The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)

After the Magic Has Shriveled

Previously: "The Real Rescuers" 

You don't want to talk to anyone who had anything to do with last night's disaster. So you ignore Carson's text; and to Lacie you ask if you can take her up on it some other time, as you've already got lunch and dinner plans for the day.

You drift restlessly through the day. A couple of times you come close to calling Caleb or Keith, to ask if they want to do anything. But that would tempt you into telling them about last night, and then you'd have to explain why you were out trying to have fun without them, and that would be awkward. You end up driving in to town alone, and wind up at the comic book shop.

You're not sure how King Kong Komics manages to stay open, for the shop is always empty. At least, it's empty when you go, which isn't all that often, so maybe you just pick traffic-poor hours. The owner, a fat Korean-American named Eric, is very friendly, and a couple of times he shouts out recommendations (without moving from behind the register) as you drift from shelf to shelf. Maybe he is feeling the pinch of slow sales himself. Or maybe he just doesn't have anyone to talk to, as you have the shop to yourselves.

You have been there for thirty minutes, and are about to leave (with one courtesy purchase) when the bell on the door chimes, and you look over. You don't know whether to smile or wince when you see who has come in.

Christian Knouse may feel similarly ambivalent at the sight of you, for he stops dead just inside the doorway, and fixes you with a very sharp look under a cocked eyebrow. Then he hurries up to you.

"Hey man," he mutters quietly on reaching you. "I didn't know you read. Comic books," he adds a beat later.

You make a face, which you turn into a lopsided smile. "I was bored. I—"

"Dude, get him to buy one of the omnibuses!" Eric yells out with a sweaty smile. Christian glances back at him, then cocks an eyebrow at you again.

"Fuck, man, I can barely afford this." You flap the comic book at him.

"What is it? Huh," he says after you've shown him the cover of the Batman issue you picked up. "Well, if you wanna play it safe." He looks around. "But how about—?"

"You guys coming in to play?" Eric yells out.

"Yeah!" Christian shouts back. "If you'll let us!"

"Dude, I got nothing to do, I'll come sit in if you'll let me!"

"He always does," Christian murmurs to you. "You sure you can't afford to pick up something meatier? I don't think Eric's sold—"

"I spent all my money last night."

"On what?"

"I went out."

"Ooo!" Now both of Christian's eyebrows go up. "Doing what?"

"Nothing, it turned out," you mutter. "But what's Eric gonna sit in on?" you then ask, eager to change the subject.

Christian's here to play another chapter in his and his friends' latest RPG, he explains. Howie Baylor, Darrell Parson, Hugh Flake and his little brother Harrison. Only Braydon Delp will be missing, he growls, on account of he's doing something with his girlfriend instead.

So he asks you to join in, maybe take Braydon's part. His character is a giant with a habit of lapsing into a coma each time they break off a session, so that the rest of the party has to heave him around on their backs if Braydon doesn't show up the next time to revive him. "Long as you're not in the habit of rolling low," Christian says, "it should be an easy thing."

You've got nothing else to do, so you agree.

* * * * *

It would be a relaxed and relaxing party if it weren't for Christian, once it gets started. Howie Baylor is a goofy, frog-eyed nerd with a fixation on following rules, while Hugh and Harrison Flake have the personalities of dumpy, good-natured hobbits. Darrell might be slightly stoned, because he just sits silently with a slack jaw, listening in a daze.

But Christian is all nerves and nervous energy. It goes with his demeanor. He is small, pale, and skinny, with fine, puffy blonde hair, and a narrow nose and chin that are focused by his glasses to give him a foxy look. His mouth is a line and his eyes dart as he oversees the campaign, arguing with Howie (who is DMing the game) over every jot of the rules, and goading the others into backing him.

"The fuck do you mean I gotta roll a saving throw every time I turn a page in this fucking book?" he is demanding when you are only ten minutes into the session, after the party has resumed ransacking an abandoned library.

"It's a grimoire," Howie says.

"It's a fucking book!"

"A magic book. You might get hurt."

