The Book of Masks (Abridged)

Attempted Recoveries

YOU SHOULD HAVE YOUR LAPTOP OUT, but that'd look too businesslike. It'll be much easier to push aside the notebook after Lisa has sat down at the table with you. For about the tenth time since settling near the library's entrance you put the pencil to the page. But you can think of no words to write. Except Lisa, over and over again.

Fucking Walberg. What a shit thing to do to the class. You've barely thought about that crazy book in the week since you gave it to him. Not that it would do you much good if you could remember it. What can you write, except "I contributed an old Latin book. It contained magic spells for creating disguises. I put it in the time capsule because I wanted to get rid of it, and because this was a stupid assignment."

Disguises.

If you'd kept the book, and put something else in the time capsule you'd have an easier time with this damn assignment. And the book? You snort to yourself at the satirical thought: Maybe you could have made up a disguise that would let you get closer to Lisa. Maybe you could have disguised yourself as--

You flinch. You hate Mansfield. He's another one of those stuck-up AP types: advanced classes across the board; debate and political science, because he's going to be a fucking politician; extra-curricular activities out his asshole. And he looks the part, too. He's always been just a little bit taller than you, and even back in middle school he carried himself like he was a year older than everyone else. And now that it's your senior year he even looks like he's already in college. Tall, with dark, neatly trimmed hair and a broad, confident smile that shows lots of straight white teeth. Not like your smile, which somehow gets all tangled and twisted up.

What's the attraction for Lisa? His looks? Yeah, he looks good, you have to admit. But with a magic disguise you could look good, look just like him. Ha!

You sigh and sag in your seat. But if she actually likes him? Could you act like him? That wouldn't be part of the disguise, and she'd spot the imposture. And if you could act like him-- Well, then she wouldn't have dumped you for him.

You twist in your seat. Except she said she didn't dump you, because you were never together.

Someone coughs, and you look over. It's Kendra. Odd to see her in the library, of all places, and without Gloria or Chelsea or any of the other cheerleaders. Especially now, since you'd seen her in the parking lot with them not fifteen minutes ago. She shifts in her chair, and you have to blink, but it was just a momentary illusion: her dark top had seemed to vanish, exposing the lovely brown skin beneath. You take a sharp breath and shake your head. Jenny and that stupid gossip. You turn back to your notebook, and are dismayed to see that you've just written Kendra on a clean, white sheet of paper. Hurriedly, you erase it, then flip to a new page.

You look at the clock: Three fifty-five. If Lisa is coming, shouldn't she be here by now? The door opens, and you jerk your head over. But it's only-- "Shit! Dane! What are you doing here?"

He jumps back, and his eyes pop. "Whoa. Prescott. Don't sneak up on me, dude."

"Shouldn't you be in Walberg's room?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah," he says slowly. "He lemme go early. Guess he had somethin' to--Whoa, lookit that!" He's spotted Kendra, so of course he forgets all about you, and pads over to her. To your surprise, she smiles at him as he crouches next to her chair.

But you haven't long to contemplate this scene, for the door opens again, and Lisa sweeps in.

And Mansfield is with her. Your face craters.

If Lisa has noticed your reaction, she doesn't mention it as she greets you. "What are you doing here, Will?" she asks with a smile.

"Working on that thing for Walberg." You shove a chair with your foot, meaning to push it out for her, but you get tangled up with its legs, and it bangs against the table and floor.

"What did you put in the capsule?" she asks. "I meant to ask you." She ignores the chair, and twists her head around to look at your notebook.

"Just a book, about--" You look at Mansfield, who is smirking down at you. "A book of magic."

"Cool," Mansfield says dryly. "Wanna see me make something disappear?" He plucks a book from Lisa's arm and drops it into the return slot. "You ready to go?" he asks her.

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you around, Will."

As she disappears through the doorway, Geoff cocks an amused eyebrow at you. "Now you see her, now you don't."

* * * * *

"I can't believe he buried it this deep," Caleb mutters as he throws another shovelful of dirt over his shoulder.

