The Book of Masks (Vol. 2)

An Age Regression

Previously: "The Field of Play" 

There's no time like the present, and with Mr. and Mrs. Osbourne out for the evening, the current set-up totally meets the criteria you set out for making an exchange.

Too bad you don't have any of the masks here with you. So you retreat to the bedroom and call Caleb.

"Hey, Jojo." You snicker as you imagine him bridling at the nickname. "I got a situation out here all perfect for doing a thing. Can you or the guys get the stuff out to Dane's mom?"

"What stuff?"

"You're supposed to be an A student, Jojo. I mean some masks and brain-things and that stuff you put inside them. You know, the same set-up that Andy and Andrew used."

"You mean for Mrs. Matthias and Spencer's sister?"

"Now you're up to a B-minus. That's exactly what I mean. Get Mrs. Matthias set up, get her, you know, get her all ready so we can switch her with Spencer's sister. Set her up, then give her my address and tell her to get out here as fast as she can."

"I don't know how long that'll be, Will."

"As long as it's within the next—" You squint the digital clock. "Ninety minutes, we should be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Move it, Jojo. The longer you fuck off, the less time we got." You hang up. "You baboon-faced freak," you mutter at your phone.

* * * * *

While you're waiting you've got time to raid the fridge for a pre-supper snack of fried chicken, pickles, and a slice of cheese, which you eat in your room, adding the dirty plate to the stack that's accumulating on your desk. (Spencer's room is a disaster even by your own none-too-tidy standards.) As you gnaw at your meal you scroll through Spencer's social media and contact lists on his phone, shooting random insults-by-text with some of his friends. To John Darden: goober. To Michael Hurst: dong lover. To Nicholas Horner: dickface. To Owen Hubble ... to Luis Castillo ... to Eric Murphy ... to Tim Ryan ... to Chris Love ... Most of them respond in kind, and you spend a solidly enjoyable twenty minutes flinging ever-more-inventive insults back and forth with a dozen friends.

The doorbell yanks you back to the present, and you fall out of your chair with shock.

"I got it!" you shout as you dash out your bedroom, but Leslie is already in the foyer before you've thundered to the bottom of the stairs. She opens the door and says, "Yes?"

From the other side a familiar voice says, "You must be Leslie. My goodness, you look just like your mother!"

Leslie's expression freezes. You pull the door open wide and slide between it and your sister. Mrs. Matthias is standing in the entryway, and her own smile falters a little at the sight of you.

"Hey!" you say, and put out your hand. "Mrs. Matthias. This is Dane's mom," you tell Leslie. She flinches a little, and her gaze turns glassy. "Come on in," you tell your visitor. "We've been, uh, expecting you." You grasp her forearm and pull. To Leslie: "You can go back to texting your friends, Les."

She smiles tightly at Mrs. Matthias, and retreats into the living room. To Dane's mom you say, "We can go talk in the dining room."

"Are Tom and Heather here?" she asks in a low voice as she follows you.

"No, they're out with, uh, clients. How do you know their names?"

"But that is Leslie in there? We can, uh, do what we were—?" Her eyes start to water. "Talking about?"

"Sure, as long as we don't waste time. You got the stuff?" Mrs. Matthias pats her over-large canvas purse. "Lemme see."

She sets it on the table and from it draws two masks, a metallic strip, a small tub, and a paint brush. "Okay, I'll get started," you tell her, and pick up the metal strip and the blank mask.

Leslie looks over from the sofa when you saunter into the living room. "Who is that?" she asks with a sniffy frown.

"I told you, it's Dane's mom. You remember Dane."

Leslie makes a face—

—then she loses all expression as you slap her on the forehead with the brain-band. She slips to the side, and you catch and prop her up. A movement behind your shoulder catches your eye, and you glance over. Mrs. Matthias is peeping in from around the corner. "You can come on in," you tell her. "Not that there's anything to see," you add.

Her mouth is hanging open as she creeps up to you, and she stares down with a haggard, hungry expression at Leslie Osbourne. It momentarily stirs you into a resentment, but you shake it off: it's just some of Spencer's residual sibling affection.

