The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)

A Delayed Revenge Is the Coldest Revenge

Previously: "A Pain in the Acheson" 

"Oh, fuck this and fuck you," you snarl. You wheel and stalk for the doors.

Your hackles are up, and if you heard even the softest Pussy from behind, you'd probably spin back around to punch that asshole in the face. But the worst you hear is nervous giggling.

* * * * *

Hours later you're still spun up about it, and that's after a long and exhausting bike ride around the neighborhood, and even a cooling shower. You shovel down supper in a silence that gets you some careful looks from your parents and even your brother, and then you go back upstairs to hurl yourself onto your bed. Every time you think you have put the memory of the afternoon behind you, it comes back and you flare up all over again.

Part of the problem, you'd have to admit, is that there is something to what Smirk Boy said. You did bolt the Warehouse without getting close to what you went out there for, and you did walk off without taking him up on his dare.

But—

(And of course you're going to muffle and pad those small, hard truths with as many "buts" as you can.)

But he was an asshole. He was an asshole and a showboater on the basketball court, and he was an asshole and a showboater in the community center. Even the story he told about losing his license made him sound like an asshole and a showboater. And putting you in a corner with that "pussy" remark was definitely the act of an an asshole and a showboater.

That's the real reason you want to punch him in the face, you tell yourself angrily. Because he deserves it just for being an asshole and a showboater.

Along about seven o'clock you get a text from Patrick, asking if he can call you. You tell him sure.

"Hey," he says when you pick up. He sounds wary, and subdued. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," you retort, though you're not.

"You still mad?"

"No!"

There's a long pause. Then Patrick says, "Yeah, I'm really sorry about Russ."

"Why should you be sorry?"

He sighs.

"Yeah, I guess it's not really the same thing, me calling to apologize for him. He's not going to apologize to you, you know?"

"I don't give a fuck."

"Yeah, well I will. 'Cos he was a dick to you."

"Yeah," you sarcastically retort. "He was a dick and I was a pussy."

There's another long pause. Patrick says, "You're not going to be mad at me, are you?"

That's when you realize that you have been taking it out on him. And more than a little, too.

"No, I'm not mad at you, bro," you tell him. "I'm sorry I sounded like I was. But he just got all under my skin."

"Yeah, he can do that sometimes. You kind of have to get used to him. And, well, he isn't really one of my friends, so—"

"Oh, you don't have to say that. I don't care who your friends are. If you like him and he's friends with you—"

"No, but he isn't, I'm not just saying that. He's one of Tiffany's troop."

You've heard that phrase before, Dean used it: Tiffany's troop. You ask him what that means.

"Oh, that's just our name for the juniors she collects. Juniors this year, sophomores last year, some of them freshmen back when we were sophomores. She's kind of like their den mother. And Russ isn't even really one of them, he just hangs out with some of her troop. Like Ryan. But Tiffany just kind of looks after them all. Lacie too."

"What kind of 'looking after' do they need?"

"Oh, none, really. She just likes to mother them, look after them. Ask them their problems, help them with their, you know, relationship stuff. Lacie's sister is one of them that she likes to help look after. Uh, you shouldn't mention to her that Bree was out there last night."

"I won't."

"So I just wanted to check in with you, make sure you understood that I, uh, wasn't, you know, going along with Russ on, um, anything he said."

"I didn't think you were, but thanks. And you know, the reason I didn't hang out long up there was I took one of your other friends home."

"Yeah, who?"

"A guy named Andrew. He was with Dean, he goes to Eastman."

"Oh, Andrew Newkirk? Why did he leave early?"

"He wasn't having a good time, I think. You know, it seems like you know a lot of people."

He laughs. "I'm kind of sociable, I know. Like how I wound up hanging out with Russ and Ryan yesterday."

"They were at the Warehouse last night, weren't they?"

"Yeah, but that's not how— I wound up leaving with this girl, Michelle? And she's friends with these other guys, and I happened to know some of them. Anyway, we all wound up at—"

It's long story, full of lots of moving parts, the gist of which was that he bounced from one group of people to another to a third all Sunday morning, until he ended up in Acheson with Russ and Ryan, who were with that third group until they peeled away. "If you hang out with me, you never know who you're going to end up with," he concludes with a laugh.

