The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)

A Double-Cross from Keith

Previously:

"What'll you give me for it?" you ask Keith. "How much?"

"You want me to pay you for it?" he exclaims. "Dude, I ain't makin' no offers—"

"I'm not giving it away for free!" you retort. "Fuck that, I don't get anything for it, I'll just throw it back on the pile in my room!"

Keith snorts.

"Fine. You say you paid two bits for it?"

"Two bucks," you correct him.

"Then I'll give you two bucks." He shoves a hand into his jeans pocket and digs around. "That's tops," he warns. "I ain't givin' you no profit on flipping the fucking thing."

* * * * *

Keith comes out of the Triple-A Wine and Liquor with a cheap bottle of something red, and you race back to the school so you can deliver it. Mr. Walberg seems to think there is something very fishy about your submission—something other than the fact that you're giving him a bottle of spirits—and he seems to try to shake some kind of confession out of you. Gradually, it dawns on you, to your horror, that someone else in the class must have given him a bottle of liquor, and that he thinks you stole the idea from them. But you're able to bluff him, and he winds up accepting your contribution with a bad grace.

But back home: "Dude, did you try setting me up?" you demand of Keith when you call him later that night. "That bottle of wine I gave to Mr. Walberg— Where did you get the idea from?"

"Just from something I heard someone saying in class," he says. "Say, about this book—"

"Who? Was it someone in my class?"

"I 'unno. Is Marc Garner or either of his sisters in your class?"

"No."

"Then I didn't hear it from anyone in your class. But this book of yours—"

"What did they say? Because Mr. Walberg—"

"They didn't say nothing, except something about how so-and-so would know if a bottle of something-or-other was gonna 'age' if you buried it underground."

"And that gave you the idea I should give Mr. Walberg a bottle of wine?"

"Well, that and they said your teacher might just take it for himself."

"A-ha!" you bark. "So you knew they were talking about my teacher and my class! And our project!"

"Whatever, dude," Keith says. "If it's gonna bother you, just go see your teacher tomorrow and tell him you changed your mind, you wanna take the F."

"Well, it doesn't bother me that much," you grumble.

"Uh huh. It never does, does it? But about this book you sold me. What's this shit it says about blood?"

"I don't know. What does it say?"

"It says something about buying it with money but claiming it with blood. The fuck?"

That rings a bell. Isn't that the reason you decided to chuck it away and forget about it? Because it asked for your blood?

Aloud, you only say, "I don't remember that bit."

"Didn't really take a good look at this thing, did you? It's fucking creepy is what it is. Even online translatorr don't like it. I typed in this, like, giant wall of text to get a translation, and you know what it told me? God, I have to read this to you."

There's some thumping and the creaking of bed springs before Keith speaks again.

"Zagoo shack, ack snaga ishi ghashurz ob uckat ishi," he says, stumbling uncertainly through the nonsense syllables. "Laturz ob gulu-lob ack burzum hi, lat ishi ulkatoo. Ishkur goth ishi ghash! Krimp! Nargu lat! That's the English translation it gave me!" He laughs.

"I didn't get nothing like that when I tried translating it," you tell him.

"Oh, so you did try translating it," he says. "Wha'd it say?"

"I don't remember. I remember I kept losing the connection, or the page would glitch out and reload itself."

"Yeah, this thing also timed out or something. I couldn't get it to do any more work for me for a bit. You sure this thing is healthy? I mean, it's got a pentagram and everything on it."

"I'm sure it's fine."

"Well, if I get eaten by the Blob, I want you to remember that I told you so. Oh, all this reminds me, I freakin' missed out on doing a thing with Mike and Carlos this afternoon, on account of I was helping you out."

"Mike and Carlos who?"

"Hollister. And Montoya. You know."

"Oh yeah." They're two movie-obsessed geeks that you've shared a few classes with over the years.

"Yeah, I was s'posed to help them make a video for their channel this afternoon, and I clean forgot on account of I was helping you out. So you owe me."

"What do I owe you? I don't owe you anything!"

"For missing out on making their video! I was gonna be on camera and everything!"

"What's this video?"

"It's for their channel. You know their channel."

