The Book of Masks (Vol. 4)

Betting on the Beta

Previously: "Frenemies in High Places" 

"Hey! I got problems of my own with these two bints!" you holler back at Kelsey. "Don't you? Carlos? When we were all talking about who we could pull down off'a their high horse, wasn't it Kelsey you wanted to— To—" You feel your eyes bulge as you run out of breath.

But Kelsey just smirks at you.

"Whatever, Will," she says. "So what say we all just try to do better, m'kay?" She glances down at Deanna, who is sprawled on the floor with a thin stream of drool trickling from the corner of her gaping mouth. "God, lookit her," she sneers.

Together, the three of you heave the prostrate girl onto Kelsey's bed. Then—as if by some unspoken agreement—the other two leave the room.

Paranoia scratches at you in their absence. Neither seems happy with you. Well, why should they? You were screaming at them, and you did almost fuck things up with the mask. That's bad enough, but Carlos and Mike also seem to be pretty deeply under the influence of their masks. They could really fuck things up for you if they wanted to, so you're just going to have to do your best to keep on their good side.

And that, you tell yourself, will be easier from inside Deanna's mask. Yes, you personally have a problem with Kelsey and Amanda. But Carlos touched the truth when he asked if Jenny did too. She has the same problem with them that she has with Chelsea Cooper: she hates bossy girls. (Probably because Jenny's pretty bossy herself.) But it should be easier to get along with them as Deanna, who is one of their friends. At least, insofar as anyone can be "friends" with those two—

You cut yourself off before you can start swearing again, and occupy yourself with studying your body to be. Deanna's eyes are still open, and their glassy vacancy unnerves you, so you push them shut. That leaves her looking even more corpse-like, so you put your ear to her chest. It's very hard to detect a heartbeat or breathing this way, so you burrow deeper against her bosom.

The bedroom door swings open, and Kelsey does a double-take as you jump off Deanna. "God," she says with a smirk. "You really can't wait, can you?"

Your face flames. "I wasn't—! I was just—!"

"Chill out, Will. We were doing the same things with these girls when we first got to 'em."

"Fuckin' truth, man," Amanda says. She offers you a bottle of sparkling water. "Peace offering, okay?"

"Thanks." You wince at the grudging tone in the voice. "Sorry I flew all over you."

"Whatever. Me and Mike are still coming down off the day, so we were a little salty ourselves. Weren't we?" She lightly strokes Amanda's arm.

"Yeah?" you say. "You had fun at school?"

"Don't you know it. Mmm." Kelsey lifts and stretches a long, tanned leg and arches her sandaled foot. "You know," she says to Amanda, "with most of the other cheerleaders still being our betas and all, and Josiah being Chelsea, we could probably get Kelsey back onto the squad if we wanted to."

"It'd mess up her schedule."

"Like that matters. It's all about having that killer senior year, and— Fuck!" Color flares in her cheek. "I got so fucked over at the tryouts."

"It's Kelsey's own fault," you find yourself blurting out. "She didn't have to quit the squad just because she didn't get her way with the lineup."

"Sure she did," Kelsey retorts. "She was going to be squad captain or she wasn't going to be nothing." She daunts you with a hard eye, then dissolves into giggles. "Like what she's got isn't enough," she murmurs, and hugs herself tightly.

Amanda makes a face. "I should have rock-paper-scissored you for her mask."

"I called dibs." Kelsey grasps and kneads Amanda's elbow. "And there's nothing wrong with Mandy here."

"I hate that nickname."

"Mandy, Mandy, Mandy." Kelsey sing-songs, then giggles.

"So, switch masks with you?"

"They already got our— Hey!" Kelsey pulls away. "What are we fucking around here for, we need to get the rest of the stuff ready for Will." She strides over to a walnut dresser. "Deanna should be just about done baking." She titters and repeats the word. "Baking."

She takes out a plastic tub and a paintbrush and settles on the bed next to Deanna. She smiles at you, and pats the bed by her knee.

You sink slowly down next to her, dreading—but also hoping, a little—that she'll get flirty with you the way she was being flirty with Amanda.

* * * * *

But she keeps her hands to herself, and you're studying the ceiling when she nudges you; you look down to see the mask sitting on Deanna's face. Kelsey carefully lifts it off her, then uses the brush to apply some kind of sealant to the inner surface. "There," she says as she blows it dry. "Now you just have to get out of Jenny's mask so we can get it onto her, and then get her mask onto you. Come on, Will." She claps your leg. "Get out of your things. Clothes first, unless you want to Hulk out in them."

