The Book of Masks (Abridged)

James Lamont Joins a Team

SOMETHING EXPLODES out of the back of your throat, and you bend double coughing; Sean slaps you hard on the back. It takes you almost a full minute to recover.

"Did I just hear you say--" You start, and stare. Yes, you did. "Are you serious?"

"You don't like it?" His voice is veiled and quizzical.

"It's not that I don't. It's just--" You struggle for words. "It's a pretty big deal you're talking about."

"No, it's just a lot of small deals. What I did?" He points to his chest. "Small deal. You and Cameron? Small deal. James and ... whoever? Small deal."

"But the whole idea is ..."

"Is what?"

You don't have an answer, for you've a sudden vision of Gordon Black again, glaring and sneering down at you. Except now it's all for show, just an act for everyone else. He's a sock puppet, with someone inside him the way you're inside Cameron. The two of you carry on your feud in public, but in private you laugh over it and the way you've got everyone fooled ...

Is this what Caleb is talking about? You look over at him through a squint. "So, pitch me this idea of yours again. Details, man."

* * * * *

"Can't get past me can't get past me can't get-- Aw, crap!" you cry. James darts to the side, dribbling low and fast, and sweeps around you. He goes up for the basket, but misses. "Alright, how about we take a break?" You mop your face with your shirt: it's an unseasonably hot afternoon.

James Lamont grins and lightly tries again for a basket ... and misses. Misses the third time. You trudge over and bend, lacing your hands together. He puts his foot on them, and you lift him up so he can dunk the ball. You let him drop with a grunt. "Black wouldn't let either of us on his squad, would he?" James laughs.

"I'm built wrong, and you can't shoot for shit," you allow. You slap him on the chest and draw him over to the shady side of the elementary school: the side near the basement door where Caleb introduced you to your double. "I guess we really oughta study for that English test," you grumble. "But that game was fun." James nods and reaches for his school bag. But you continue to muse aloud. "It's funny isn't it? Calling it a game."

"What's funny about calling a basketball game a game?" James is blunt, amused and cynical, even with the football quarterback.

"Well, games are supposed to be fun, right? It's not fun when Black's running things, though."

"He can be kind of an jerk," James says carefully.

"There's no 'kind of' about it. He's a total asshole." James laughs and relaxes. "But that's what I mean. It's no fun when you're trying that hard. It's like you can't be good at it and have fun both at the same time."

"What about the football team?" James asks.

"Case in point," you mutter ruefully. "My guys don't care if they're good, they just wanna have fun. And look what that does for us." You shake your head.

"Is that what you'd rather do?" James asks.

"I dunno what I'd rather do. Maybe that's how come I got discipline problems." Your mind briefly flashes back to yesterday after school, and the fight with Gordon. It had been a hard, serious, even slow-moving affair as you'd grappled with each other, straining for momentary advantages, unwilling to let go of the animus. It had ended only when Patterson surreptitiously stuck a foot in and tripped you, letting Gordon get atop you. He'd gloated, of course, but you'd let him, though without allowing your own chin to droop. "Know your place, Huber," he'd said as a parting shot. "I know yours," you'd replied.

"People like you," James says, snapping you from your reverie.

"People like me do what?"

"I mean that people like you, respect you, wanna hang with you," he says.

"Makes it hard to say 'no'," you agree. "What would you do in my place?" He blanches. "Yeah, okay, I dunno either. But what would you do in Gordon's place?"

"I don't know basketball any better than I know football."

"I mean about letting people have more fun. Relaxing, not being an asshole. If you were Gordon Black what would you do?"

"If I were Gordon Black I'd do what Gordon Black does." You whap him on the side of the head, and he laughs. "Are you asking what I'd do as captain of the team?"

"No, I'm asking what you'd do if you were Gordon Black. Look," you continue. "Suppose I gave you magical shapeshifting powers, and you made yourself up like Gordon Black." He cocks an eyebrow. "And we got rid of the real Gordon Black somehow, so you could take his place. What would you do?"

"Freak out, because I don't know how to act like him."

