The Book of Masks (Vol. 2)

Of Masks and X-Men, Part 1

Previously: "This Is Your Brain on Drugs" 

by Masktrix

You wake up in your dorm room, stretching out in a single bed. The buzz has worn off, and the world feels a paler place for it, but at least your mind is clear. You’ve just got to masquerade as this girl until you can get the masks back from Todd.

You lift the comforter and slip out, blinking in the sunlight. The carpet is green and scratchy, but it's the best room in Founders Hall. As prefect, you get a corner room with windows on two sides, and you've got it—and the computer desk, sink, and flat-pack cupboard—all to yourself. Abi’s alarm clock reads 6.25am. No time to waste. You’ve got a full day ahead as her.

You stand and stretch, picking up the sports bag from where you discarded it and tucking it instinctively in the bottom of her dresser, taking the Libra out as you do so. Then, standing with one foot on the sill, one foot on your sink, you climb up to the loose brick and pull it out. Dorm searches never think of going up rather than down, so this is where Abi keeps everything that really matters. A few pills to come up, a few to come down (nothing as good as the stuff Kristen is holding), a few toys and just enough space for the Libra. The book and brick goes back in, and you hop to the ground. Time to comb your hair for the next eon and make yourself perfection personified.

By the time the breakfast bell sounds at 7am, you’re near-immaculate in your school uniform, straightening your tie, brushing the sleeves of your green blazer and picking a loose thread from the school crest on your breast pocket. Most of the school ties are the standard forest green with gold stripe, but the prefects wear green with small crosses, style indicating house. Apart from head boy Marius Hall, you are right at the top of the school social strata. You give yourself one last look in the mirror, posing like a cover girl, before you open the door and let Abi’s fake good-girl persona cloak you.

After rousting the girls of Founders Hall, you enjoy the usual early-morning walk to New Hall, where the lower forms bunk.

“Rise and shine,” you shout into each dorm room in turn, your nostrils catching the offending scent of unwashed gym clothes as students roll out of bed. “Whoever’s socks those are, get them down to the laundry room.” You do a quick mental roll call as you go. “Where’s Beatrice Ross?” you demand when you spot an empty bed.

"The Stables," someone yells. Just where I want to go. You nod and walk out again, heels clicking down the east stairs and toward the main hall. Already students are milling about, some half-dressed and scruffy, others almost as neat as you. You let your natural, resting smile sit as the crowds part for you.

“Can I get an exeat for tonight?” Ryan Hall, a fellow sixth former, intercepts you on your way to the Stables.

“It’s a little short notice, Ryan.” You take the form he’s offering and look at it, then up at him. He’s thin faced, cheeks with pocks from a latest bout of acne. Exeats are a stupid rule Xavier’s stole from British and Commonwealth boarding schools, essentially a hall pass on steroids. You sign it and hand it back. “All right, just this once. Have a great time!”

The honor system means the six prefects have as much power to grant excursions outside the grounds as the house masters. It mostly only applies to the weekend boarders or those who want to go into town past 9pm on a weeknight; about 75% of the school board, either during the week or throughout the entire term. Abi is no fool; she knows she can’t charge everyone for exeats. Extortion needs finesse. Besides, she already knows Ryan’s game: he’s dating someone working at one of the pizzerias and heads out to see her as often as possible, paying for his gas by bringing back McDonalds or Taco Bell and selling it to starving underclassmen at inflated prices.

Ryan dealt with, it’s out of the chaos and into the chill morning. You find yourself at the rear of the main building, shoes crunching on the gravel path around the Master’s Lawn. From here you can look straight out to the river, the view spoilt only by the Greek Amphitheatre. It’s a beautiful sight – a still morn, beads of dew still fresh, a slight mist drifting to filter the dawn’s light, and the wilderness of the county laid bare – there’s nothing between you and Russian Lake, some 20 miles away. Abi can’t wait to get out of here, and already has designs on the University of Miami (and its beaches), but you’re not sure if you’ve seen a better vista in your life. You turn and head toward the Stables, spotting a slight figure with blonde hair as she skulks around the corner.

