done with your jobs for your parents, you specially text Teresa to say that you'll pick her up in a bit for the "club meeting" that's been planned.

* * * * *

"Huh," Caleb grunts as he holds the mask up to the light, and turns it this way and that. "So I guess now it's like a full-on disguise."

He wanted to meet in order to go over the next spell in the book. He made short work of it, too, because all the ingredients were on hand and it was the work of only a few minutes to mix them all together. The result was a kind of glue that wasn't sticky to the touch, but which firmly anchored a metal band to the inner surface of a mask when applied to them. The band itself almost fades to invisibility, but the name remains, seeming to float just over the surface of the mask.

"Madison Michelle Crawford" it says, for you tried it out with your gear, gluing into the mask of "Michelle 'Mickey' Martin." When you take it and try it on, you awake to find yourself transformed—inside your own clothes, for you didn't change out—into your female alter ego, both physically and mentally, all in one swoop.

"Convenient," Caleb observes after questioning you. "Cuts down on the transmogrification time. Although," he adds as he glances over the conference table, which is littered with the other masks and metal bands, "it also means we can't mix-and-match faces and personalities. If we do the same thing to the others."

"Did you want to switch them around?" you ask.

"I'm just saying."

Keith has been mostly quiet all this time—as has Teresa—but now he frowns as he fingers a metal band.

"Hey," he says, "so what if we got a mask of the girl that goes with this thing-a-ma-jing, and put them togeth—"

"Don't worry about it, Tilley," Caleb snaps as he snatches the strip from Keith. "Let's worry about the next spell. While we're all here and don't have, like, family obligations getting in the way."

Keith frowns at him, then looks at you. You shrug, and turn your attention back to Caleb, who orders all of you to take out your cell phones to help him translate the ingredients and instructions for the next spell.

* * * * *

It turns out to use all new stuff, put together in a very new and somewhat frightening way. You're not surprised when Caleb calls you later that night to talk about it.

"Yeah," he says, "if we're going to hit a dead end, it's gonna be here. It sucks the way the book won't let you read ahead. If we could skip this one, I think I would."

"We could do it out in the country, like you said."

"Finding a spot," he replies. "That's the issue."

"Just find someplace out in the open."

"But you'd have to get to it. You know, a road."

Then he asks the question that you'd been dreading he would ask: "Why does Teresa think we could do it at that old barn we were at yesterday?"

"She told you," you reply. "Because one of the guys told her no one ever goes out there. Except once a month to clean it up."

"Yeah, but it was the way she said it, Will. She seemed awfully confident." His tone is shrewd and probing.

"Well, if you don't want to do it, we won't do it," you retort. "Or, we do it there in the basement, like Keith says."

"We're not going to put a match to a bunch of rocket fuel in that old basement," Caleb says firmly. "We do it out in the open, or we don't do it at all."

"You know," you say, "it's my book, so maybe it should be my decision."

There's dead silence on the other end for a moment, before Caleb says, "So what do we do, boss?"

It's a tough decision. The spell seems dangerous, and more than a little creepy. Not only do you have to soak a couple of hundred pounds of earth in some volatile fuels and set it on fire, it has to be dirt taken from a graveyard.

And, to your surprise and discomfort, Teresa had been awfully quick to suggest doing at the old barn that the Larsens own.

Next: "Explosions That Fizzle" 

*
"Table of Contents (Vol. 5)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)"