"And if I'm going to get hurt each time I turn the page—"

"You might get hurt."

"—I'm not gonna keep turning pages!"

"It's a free country. You don't have to do anything—"

"Do I know I run a chance of hurting myself every time I turn a page?"

"You do now."

"Aha! But I didn't know it when I opened the book!"

"You know it now."

"I know it now that you told me I have to make saving throws! That's not something my character would have known! He wasn't standing there, holding the book, saying, 'Maybe I'll have to make a saving throw—'"

"But he would have known it was a grimoire when he picked it up!" Howie is starting to turn red.

"How? You didn't tell me that until after you told me I had to start making saving throws!" Christian looks around the table with a wild look on his face. "The rules in play when I picked up the book—no mention of saving throws!—should be in force now!"

"But it's obvious it was a grimoire!"

"What would it look like it if it obviously looks like a grimoire?"

All this talk, though, reminds you of that funky book you picked up at Arnholms', and you tell the table that you've got something at home that "looks" like it could be a grimoire. But that only causes Christian to snap, "There's no such thing as grimoires, so it can't 'look' like a grimoire." And that starts another argument, with Howie retorting that there's no such thing as unicorns, either, so how can a picture of a unicorn 'look' like a picture of a unicorn. It's all very tedious, but you stick around for it.

Even though you have now also remembered that you have to bring in something to school tomorrow for the school time capsule.

* * * * *

That turned out to be an easy assignment, though, for while at the store you also bought a little plastic bag, and sealed up your comic book (after reading it) inside it, and that's what you bring in for the capsule. Mr. Walberg mulls it when you hand it to him. Almost you think he's going to reject it, but instead he only asks if you expect it to be valuable in a hundred years. You shrug.

And life would seem set to continue much as it had been going for you up until this point. But then, in the hallway as you're going to lunch, you spot a cowboy hat, and recognize the guy under it as one of Lacie's friends. And with him is Jonas.

Your conscience has turned rancid since Saturday night, and instead of feeling pleased that you could do a favor for the girls, you now feel bad about interfering with Jonas's fun. So you jab him in the shoulder, and when he turns, you apologize to him.

But he only says, "Fuck you, man, it's still not cool," and wheels away. The kid in the cowboy hat grins feebly at you, shrugs, and follows him, leaving you to glower.

But that's the prelude, and what happens next wouldn't have happened if you hadn't tried making things up to him.

Because after school, he stops to talk to you (briefly) in the school library.

* * * * *

It's not your habit to wait around after school, but today you arranged to meet Christian. You brought that book you got at Arnholms' in to school, to show him, and he's supposed to meet you in the library. But it's Jonas who sees you first.

You're sitting at a table when he comes in, and since you're near the door he can hardly miss seeing you. He stops dead in his tracks, and for a moment you think he's going to turn and stalk off. But instead, after turning white and biting down on his lip, he comes over to your table.

"Hey," he mutters. "Sorry I yelled at you earlier."

"Well, I told you," you reply, "I'm sorry I came out and fucked things up for you."

But he's not mollified. "Why'd you do it?" he demands. "You think you were gonna get something from Lacie? Like a bee-jay?"

"Oh, fuck you, man, I—"

"Alright, alright!" He holds up a placating palm. "You just fucked things up real good for me, is all."

"I wasn't trying to fuck things up for you! Your friends, they just wanted your girlfriend out of there."

"Well—" His jaw works, and his eyes dart. "You should'a just stayed out of it. Who are you, anyway? I never you seen around with them before."

"And you never will again," you retort. "I'm freaking sick of the lot of you." That only earns you a spiteful glance.

This is when you make your fatal mistake. Your phone buzzes with a text from Keith, asking you to get in your locker to retrieve a mechanical pencil he loaned you earlier. As your locker isn't far, you leave your stuff in the library after foolishly asking Jonas to keep an eye on it for "a minute." You're not surprised, when you get back, to see he's gone.

But you don't notice that he's apparently swiped that book on his way out, until Christian comes in to ask what you wanted to show him.

That's all for now.

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