The Book of Masks (Abridged)

Crap to the Future

WHOEVER IS BACK THERE, it's probably not anyone you'd care to run into. Dane's the only one of that kind of crowd you think you could deal with. So you continue around to the front of the building.

The hallways are empty--an eerie sight--but you hear laughter as you pass the teachers' lounge. You shudder. Teachers having fun: what a creepy thought.

Mr. Walberg looks back at you with a weary expression when you find him. "So what have you got," he sighs.

You fumble the book from your backpack. "Just this." It suddenly strikes you that it might not be the kind of thing he wants for the project; maybe you regard the collection as a heap of junk, but he probably doesn't, and you hope he doesn't sarcastically reject your offering.

He studies the cover. "I found it at Arnholm's," you say. He opens it and looks at the first page. "It looks kind of old, so I thought--"

His eyes shift behind the tinted lenses. "And what exactly did you think," he asks, and his frown deepens.

You're saved by the sound of running footsteps. "Chuck! Margaritas in the teachers' lounge! Becky brought--!" It's Ms. Goretsky, and her tweed skirt and sensible pumps have vanished in favor of rainbow-colored tights and jogging shoes, which clash harshly with her starched white top. She pulls up sharply at your unexpected presence.

"You need a designated driver?" Mr. Walberg says from behind you. You jerk back around, feeling severely conscious of your position. Mr. Walberg drops the book into a bottom drawer of his desk and closes it. "I'll be along in a bit, Diane," he says. "Is there anything else, Mr. Prescott?"

You shake your head, and your feet don't want to work as you stiffly squeeze past Ms. Goretsky. You redden at the sound of their voices as the two teachers continue to talk, even though you can't make out their words.

* * * * *

You wind up over at Caleb's house, probably because you're wishing you'd just gone to see him instead of making that mortifying trip to the school. Still, it's given you a nice piece of gossip. "God, I bet they're getting drunk out there every single fucking day," he snickers. "Ms. Goretsky, in tights? Yow."

"And her shirt was all, like, down to here." You touch the midpoint of your thigh. "It looked like she wasn't wearing anything underneath it."

Caleb howls. "I'm gonna have to bleach my brain to get the picture out!"

"Actually, she looked kind of sexy. I mean, she's gotta be at least thirty-five, but--" You flush as Caleb throws his head back and laughs. "I bet she was cute twenty years ago. Oh, fuck you!" You hurl a pillow at him. "Better her in those tights than Walberg!"

Caleb nearly capsizes, and you fall over on your side as well. "So what were you doing there anyway?" Caleb asks when your joint laughter subsides.

"Giving him something for that stupid time capsule. What have you got?" From his desk he tweaks up a thumb drive. "The fuck is that?"

"Something to tease the future with. I put a buncha porn on it, buried way deep inside some folders. The rest of it is just, eh, random pages off the internet."

"Pft. They're gonna have porn in the future."

"Sure. But it's the thumb drive that makes it special." Your brow crinkles in puzzlement. "Yeah, see, they're not going to be able to read it, because in fifty years or whenever they dig it up all the tech is gonna have changed. So, in the future, they're gonna be all, like, oh wow, there must be some really mind-blowing stuff on this thing, but they won't be able to read it. It'll drive 'em crazy."

"They'll find a way to get into it," you object, and then realization breaks as Caleb grins. "Oh, I see. And they'll just find a bunch of out-of-date internet pages and pictures of guys sucking off goats."

He leans forward eagerly. "You know where I can find pictures like that?"

"Why, does that turn you on?"

"No. But what a perfect first image for them to find."

You smirk back, and then your smile fades. "Yeah, but what if Walberg goes through it first?"

"That old fart? I bet he still uses a typewriter."

* * * * *

If Walberg did go through Caleb's thumb drive, he doesn't say anything, and a week later the whole class traipses out to a little plot of land at the corner of the school property to bury the capsule. "Dearly beloved and deeply bereaved, we are gathered here today--" Caleb snickers in your ear. You chortle, but choke it off when you catch Walberg glaring in your direction.

"Mr. Mansfield," the teacher says when the crowd has sufficiently settled down, and Geoff lowers the steel box into a fresh hole. Walberg nods at Kelsey Blankenship.