Oh, God! You're suddenly assailed by nerves. You hated getting undressed in gym class when you were an underclassman, and in this moment you discover that Jenny hated it too; it's one of the reasons she never went out for team sports even though she is naturally athletic. You find yourself feeling especially shy under the smirking glances of Kelsey and Amanda.

But you force yourself: kicking off shoes, tearing off socks and jeans and t-shirt; peeling off the bra and panties. You shiver as you lay out on the bed and look up at Kelsey, who is grinning down hard at you; you shiver again as she turns to look over at Amanda, who purses her lips appreciatively at you. "Just get this thing off me," you moan, and squeeze your eyes shut.

You sense Kelsey bending over you, then you feel her hand grasping your brow. You tense and grit your teeth; a sudden gasp is torn from your lungs as you feel your face being ripped from the front of your skull.

* * * * *

You surface into a gauzy wakefulness, as though your brain has been wrapped in cotton and linen bandages after being pumped full of helium. You wince as you sit up, then jump as a slick coil slithers off your head and onto your bosom.

Bosom! Oh God, you've got a bosom, and its bare to the world! You cover it instinctively with one hand—

Oh Jesus! You're naked as a newborn! With a squeal you twist yourself into a ball and dart your eyes about the room.

It's a bedroom, a very large bedroom. It's Kelsey's bedroom! You're naked on her bed and—!

With a groan you drop your boobs and clutch your head, and try to force the jumble of memories and viewpoints into something coherent.

Deanna Showalter. You are at Kelsey's because you were going to switch out of Jenny Ashton's mask and into Deanna Showalter's. So are you now—?

With gritted teeth you wrench your eyes open and peep down at yourself. You've got boobs and a bush, but your skin is a pale, and a great glob of baby fat droops off your stomach. As you lay a hand on it, another coil of hair slips onto your shoulder. You grimace: And I spent nearly forty minutes getting made up! you think.

Okay, so that settles who you're supposed to be now. But seeing is still believing, so you scramble off the bed and pad over to the mirror at the vanity table. Deanna Showalter, looking nervous and a little aghast, gingerly approaches you from the other side of the glass.

She's very pink. (No, it's you who's very pink.) Pink and peach and pale. Flabby around the stomach, with bowl-like hips and heavy thighs. Breasts that are small and pointed. Your hair has completely fallen into a loose tangle of curls. Oh God, those bitches have totally messed everything up! It's going to take you another hour—AT LEAST!—to get yourself back together in time for—

Your heart and stomach simultaneously try to jam themselves up inside your throat.

Your phone chimes—a silly little pop song—and you whirl and dive for Deanna's discarded clothing to retrieve it. It's a text from Kelsey: Are you awake yet?

You hurl the phone away without answering and grab up your clothes. Panties and bra; the one-piece dress that you have to tug and yank onto yourself, like you're a sausage and it's a casing. "Just a minute!" you yell when there's a knock on the door. You're still not fully dressed, and your hair is like a mop, when you haul it open.

Kelsey gasps when she sees you, then stifles a giggle.

"I know, I look awful," you yell. "What did you do, use a vacuum cleaner to pull her clothes off her?" She was still dressed when Carlos unmasked you.

She only snickers. "Come on, take 'em off again. I'll get a robe for you." She pushes past.

"Take 'em off?" you gasp. "What for?"

"You're staying in with us tonight. Well, for the evening." She opens the door to a closet that must be as big as your bedroom at home. "You don't want to go out until you start getting the memories, Will. And you'll love it here. We've got a sauna, a steam room, a pool. Also—" She dimples at you. "Wine."

"But I've got—!" you blurt out, then catch yourself.

"You've got what?" Kelsey pulls a fluffy terrycloth robe off a hanger.

You feel yourself flushing all over.

You'd like to stay here with Kelsey. It would be a lot less mortifying than following through on Deanna's plans.

But she has been working her ass off to set up tonight's date, and it would ruin things for this new beta of yours if you backed out of her date with Steve Patterson—the most eligible guy at Westside High!

Next: "Clothes Off, Insecurities Out" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 4)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 4)"