The Book of Masks (Abridged)

A Change of Persona

MONDAY. "Yeah, so I talked to Sean at the start of third period," Keith tells you at lunch. He sucks on his teeth and looks you up and down carefully. "I told him you were this emotionally crippled dipshit that no one likes, who goes around panting for love and approval, and never gets it because you're such a squishy fucker, and that you hid in the bathroom on this crying jag during first period because you were pissing yourself over him. You're welcome."

"Awesome. I owe you."

Caleb, who's been leaning against the wall of D wing and looking you up and down as well, sniffs. "Not that I'd quarrel with one syllable of that character sketch you gave our friend, Tilley, but what the fuck are you up to?"

Keith looks at you for guidance. "It's a long story," you tell Caleb. "Oh, and why are you guys scoping me out?"

Neither one says anything for a bit. "I dunno," Caleb finally says. "You're just--" He cocks his head.

"You just seem ... different, somehow," Keith blurts out. "You breathe some bad chemicals at that new job?"

"I don't think so." You tilt your chin. "You got a problem with me?"

"It's like someone gave you a testosterone shot," Caleb says. "You're just standing there, but it's like you're strutting."

You're leaning against the wall, one foot propped up against it, arms folded. You've folded the brim of your ball cap up, the way Sean does when he's feeling sassy. "Getting that job musta given me a boost of self-confidence." You roll your shoulders, and tilt your neck to crack a bone.

In truth, it's Sean's mind band, which you wore off and on over the weekend and decided to wear to school. Mitchell is a strong guy, but he's not a jerk and a showoff. Nevertheless, you have surging within you the instincts of a guy who's got a strong body and knows it; and they have overwhelmed your more awkward stance. You'd also spent nearly thirty minutes this morning putting on different combinations of clothes to see which ones would suit your-- You'd had to stop yourself several times of thinking of it as your "new" body, but that was the best way to see yourself with a critical, objective eye. You'd finally chosen a retro-slacker look that wasn't too far from your usual ensemble but had a little more panache.

In fact, such is your panache that you don't even look away when The Molester appears around the corner. You're staring at him with open contempt when his eyes lock onto yours. A nasty grin spreads over his face, and he treads softly over to you. "'S'up, Prescott," he says. Out of the corners of your eyes you see Keith and Caleb sidling way.

"Just hanging out," you say, returning his gaze. Your heart is beating wildly, and a voice inside you is screaming that this is a really bad idea. And yet there is also something very rigid jammed up your spine that keeps you from bending.

"Just hanging out, huh?" Lester muses. "Last time I saw Tilley he was hanging from the flagpole. Well, his shorts were, and he was still in them. Part way." His hand darts out to snag Keith by the collar and drag him back. "Javits did a real nice number on you, Tilley, and I was taking notes. I wonder how Prescott would look hanging there."

"Only one way to find out," you grin back. You have the vivid impression that part of you is trying to jump out and throttle Pozniak, and that the rest of you is trying desperately to drag that part of you back with it into a very small hole where all of you can hide.

Lester sucks in his cheeks and smiles. Slowly, he reaches up and pushes your hat off. "Pick it up, Prescott. No one wants to see your dirty hat on the ground."

"You pick it up." The part of you that is Will Prescott just throws its hands in the air and hides behind the part of you that is convinced you are Sean Mitchell. "Litterbug," you snicker.

His face turns several different shades of color.

And then he smiles. "I'm gonna like this," he says in a throaty gurgle, as though someone has just offered him a steak and milkshake for dinner, with a naked porn star as the placemat. He stretches a meaty hand for your shirt.

But Sean is a wrestler, and in a flash you sweep behind the Molester and shove him face first into the wall. As he bounces off you slide your arms around and under and over him, searching for a place to grip. He tries batting you away, but you have your hold--

But you are too small and light to do anything except hang on. Shit, where are Sean's muscles and bulk, now that you need them?

