The Book of Masks (Vol. 4)

The Summer of Our Discontent

Previously: "A Rapidly Developing Situation" 

But your sense of panic doesn't last. Even as you frantically gulp down deep draughts of the cool night air, the world—and your place in it—comes into focus.

"You okay, boss?" Fake-Will asks as you ball up your fists and press them into your face.

"Yes," you gasp. "Just give me a minute."

The seconds tick by as Summer Nguyen steps behind you like a shadow and Lisa Rickover oozes to the fore. "Nngh," you grunt.

"Does it hit you hard?" asks Dana Pak. "Changing into other people, I mean?"

"Oh yeah," you groan. "Do you remember anything from when it was, um, you?" She shakes her head. "What do you remember?"

"Up until when?" she asks. "I remember texting Summer and going home to change, and waiting for her with, uh—" She glances at Fake-Will. "Then getting in the back of the car. I kind of remember grabbing my own face."

"Do you remember being a real cunt to me?" Fake-Will says.

"Shut up!"

"There, you see?" Fake-Will exclaims. He points at the other doppelganger. "I was gonna tell you, boss, all the time we were waiting, she was all, like—"

"Oh, shut up, both of you," you snap. "I have to get home. I think. Except first— Ow!" You bump your head on the roof of the car as you sit up. "I have to change clothes. Come on." You open the car door. "Not you," you tell Fake-Will as he opens his own door. "Just us girls."

"Hey, I already know what you look like under there!" he retorts. "Under the clothes and under the mask!"

But you don't know what's under the face that's under the mask, do you? you think. You think I'm Will Prescott all the way down. "Was he a lot of trouble while you were waiting for me?" you ask Fake-Dana as you pick your way over the side yard toward the basement door.

"Oh yeah. He kept telling me we should start hanging out together, said it would give him 'major cred' back at Westside."

You probe at Will Prescott's memories, like searching for cavities with your tongue. I'm pretty sure he wasn't serious, you could tell Fake-Dana. But what's the point?

* * * * *

You feel their eyes on you as you slide into the school library the next morning; your skin prickles under their gaze, as though under a heat lamp. Every guy in here are looking at me.

Well, you spent a lot of time admiring yourself this morning too. Summer's skin is darker than Dana's; her face is narrower. But it shares the same exciting tinge of the exotic. Her face itself is like a mask.

Maddy Caron and Mandy Simpson are sharing the table at the center of the library; they've reserved the other chairs by laying their backpacks in them. But Lawrence Farmer and Terry Fitzgerald, at the next table over, lean back to chat with them.

"Hey," you greet Maddy softly, and prod at the pack in the chair next to her. "You hear back anything about Brad and Irene?"

Maddy glances up, and pulls her bag into her lap so you can sit. "No," she says, and flips her cell phone over, screen down. Your heart thumps. She's keeping something from me. She doesn't trust me. I've fucked up somewhere.

"What's the good word, Summer?" Terry says. He stretches a skinny arm toward you. You shyly slap at his palm. "You hanging out with Chris this afternoon, or can we practice?"

You feel yourself blush. "I don't know."

"Speak up, Summer," Mandy chides you. But you only hang your head and try to shrink up inside yourself.

Poor Summer! you think as a secret smile creases your soul. She's one of Alyssa's projects, a shy, sweet girl who "just needs bringing out" in order to blossom. Or so Alyssa told her friends. But to be part in Alyssa's group is to be included in all the Rumorati's projects. And Summer has no talent for gathering, digesting, analyzing, and disseminating the rumors, gossip, and news that buzzes and crackles through Eastman High.

Which, you've found, makes her the perfect tool for causing mayhem. Just spin her around and point her in the wrong direction, and she'll run off and—with nothing worse than sweet, clumsy naivete—cause a clown-car pile up.

"Morning, all." You flinch at the familiar bray, and scoot over as Lisa Rickover dumps Mandy's pack from a chair and takes it for her own. "What's the Brad-Irene situation," she asks Maddy.

"We should wait for Alyssa," Maddy says, her eyes flicking in your direction.

"She's going to be late. She was up all night with Ian."

"Really?" Lawrence's eyebrows go up.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Farmer," Lisa snorts. "Ian was only slipping her some bad advice."