Blech. Kelsey. Naturally, Walberg picked that rich, stuck-up, hyper-ambitious bitch to say a few words as the class commits the bones of the present to the care of the future. She looks very smug as she reads from a crinkled sheet of paper, and you're glad she's on the other side of the capsule from you.

You're glad Mansfield is on the other side as well, for it gives you a chance to--

You edge around Caleb and nudge your way past Jonas Martin. He shoots you a hard glance over his shoulder, and you can't help flinching a little. He's another one of those basketball thugs, like Black and Patterson and Javits, and you're thankful he's the only one in the class, for it means he doesn't feel like he has to show off in front of his peers by bullying small fry like you.

You keep edging around the crowd until you're next to Lisa. Carefully, as though on accident, you brush against her. She glances at you, but doesn't otherwise react.

* * * * *

"Yeah, I saw what you did back there," Caleb snorts as the class troops back to the room.

"Shut up," you growl. You're watching the back of Lisa's head, and the curls of her long, dark hair as they bob against her shoulders. You'd be walking next to her, but Mansfield had brutally cut in, pushing you away. Fucking Geoff Mansfield.

Back in the room, Mr. Walberg taps his lectern. "And now I want a one-page paper from you all, describing what you put in the capsule and why you chose it." A collective groan goes up from the students. "Due Friday," he adds.

Brooke Galloway's hand shoots up. "Why didn't you tell us this before," she whines. "We just buried it!"

"So now we'll see how much thought you put into it," Walberg says with a grim smile. "If you actually thought about it, it will be an easy assignment. And if you don't remember what you put in the capsule, Miss Galloway--" He shrugs.

Some of the students snicker as Brooke reddens. You look at Caleb, and he looks back at you with a stricken expression. You lean back, smiling at his discomfiture, then do a little double take as you see Lisa lean toward Geoff. He replies to her query with a shake of his head, which cheers you, for you'd overheard what she'd asked ...

* * * * *

"So who'd Walberg kill today," James Lamont asks. He tips his cola back and eyes you and Caleb satirically. "It looked like someone got buried out in that grave."

"Probably just what's left of Walberg's sex drive," Carson Ioeger sniggers. "The hole was small enough." He empties a bag of chips into his mouth.

"It was a time capsule," you say. "I told you guys about that."

"I wasn't paying attention," Carson says. "What's your name again?"

You flip him off, then nudge Caleb. "Tell 'em what you put in it."

He ignores you. "Didn't you guys have to do a time capsule for him?"

"Nah, we have him for history," James mutters. He looks at Jenny. "What are you doing after school?"

"Hanging out with Yumi." Jenny cranes her neck to gaze toward the cafeteria, then looks at you and Caleb with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Yeah, did you guys hear? Kendra got caught naked in the school." She looks over your heads again. "Yumi's been keeping me up to date."

"Fucking cheerleader stuff," James grunts, and looks at you and Caleb. "What are you guys doing?"

"What's this about Kendra being naked?" Caleb demands. "And I want details."

"It was a couple of days back," Jenny says as James rolls his eyes. "After classes let out. They found her in the girls' bathroom without any clothes on. And she was passed out," she adds with a conspiratorial grin.

"Who found her?" you ask.

"And did they get pictures?" Caleb asks, his eyes goggling.

"Fatima Zahedi," Jenny says, "so no, there weren't any pictures. But she had friends there, and word got back to Charles Hartlein, so of course--" There are peals of laughter. "Anyway, they--" And you don't have to ask who "they" are. "They are saying it never happened, that Charles and them are just making it up, but--"

Well, that sets off lots of ribald speculations involving alcohol and loss of inhibitions and the slutty behavior of cheerleaders (except for Yumi, of course) before talk circles back to after-school plans. "I'm gonna stay late and write a paper for Walberg," you say, trying to make it sound like a grumble. Stay late so you can "accidentally" run into Lisa.

"Can I hang out with you and Yumi," Paul Davis asks Jenny in a hopeful tone.

"You just go ahead and do that," Carson says, and leans back to address the sky. "And if you ask James, he could join you later to take Jenny off Yumi's hands. That'd be nice for you and him both, so you probably won't even have to ask him nicely."

An awkward silence settles over the group.