The Molester stumbles backwards, and trips over your feet, toppling you both. Luckily, you're lithe enough to twist as you fall, and he doesn't land on you. And then he makes the mistake of trying to turn onto his hands and knees while you still have him, and you quickly pin him -- the way Sean would pin an opponent at a meet. Pozniak is very strong and big, and he grunts and he strains, but Sean Mitchell was one of the better members of a team that has gone to championships.

By now a crowd of students has gathered, shouting and laughing and urging both of you on. Lester puffs and shouts and curses, and you can do nothing but hang on for dear life, wondering how it will all end.

It ends with strong hands seizing you by the shoulders and ripping you off the Molester. You expect it will be a teacher or administrator, but as you wheel you find it is Steve Patterson, the number two player on the school basketball team. He spins you around and then it's your turn to be in a headlock.

Lester rises from the dirt with murder in his eyes. Steve's voice hisses over your head. "Here you are, Pozniak. I'll hold 'im and you take 'im."

The Molester freezes, his face caught between anger and puzzlement. Jeers rise from the crowd of students, and he looks around furtively. "Come on," Steve calls impatiently. "Bloody him up. Get some of your own back."

Lester's face turns black, but he doesn't advance. Steve drops you and shoves you hard, right into Lester, who actually backs away. Patterson raises his hands and cocks his head. "So it's an even fight now, asshole. Or is he too big for you?"

Your tormentor seems to twist inside his own skin, then darts away, pushing students aside with snarls and curses. Patterson's cold gray eyes glitter as he watches Lester depart, then they freeze as they fall back on you. "Wanna try it with me, little man?" he says softly. Hoots go up from the crowd. But you just smile, bow elaborately, and back away. You can feel his eyes burning holes in your neck as you sweep your ball cap up and stride away.

Even Sean isn't stupid enough to tangle with the six-and-a-half feet of rangy muscle that is Steve Patterson.

* * * * *

Maybe it was Keith's counterintuitive buttering up that did it, but probably it was news of your fight with the Molester: Mitchell greets you with a cheerful grin at work. "I heard you thrashed Lester Pozniak at school today." You know what's coming next, of course, and quickly bump fists with him. "Most excellent!"

You also impress him with your quick knack with the work and your ability to intuit and anticipate what he'll ask of you, and you and he are best friends by the end of your shift, so he gladly accepts your suggestion that you get a burger together after work. In the back booth you casually mention you're a fan of a currently running sci-fi show featuring shape-shifters. He leaps at the bait, and you're soon deep into talk of stories about shape-shifters, body swapping, possession and other forms of identity change. Not until he's heedlessly volunteered to having written online fiction in the genre does he realize how quickly and easily you've drawn him out, and turns rather red in the face. "What is it?" you ask, feigning innocence.

"Oh, nothing," he says, glancing away while still looking very embarrassed. "It's just, you know, all this stuff we're talking about. It's not like, uh--"

"Oh I get it. It's just a neat thing," you say. "A fun idea." He grunts, and continues grinning hard at nothing. "You know," you add, "it'd be awesome if you could do it in real life."

He laughs. "Yeah, I guess. Like you say, it's a fun idea." He grins out at nothingness, then stands. "Come on, let's go find some of my guys."

* * * * *

He takes you out to Chris Ratliff's house, and the three of you are soon joined by others on the football and wresting teams: Ethan Nieves, Cameron Huber, Devin Haney, and a few others. Talk is loose, confident, dirty, locker-room stuff: not your normal fare, but under the influence of the mind band you fall easily into it and fit right in. There will be a party at Haney's house on Friday night, and his invitation to you is extended as though it's the most natural thing in the world.

On the way back home you reflect on how easy it is to fit into a social group if you have the mind and instincts of one of the members. Based on Sean's own knowledge, you are soon constructing a list of people who might be useful "mental acquisitions": others on the sports teams; some of the bohemian types; one or two Lotharios, to help you with girls.

But your mind also wanders back to Sean. You're less inclined to use the blank mask to copy him, since you're pretty damn sure he'd be glad to help you if he knew about the book and were promised the use of it. Yes, he'd probably make a much more enthusiastic partner than Caleb would have.