"Ian?" Mandy squeaks. Her eyes widen. "About what?"

You feel it, rather than see it: Lisa glances at you from the corner of her eye. "Talk about it when Alyssa comes," she says. "Until then— Brad and Irene."

Your gut seizes up, and you bolt to your feet. You and the contents of your stomach both wobble, and you totter out of the library to the nearest restroom. It's packed with sophomore girls checking their makeup, but you only need a toilet. You lock yourself in a stall and steady yourself over the bowl until the nausea passes.

It's all your fault, Lisa! you think as you dig your nails into the palms of your hands.

* * * * *

And yet you have to admire the finesse of the move. It was so subtle that Summer shouldn't have been able to spot it, which makes your dash to the restroom out of character. Only the fact that you're the real Lisa Rickover, and that you yourself set it all in motion before this body swap, gives you the insight to understand how she set Summer up so perfectly.

Hey, next time you see Chris Yves, you told Summer on Monday, ask her if Adam and Melissa Swenson have a serious thing going. Summer said that Chris wouldn't want to pry, so you suggested that Summer ask Karter directly.

Summer had, and swallowed Karter's brag that he banged Melissa over the weekend. A shocked and gullible Summer had texted the word back to you.

Which is entirely as you anticipated. There's no need to ask Adam Karter what he did with a girl, because he always brags of hitting a home run with them.

Then the body swap happened, but you can guess the consequences, because they were part of the plan. Lisa—or who or whatever "Lisa Rickover" now is—passed the news along to the other Rumorati, crediting it to Summer. By the time it got to Alyssa—who would have squelched it as unreliable brag—it was filtering all through the school.

So with one deft move, you had (without leaving fingerprints behind) created a real mess for Alyssa to deal with, and undercut Summer with the rest of the Rumorati. Alyssa will have rapped the other girls across the knuckles fuck up, and they'll be taking it out on Summer.

Which actually complicates your existence now, doesn't it? Even if Summer recovers her footing—and you, as Summer, can certainly do that—it will be awhile before Alyssa or anyone else again trusts Summer or her judgment.

Which means that if you're going to make trouble using Summer, you're going to set up some carefully stage-managed "accidents."

* * * * *

But maybe there was a flaw in your original plan. Because when second period comes, Tina Branson has a question for you.

"Hey," she drawls in her soft, Southern accent before class starts. "You know, about Adam and Melissa?" She turns all the way around in her chair to settle her elbows on your desk. "Did you talk to Adam direct? Or did you talk to Chris?"

All your mental machinery whirls into action. What would Lisa have told Tina and them? Should your reply now match Lisa's? And which answer—Adam or Chris—would do you the most good?

"Chris," you stammer. No time to game it all out—this is what quick calculation and instinct tell you to reply.

"Really?" Tina's eyebrows go up. "What did she say exactly? What did you ask her?"

"It just came up kind of randomly," you quaver. Leave out that it was Lisa's idea that you poke around and ask about Adam and Melissa. "I, um, we were hanging out, and she was talking about things. She mentioned him." Tina stares, so you continue. "She mentioned that, um, Adam and Melissa had—" You hesitate over what verb to use. "Gone out over the weekend."

Tina's eyebrows go up again. "That's all? They just went out?"

"No, she said— Chris was mad about what he did with her. She said, um—" You gulp and break off.

Tina leans forward, her eyes, usually so soft, hardening. "What exactly did she say, Summer?"

You feel yourself blushing to the roots of your hair. "I don't remember exactly. But she sure made it sound like, um—"

"Did she mention them going upstairs at the Warehouse?" Tina's tone has now turned prosecutorial.

"Oh, yes," you say in a small voice. "That's why I was so, you know, like—" You swallow again. "Wow. Because it doesn't seem like Melissa would, you know—"

Melissa sighs and silences you with a wave of her hand. "Alyssa wants to talk to Chris," she says. "So, you know, maybe you should tell Chris what's heading her way." She gives you a prim look before turning back around.

* * * * *

Well, that kind of meeting could blow things up real good, because Chris Yves will deny talking to Summer about Adam and Melissa. But does Alyssa have to meet up with the real Chris Yves?

Hell, now that you think of it, Summer's girlfriend might be an even better place to hide and manipulate things from.

Next: "The Problem Solver" 

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