You chuckle: You like James and his insolent honesty. "So I give you the power to imitate him exactly. Would you try to act just like him? Or would you act a little different?"

James' lips disappear as he sucks on them. "I couldn't change too much or people would notice," he says. He mulls a little more. "I'd probably pick a different set of people to bully." More cynicism, but useful.

"Like who?"

He grimaces. "I'd put fucking Jason Lynch in his place."

"Oh?" you grin. "You and Lynch have problems with each other?"

"I'm one of his special friends," James says. "Have been since middle school."

"You went to Schuyler?" He nods. "I went to Gates. So, you'd target a different set of victims."

"I guess." He scratches an eyebrow. "Make life easier for guys like me. People do what Gordon tells 'em to." Caleb was right: James has a good head on his shoulders. "Yeah, but it wouldn't be fun," he sighs.

"You'd have Chelsea. Wouldn't it be fun to, uh--" You shove a fat middle finger of one hand into the fist of the other and waggle it around.

He guffaws. "Yeah, that'd be sick, though. Pretending to be her boyfriend." His eyes flick back and forth furtively over his grin. "Fun, but sick."

"So it would be fun to be Gordon Black. Captain of the basketball team, dating the head cheerleader, telling people what to do and how to do it--"

"But he's still basically an asshole. That's what wouldn't be fun."

"So who would you like to be?"

He turns and gives you a penetrating stare. "Why don't I want to be myself? I mean if I change into another person, what happens to my friends and family? I'd have to watch them freak out because I disappeared."

"You wouldn't disappear. We put in a robot to replace you."

"Magic and robots," he laughs. "You oughta write a story about it." He pushes you.

"You oughta live it," you retort. "So, we give you shapeshifting powers and put in a robot to replace you. You can turn yourself into anyone at school, and we get rid of them--"

"I can't kill anyone, not even Gordon."

"Okay, we don't kill 'im. We just put him someplace safe."

"Like, lock him in a basement? Jesus!"

"Well, we put him to sleep. A magical coma." He snorts merrily. "So let's say we get rid of all your ethical qualms--"

"The whole thing is an ethical mess!"

"Just play along. Who do you replace?"

He turns a cock-eyed grin at you. "Maybe I replace you."

"Me?"

"Sure. You're the football quarterback. You're popular. You've got--" He stops short.

"I've got what? Oh!" You grin. "I've got Anne!" He blushes. "Go on, say it. I don't mind." His mouth splits into a gaping grin of embarrassment. "Here, lemme show you something."

You stand and gesture him to follow you to the basement door, the key to which Caleb has lent you. James' eyes go wide as you open the door and pull him in. On the table near the bottom of the steps is the book of magic. You point to it. "Will Prescott showed you this the other day, right?" He nods in puzzlement. "Watch this." You stretch out on the table and put your hand to your face. You murmur the words that Caleb told you would take a mask off. The world goes dark.

* * * * *

Cameron Huber sits cross-legged on the floor, looking a little uncomfortable in James Lamont's clothes; Cameron's own clothes are barely hanging onto your own slim frame. "Think back to yesterday, the talk you had with Sean Mitchell," you urge him. "What were you talking about?"

His gaze turns inward and his brow puckers. He gives a little gasp. His eyebrows shoot up. He looks at you. "You guys aren't serious." You turn your hands palm up, as though to say But here we are. "Whoa."

"What do you think?" you quietly ask. "You want to be Gordon Black?"

He ponders the offer. "I think I'd still rather be ... Cameron."

"Cameron's got it hard. Think. Remember."

He scratches a hairy knee, and the small muscles in his face work as he seems to relive some of the things that have happened in recent days. "It's a challenge," he says slowly. "But if we do what you and Sean--" He stops and turns a piercing glance at you. "But it's not Sean, not really, is it?"

"It's Caleb Johansson," you admit.

"If we do what you and Caleb are thinking of doing ... Cameron's life becomes easier."

You grunt. He's right, and he could do it now: with the blank mask Caleb left, you could take over for him (temporarily). But you and Caleb were really counting on him taking over for Gordon.