“Beatrice Ross.” You call out to her, walking over. “You’re up early.”

“Uh, hi, Abi…gail.”

You keep the sweetness in your voice. “It’s OK, Beatrice. You can call me Abi. What are you doing? You know the Stables are off limits until after second period.”

Despite their name, the Stables have nothing to do with horses – you have a horse! – which are these days cared for at the Darin Riding School a few miles past Lattyville, toward McGuffey City. Instead, the ‘Stables’ have been converted into break rooms and study spaces.

“I thought I left my books in the… ah…”

Jesus fucking Christ you are an amateur. I already know what you’re doing. Why didn’t you go around the back of the amphitheatre where it’s tacitly ignored? “Hand it over.”

A vape pen is produced. You look shocked and appalled. “I thought you knew better than this? And don’t these things have cartridges, too, or something?” The rest of the kit is produced. “Oh, Beatrice. You’ve let me down, the school down and yourself down. You know I’ve got to give you detention for this.”

“Please, Abi. I swear I won’t do it again! I got it at the weekend and I was just trying it and…”

You look grave. “I’ll think about it. For now, get to breakfast.” Oh, you’re mine now. I don’t know what I’m going to make you do, but you’re mine. Beatrice gone, you open the door to the Stables and walk up to the study room, where you feel a pair of hands grab you. Spinning around as they entwine around your waist, you nuzzle into the interloper’s neck, even as your hand slips to his chest. His grip rises and runs through your hair, so you push back a little and kiss him hard on the lips. You murmur quietly as you pull back, bodies still close. The Will part of you is disturbed how easy, and comfortable, you found your first make-out session with a guy.

“Good day, sunshine...”

“Too early for the Beatles,” you say to your boyfriend, Chris Fiore, although you consider it a firmly open relationship. Neither of you ever bother with breakfast (you don’t want to end up like Kristen), so that gives you a short window of free time every morning.

“It’s never too early, or too late, for the Beatles.”

“Opinions differ. Here, I bought a gift from an idiot who tried vaping outside.” You hold up the items you confiscated from Beatrice. “Fuck knows what flavors she has, probably bubblegum, but they’re all yours.”

Chris takes the gift with a kiss. “Busy tonight?”

“I’m going to check out where Todd’s setting up for Friday. I want to make sure he hasn’t picked the east glen. You’d be able to see the lights, not to mention hear the music, right up to the main hall.”

“Working on directional sound to prevent that,” Chris says. “Plus I’ve got the keg and cups in my car already. Anything else we need?”

You purse your lips and wrap your hands around his neck, hanging off him a little. “Anyone who’s invited needs to get an exeat by the end of the day. Ideally, from someone other than me, Todd and Lucas. We want the X-Men to think we’re all in town, and if everyone gets their slip from the same people it’ll look suspicious.” The X-Men, Abi’s mind tells you, are the faculty – everyone on campus knows the school has a stupid name.

“K, babe. I’ll handle it.” You suddenly, irrationally, feel a rush of anger, and slap his hands away from your body, shoving him hard against the wall.

“Don’t ever call me babe. You’re mine, not the other way round.” Chris just smiles in a stupor as you push him again with your fingertips, enjoying the nature of your relationship. You press your body and your lips against his one last time, then walk back to the main building before you’re missed.

Today is going to be an interesting experience – you’ve been Abi for about 12 hours and you’ve already kissed a guy, taken drugs, broken multiple traffic laws and hit Kelsey Blankenship with a rubber bullet. But the insane ride you’re now part of can’t distract you from your goal: you need to get the masks.

The question is whether you need to use the Libra. If you took the book down to the chem lab now, and used the machine shop for buffing, you should be able to get a mask or mind band ready for tonight. It might come in useful if Todd is less than forthcoming. And, you suddenly realize, the eighth spell would have unlocked too – maybe it contains a cure for Shelly.

But Abi’s life is just too spicy to ignore. Perhaps you could trust in your current guise, leave the Libra safely hidden, and just convince Todd the old fashioned way...

Next: "Of Masks and X-Men, Part 2" 

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