"I can't believe you didn't keep an extra copy of that porn on your hard drive," you retort as you sit nearby. "I can't believe you talked me into coming out to help you get that thumb drive back."

"Well, I'll let you borrow it, and then you'll see why I want it back. Besides," he adds. "I'm gonna replace it with something else."

"The fuck for?"

"Because I can't write a paper telling Walberg I'm sending porn into the future!"

"So just make up some other shit! Like it'll do you any good. He knows you put a thumb drive into the capsule."

"He got his notes mixed up, Will," Caleb says patiently. "That's how come his notes will say I gave him a thumb drive when I give him a paper saying that I buried a CD containing my favorite music tracks."

"He'll know you're lying."

"And if he accuses me of lying, I'll make him dig the damn capsule up again. In fact, I hope he does accuse me of lying, so I can make him dig it up. It'll be worth it to see the look on his face when he finds a CD and no thumb drive down here."

You roll your eyes. It's well after midnight, and you'd had to sneak out of the house to meet with Caleb for this raid. It had to be late, to lessen the chance of being caught.

Eventually, Caleb pulls the box from the ground. You hold the flashlight as he rummages through the contents. "The fuck is it?" he mutters.

But you're not listening. You've noticed that your own contribution--that weird old book--is not in the box. Caleb must have noticed the frozen expression on your face, for he asks you what is wrong. "My book," you mutter. You reach into the box, and the flashlight beam wavers.

"Hold that thing still," Caleb snaps. "I'm trying to--" His fingers rake along the bottom of the box. "Ah, here it is. Now, what were you babbling about?"

"I gave Walberg a book to put in here, and it's not here."

Caleb blinks, then shoves you. "Dammit, Will, you've fucked everything up! How's the future gonna manage if they haven't got your diary to guide them?"

"Shut up!" You shove him back. "It was a book I wanted to get rid of, so I gave it to Walberg to put in the capsule, and now it's--" You bite your lip.

"And so you got rid of it," Caleb says. "Do you have it now?"

"No, I told you--"

"So you got rid of it. Mission accomplished. Come on, let's put this stuff back before someone catches us."

Numbly, you help him lower the box and fill in the hole. Neither of you talks until you're jogging back to your cars. "I'd still like to know what happened to that book," you mutter.

"Oh, Christ. So Walberg palmed it. It wasn't embarrassing, was it? Like, some chick vampire novel?"

"No. But yeah, he must've taken it," you agree, and stop in your tracks. "Eesh."

"What?" Caleb demands impatiently. "What's so fucking important about this book?"

You hesitate, and then you start trying to describe it: The Latin, the weird pictures, the way the pages wouldn't open, and then mysteriously would. "It was talking about making disguises," you finish somewhat lamely. "Like, magical disguises." You take a deep breath, for you realize you're going to sound very silly: "I think it was a book of magic."

"Oh, Jesus," Caleb groans. "Listen to yourself. Magic!"

"Well, if you'd seen it--"

"Well, I didn't see it, and I don't care. It's a lotta bullshit."

"It was an old book, Caleb," you insist. "I'm pretty sure it was really old and authentic--"

"Authentic bullshit."

"--and Arnholm was selling it for two hundred dollars."

That gets Caleb's attention. "You paid two hundred dollars for a book and then threw it away?"

"I only paid two bucks for it. Arnholm marked it down because, like I told you, the pages were all glued shut."

"Well, then it was obviously a fake. Just some practical joke. They had practical jokes back in the middle ages. I mean, probably they did--"

"But I told you, one of the pages did turn, after I bought it. And if I'd put my blood in it, like it asked me to--"

"Oh God, this is just getting disgusting. I'm getting cold and I'm going home. I'll see you later." He jogs off. You let him disappear into the darkness before following more slowly.

You try telling yourself that Caleb is right, and that it doesn't matter where it has gone. But you can't stop it from preying on your mind, if for no other reason than because you still have to write that report. You still have some scraps of notes from when you tried translating it. Maybe the internet can help you fill in the gaps.