The Book of Masks (Abridged)

A Cry for Help

Previously in "Odd Man Out"  Odd Man Out You picked up an old book in the used bookstore that promised to show how to make magical disguises. But when it demanded a blood sacrifice, you gave it to your best friend, Caleb. Two weeks have passed, and now he has come to you and asked you to help him test one of the things he has made with it ...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"OKAY, I'LL HELP, but just this once," you grumble. "What do I do?"

"It'll knock you out for a few minutes," Caleb says. "Better lay back on your bed." You gape. "You'll be fine," he adds peevishly. "Lookit me, I'm okay."

"Debatable. Very debatable." But you comply. He places the metal strip across your forehead.

All the lights in the world go out. When next you open your eyes you are very groggy. "Wh'appened?" you mutter.

"Oh, back with us," Caleb says, and materializes in your field of vision. "Yeah, it leaves you feeling kind of woolly, doesn't it? Well, I guess I'll be going." He scoops up his backpack. Something inside it clinks.

"Wait, I thought you were-- Weren't you going to let me peek in your head?"

"I decided that wasn't necessary. After I got it on you, I saw it was working, and decided I didn't have to use it. You know, best to stay out of each other's heads."

"Can't you see inside my head now?"

"Of course not. I'd have to put the thingy on myself, and I didn't. And just to show you can trust me--" He hands over a strip of metal, which you numbly accept. "Keep it in a safe place," he says. "Bury it or something. You don't want anyone getting ahold of it, or else they'll be able to get inside your head. See you at school tomorrow?" You nod, and he practically runs out the room.

You look down at the strip. It is thin and slightly flexible, and shows no markings of any kind. Gingerly, you put it to your forehead. Nothing happens.

Well, he said you couldn't use one to read your own mind.

To be safe, though, you follow his advice and shove it deep inside the kitchen garbage.

* * * * *

Lisa, and your relationship with her, continue to prey on your mind. Or perhaps one should say your former relationship with her.

It had started in May, when you'd asked if you could start hanging out with her, and she'd said "Yes"--to your surprise and the surprise of almost everyone else who knew what was going on. Lisa, after all, had been known to turn down guys on the football and basketball teams. From hanging out things had progressed to where she'd put her arm around your waist and nestle her head against your chest and let you lean your own head against the top of hers. Her eyes would dance with pleasure when she saw you. But then, shortly after school started again, she abruptly reminded you that you'd never formally decided to date each other; and then during one horrible break between classes, when you went up to her and put your arm around her shoulder, she turned and calmly told you that she just wanted to be your friend.

And if that wasn't bad enough, Geoff Mansfield had started hanging out with her.

"Moving up in the world, huh?" Mansfield says a few days later. To your chagrin, you'd found him at Lisa's locker, leaning close to her.

"Dunno what you're talking about," you say. "Hey Lisa, what about a study session--"

"Saw you talking to Gordon Black after classes yesterday," Mansfield says, not bothering to hide the amusement in his dark eyes. "You thinking about going out for basketball?"

"Are you?" you retort. "Or are your brains too far from your feet?" He has at least half a head on you.

"At least I can keep my feet on the ground," Mansfield grins. "Black had yours a good six inches in the air."

"Did you get in a fight with Gordon?" Lisa asks with a frown.

"This guy is high," you say impatiently. "I steer clear of assholes. But I was going to ask if you--"

"I don't blame you for being embarrassed," Mansfield says. "Though being taken by Black isn't as bad as-- Oh, hey Lester!"

You whirl in a panic, but your personal tormentor is nowhere to be seen. Mansfield laughs as you turn around again.

"I'm sorry, Will," Lisa says. "But I'm going to a piano recital this evening." Mansfield grins at you. "You'll do fine on ... whatever you need to study for." She closes her locker and walks off. Mansfield jostles you as he follows her. He puts an arm around her shoulder. She says nothing about it.

* * * * *

A week passes. Lisa continues to be hard to pin down. Caleb is also shy. You've avoid the topic of that magic book, and he raised it only once, but after you told him again you're not interested he had spoken no more of it. In fact, now he seems to be avoiding you.

And then, on a Friday night, your cell phone rings. "Prescott," a clipped, girlish voice says. "It's Chelsea. We need to meet."