"Pretend I don't and tell me about it."

"Dude," he sneers. "Don't you listen to people when they talk to you?"

Only when they've got something worth listening to, you think. Aloud, you say, "Remind me."

"Their channel! Their movie review channel!"

"Oh yeah," you lie. "I thought maybe you were talking about something new they're doing."

"It is new! Well, new-ish. They only got it up and running a couple of weeks now. Anyway, they wanted my help with their latest review—"

"What do you know about reviewing movies?"

"Jesus," he gasps, sounding wounded. "I am in that class with you, you know."

"I was just fucking with you," you assure him, though in fact you hadn't even thought of the fact that you and he are both in Mr. Hawks's "Film as Literature" class and are supposed to be watching and writing papers about movies. "But what did they want your help with? Didn't they take that class last year?"

"Yeah, but they don't got their format down yet. It's all pretty fluid. I might get me a spot on their panel!"

"So what can I help you with?" you ask. "Because I owe you," you add when you are answered with a baffled silence.

"Oh! Oh, I just meant, you know, you owe me for that. But not with them, I don't mean you have to help me with them. Unless you want to tell them, if you see them, that they should give me another shot on helping them out. On account of you got in the way of me helping them today."

"I'll do that when I see them tomorrow," you assure him, even though you're pretty sure you'll forget all about it.

* * * * *

In fact, you do remember to speak to them, because you have them in your English class. Carlos—a burly but cheerful Hispanic-American whose hair is cut in a faux-hawk—is already in his desk when you arrive, and you shuffle over to tell him that Keith missed helping him and Mike out yesterday on your account, and that you should give him another shot. He tells you that Keith has already talked to them and that they've promised to use him a future video. Pleased that you've discharged this duty, you return to your seat.

"What was that about?" asks Caleb, who has this class with you too. "That was nice of them," he replies in a bored voice after you explain.

"Nice of me too," you say. "On account of I owed him," you explain when he looks quizzical in reply.

"Owed him for what?"

But this time he looks a little aghast when you finish telling him about what you did yesterday after school.

"Jesus, Will," he hisses, and he scoots his desk over to mutter at you in a low voice. "You gave Mr. Walberg a bottle of wine?"

"Yeah. He looked a little surprised," you continue as Caleb glares at you, "but he was okay with it."

"He was okay with it because—" Caleb glances around, and adds, "Because he thinks you're copying from someone else, and he's gonna bust you for it and give you an F!"

You stare back. "The fuck?" you ask.

"Kirk," he replies. "Anthony Kirk. He gave Walberg a bottle of— well, of some kind of really expensive Scotch or whiskey or something. To put in the time capsule."

"Oh, fuck me!" you gasp. "I didn't know that!"

"Did Keith?"

You wrack your brain, reaching for earlier conversations.

"Oh, fuck, I think he did! I remember he said something about hearing Marc Garner and one of his sisters talking about something like that. He's the one who gave me the idea to put a bottle of wine in the capsule!"

"Like that'll make Walberg go easier on you."

"But he asked me about it! He gave me the double-cross— I mean, the third degree! But I think he decided it was just a coincidence."

"Pretty wild coincidence," Caleb says. "And you were right the first time, you did get the double-cross. But from Keith, not from Walberg!"

* * * * *

So you yell at Keith about it all at lunch when you see him. He protests wildly that it's not his fault, until he breaks down and admits that he knew Marc and Jessica were talking about the time capsule, and what someone was going to put into it. But he just wanted to help you, he says.

Help me get fucked! you snarl back.

Later that night, Caleb calls to tell you to go easy on Keith. "He means well," he says. "And maybe Mr. Walberg won't flunk you for plagiarism. You said he thinks it was just a coincidence."

"I said I think he thinks it's just a coincidence. Now I'm scared he doesn't."

"Well, be nice to Keith. In fact, how about you come in and help us on this project we're working on."

"What project?"

"This book he's got. In fact, he says he got it from you. He wants my help working on it."

You sit up on your bed, and ask what Caleb knows about it.

"I don't know anything. Except he calls it an arts-and-crafts book, and he wants some help making something from it. Says it uses chemicals that scare him."

That's all for now.

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