"So, yeah," you tell her. "That's gonna be you in about thirty minutes." Mrs. Matthias shivers. "They tell you all about her? About us? The Osbournes?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes." She shakes herself, but still stares with boggling eyes down at Leslie. You hope it's only excitement she feels, at becoming a young girl again, and not ... lust.

"I guess they're also the ones that told you our parents' names. Mrs. Matthias?" You nudge her.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah." She runs the tip of her tongue over her lips.

"Yeah." You nod, even though something about her reaction makes you doubt her word. "Well, you might as well sit down. It'll be awhile." When she doesn't move, you add, "I'm gonna go take a long and smelly shit. I should be back before anything happens, though."

She doesn't reply, and with a prickling sense of dread you retreat upstairs.

* * * * *

After the brain-band has come out of Leslie you put the mask onto her, then scoop her up in your arms and carry her up to her bedroom. Mrs. Matthias follows, and you leave it to her to strip Leslie of her clothes—you've still too much of a brother's reticence (plus your own shyness) to help.

"When the, uh, mask comes out of her," you explain to her from the doorway, "just put it aside and put that other mask, the one with your name in it, onto her. It'll turn her into, uh, you, and then you can order her around." You rub a sweaty palm into a hip. "Then you can bring me the other mask, the one of, uh, Leslie, and I'll seal it up for you." Her keen stare is unnerving you. "After that you should give your clothes to the, uh, new version of you, and we'll send it home. Mrs. Matthias?" you say, for she is still staring at you with an unwinking gaze. "Did you get that?"

"I think so," she says.

"Great. I'll be in my bedroom." You practically run from the room.

You're too unnerved to continue your earlier game of insult-mongering, so you text Caleb to ask what's going on with him and the rest of the gang. They're off getting Ethan Clayborne, he tells you, and asks how things are going at Spencer's. It would take too long to explain how nervous you are, and it would take even longer to figure out why, so you just tell him that things are going fine so far. wish this stuff didnt take solong to do, you add.

Even with that distraction, it seems forever before you hear Leslie's door opening. You intercept Mrs. Matthias in the hall, taking the mask from her. Your hands are shaking as you apply the sealant, and you're trembling all over as you knock on Leslie's door and push the finished mask through the gap that appears when it opens. Why am I so freaked out? you ask yourself, but can come up with no answer. It's even worse than when you were with the guys out in that soccer field.

With nothing else to do—and feeling far too anxious to goof off and relax—you pick up all the dirty dishes in your bedroom and take them down to the kitchen. You're unloading and reloading the dishwasher—actions totally out of character for Spencer—when you hear the garage door going up. You leap a couple of inches into the air and stifle a yelp. Mom and Dad are back!

You run back into the living room and hop around in a panic, trying to will the fake Mrs. Matthias to get downstairs and out the front door before the Osbournes can come inside. It's a foolish wish, and on trembling legs you hurry back toward the kitchen to intercept them when you hear the door to the garage opening. You grin weakly at Mr. and Mrs. Osbourne as they come inside.

"Hey," you say. "How was dinner? You're back early, aren't you?"

Your dad only grunts and brushes past you toward the kitchen. Your mom gives you a dirty look. "Whose car is that out front?"

"That's, um, Dane Matthias's mom's. Yeah, she, uh, stopped by to pick up some schoolwork for Dane."

"That's one of your friends?"

Oh. Right. Spencer tries to keep Dane out of sight of his parents. "Yeah. He missed a lot of school recently, and I saved out some schoolwork for him. She's picking it up." You glance back into the living room. "She's using the bathroom now."

Your mom nods and brushes past, passing through the living room and into the study on the other side. You're left to hop nervously on your toes for a few more agonizing minutes before you hear footsteps on the stairs. You dash over to meet the fake Mrs. Matthias, and drag her toward the foyer.

But your mom and dad, almost simultaneously, step into the living room through separate entrances. Everyone freezes.

"Uh, Mom, Dad," you stammer, "this is—"

"Why, Heather," Mrs. Matthias says. "Aren't you looking great!"

"Diane!" your mom replies with a brittle smile. "I haven't seen you in—" She turns a hot, bright stare onto your dad. "Years."

You brace yourself against a wall to keep from collapsing.

Next: "The Cradle Snatcher" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 2)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 2)"