You sit up on your bed. You know of only one Chelsea, and it couldn't possibly be-- "Chelsea who?" you say.

There's a frigid pause, which all by itself practically answers your question. "Cooper," she snaps. "Don't be an idiot. I need to see you. Now. At the school." The line cuts off.

Your hand drops numbly to your side. Chelsea Cooper? The Chelsea Cooper? Head cheerleader? Girlfriend of Gordon Black? The queen bee of the school? You know she knows your name, because she has used it when telling you to get out of the way in the halls, or to turn around when you've been facing her in class. But to call you? And demand that you see her?

"I have to go out for a bit," you shout to your mother as you pass the kitchen. As usual when she's bending over a pot that's about to boil over, she shouts something unintelligible. One of these days it will turn out she's not giving you permission to leave.

Your mind spins on the drive out to the school, but naturally you can't figure out what Chelsea would want with you. Unless it's a horrible prank, but you're not far enough up the social ladder to be a victim of that. And she sounded ... businesslike.

The school parking lot is deserted in the falling dusk except for a single vehicle that you recognize as Gordon Black's VW bug. Not a good sign. Nor does your sense of well-being improve when a small figure detaches itself from the shadow next to the gym door. It's Chelsea.

She looks very pinched, with red spots showing in white cheeks, and her brow is furrowed. "Took you long enough," she snaps, and opens the door, beckoning you in.

The gym is gloomy as you cross the deserted floor toward a back staircase. Your stomach flipflops as you mount it. It leads up to the fabled "fuck room": a VIP-only storage space that is used by the school's top jocks as a kind of clubhouse. Officially, of course, it doesn't exist, and you suppose the administration doesn't know how it is being used. But every student has heard of it, and seethed with envy of what goes on behind its locked door.

Chelsea fumbles a key into the latch and pushes the door open. "You sure as fuck had better know how to fix this," she growls.

It is very dark under the rafters, and only a single small light illuminates the cramped spaces stacked with boxes and crates. The middle of the floor has been cleared away, though, and gym mats laid out. A dark mass lays in the middle of one. You stare at it a moment, and then Chelsea pushes you forward. You bend over it.

It's her boyfriend, Gordon Black. No, scratch that: it's a life-size and very life-like statue of him. Naked. Its skin is ash-white. Its mouth is slightly open and its eyes are closed. You peer closer. It is executed with such skill that you'd swear you see its chest shallowly rising and falling.

You look back at Chelsea, who is frowning and blinking furiously. "Okay," you stutter uncertainly. "I don't get what this is all about--"

Abruptly she lunges over and grabs something from a crate and thrusts it at you. To your shock, you recognize it as the book of magic that you sold to Caleb. You stare at it and then back at Chelsea. "It's this stupid book," she says, and her breath comes in gulps. To your astonishment you realize she's on the verge of crying--that she actually has been crying. "Gordon-- he did something to himself. You have to fix it!"

You look at the statue and look at the book and look at her, and gape. "I don't get it. What--?"

"I said he did something to himself!" Her voice rises to a shriek. "That!" She points. "He tried one of those stupid spells and that's what happened!"

You follow her finger. "Are you saying that's Gordon?" Your own voice rises in pitch.

"Of course, you fuckwit!" She seems to catch herself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't-- I tried to stop him, but--" She gulps for air. "How far did you get into the book? Before we-- We--"

"We what?"

"It wasn't my idea," she says in a very small voice, and draws close to you. Though she seems repulsed by her own action, she strokes the front of your shirt. "I wanted to keep you around, to help. If we had, maybe this wouldn't have happened."

Your head, naturally, is spinning. How did the book fall into the hands of Chelsea and Gordon? And why does Chelsea think you know anything about it and can help? And what the hell happened anyway?

Chelsea distracts you again. "If you help," she says in a low voice. "If you get Gordon back, I swear I will totally make it worth your while. In ways Gordon doesn't need to know about."

Mostly, you're thinking that you need to find and confront Caleb--maybe he can provide the missing clues. On the other hand, Chelsea is being awfully persuasive, and is unlikely to continue being persuasive if you tell her you have no idea what she's talking about.