* * * * *

You would expect that to be the end of your acquaintance with those two guys from yesterday, but there's an unexpected sequel the next day. It comes during lunch.

Patrick had texted you while you were still eating breakfast, asking you can pick up his friend Ryan and take him to school. He lives south of Acheson (Patrick explains) and has an early bus, but he missed it this morning. He assures you it will be no problem if you can't, as he can probably find someone else to pick him up. Even though Ryan is "Dough Face" from yesterday, you agree, figuring it would be a nice gesture on your part.

"Oh, jeez bruh," Ryan says as he climbs into the cab of your truck fifteen minutes. "You're the gee-oh-ay-tee! My freaking alarm didn't go off, and the bus was ten minutes gone by the time I got down to the stop!"

You tell him it's no problem.

"Yeah, so I called Patrick, 'cos he's the one usually rescues me when this happens, but he was, like, I got someone else who's closer who can get you. And then he told me who, and I was like, Bro, no, that dude hates me! But here you are."

You assure him that you don't hate him.

"Yeah, well, after yesterday, you totally should'a clocked Russ in the face!"

You tell him it's alright.

"He wasn't being cool. I mean, he was, he was being Russ cool, that's what he's like, but not everyone likes Russ cool. I guess you didn't." He cackles.

You say nothing.

"Anyway, I'm sorry about that. Patrick said he talked to you about it all, tried to smooth things over. Trouble with Russ is he's got too much money. Yeah, his dad spoils him. And then he tries not spoiling him, like by keeping his license after he's supposed to get it back, but that just pisses Russ off. He's got too much money."

"Maybe someone should take some of it away."

Ryan cackles again.

"We've tried, bro, we've tried! Thing is, he's too good at poker, and things like that. I mean, he loses sometimes, but he doesn't care. He can't lose enough to make it hurt."

* * * * *

It was that phrase "to make it hurt" that stuck in your head. And it was a weird chain of coincidences that connected it and Smirk Boy to that kooky book you picked up in the used book store.

It started when you bumped into Caleb in the parking lot, and he asked if you had the thing you need to give to Walberg for the time capsule. Well, you had clean forgot about it, of course, and sprinted back to your truck, half hoping to lay hands on something you could turn in at the last moment, and half planning to make a run for Mexico if you couldn't. In the event, you hauled out the sack of clothes you wore to the Warehouse and gave it to him. He got sarcastic with you about sending your "gym clothes" to the future, but accepted it, to your relief.

Meanwhile, Ryan had asked if you wanted to hang out with him and his friends at lunch. (He emphasized that Russ didn't have the same lunch, so wouldn't be there.) You accepted, to be gracious. You didn't talk a lot, but you were struck (and a little pleased) by the fact that though he was their friend, the guys Ryan was sitting with sometimes found Russ as insufferable as you did. There was much glee at the thought of taking him down a peg, though no one had yet to figure out how.

But before lunch ended, Ryan asked how come you had had to sprint back to your truck. (He had been walking with you and Caleb.) You explained about the time capsule. He asked why you hadn't picked anything up before.

And that led to your remembering that book, and you described it to him and his friends, and how you managed to snag a book that originally cost two hundred dollars for only two dollars. They were quite impressed by that.

But it was Ryan's friend Daniel—a blonde kid in a denim work shirt and cowboy hat—who got the idea.

"Bruh," he said to the table after leaning in conspiratorially. "What if we did the same thing to Russ, only in reverse? Talk him into buying a book that looks like it's worth hundreds of dollars, 'cos it's, like, a rare copy, but it turns out to be worth only a couple of bucks?"

The others thought that would be hilarious.

And you have just such a book at home. The one you got at Arnholm's.

Ryan offered you twenty dollars on the spot for it—provided you gave him a ride home and picked it up on the way—which you agreed to.

The only question for you is, Do you want to be in on the scam, which might tip Russ off? Or do you want to just provide the dingus, and hear about it afterward?

That's all for now

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