The Book of Masks (Vol. 1)

The End of a Very Short Project

Previously: "Little Stone Villa of Horrors" 

by Nostrum

Sometimes, a deal is too sweet to be true. This seems to be one. You’re off the hook with that Salopek thing, you can work things out with Caleb, but you won’t have the book anymore, and you'll have to explain things to pissed-off Scott Bickelmeir. You just hope you get more than the two bucks you spent at Arnholm’s.

"Fine," you tell your dad.

"Excellent!" Your father seems to be more excited about the news than you do.

"Then it is all settled." Blackwell drags the book closer to him. "Anything else you may want to speak with me about, Mr. Prescott?"

Your father looks between you and him. "I'd like to negotiate the details of the sale."

"Oh, most certainly!" The professor beams.

"In private."

There's that edge in his voice again, like he's annoyed at having to say it aloud. With a pained smile, the professor rises, and the two of them disappear into the gloomy hallway beyond. It startles you a little to see them mounting the staircase instead of turning deeper into the house toward that living room.

Without the adults to distract you, you are left at the mercy of the library. A discordant ticking sound has been giving you a twitch, and you track it down now to a pair of grandfather clocks, standing shoulder to shoulder but turned perpendicular to each other, in one corner of the room. Their pendulums swing out of phase with each other, and their pulses are irregular. Ticktick. Tick. ... Tick. Tickticktick. ... Tick. Ticktick ... Ticktickclick …

There's also the stuffed animals, some inside bell jars, that dot the alcoves. One of them, resembling a one-eyed orangutan with razor-like teeth, is particularly ugly, and though you quickly turn your back on it, you can't help glancing over your shoulder from time to time, with the impression that it is moving when you're not looking directly at it.

So you try studying the book shelves. You keep your hands to yourself as you do, less from a sense of respect for the professor's property than because you have the odd impression that you might get stung if you touch them. Most of the books are bound in leather, like the Libra that the professor is so prattlingly pleased with, and only a few of them have titles on their spines. These don't exactly reassure you. The ones that you can make sense of—like The Elements of Jacobean Witchcraft—are in fact less disturbing than those titles—like The Voice of Silence and The Book of the Thirty Words—that baffle you.

It's probably only fifteen minutes, but feels like fifty, before your dad and the professor return, and in that time your mood has darkened, and you are becoming unnerved by the atmosphere of the house. But both the adults look very cheerful. On your way home, your dad handles you an envelope. Inside it, twenty $20 bills. You whistle. Four hundred dollars for a book you paid two dollars for. You could buy a new console, or set a down payment for a tablet, or ... Well, you'll just have to give it a good, long think. There's almost too much to take in!

But you also have sinking feeling that you got cheated.

On the way back out to the car, though, you remember that bin of stuff that your dad set aside after making that mask—"Will's Arts and Crafts Project," labelled it. You wonder if you could still do something with that.

--

As promised, after leaving the professor's, your dad takes you to Don’s Donuts, for a late second breakfast.

It’s a tiny place, basically a storefront with some small tables and glass-fronted cases behind a plate-glass window. So there's no dodging things when you enter to find Caleb at the front counter, chatting with Keith, who works there. "Yo, Caleb!" you call.

But he doesn't turn or answer. He only straightens up and says, "Keith, did you hear something?" He looks everywhere but at you.

"Tilley," you retort, "tell this guy to cut the crap and stop acting like a baby."

Keith gives your father an uneasy glance. "The voice you’re hearing—" he starts to say.

Caleb whirls on you. "God damn it, Will, if you’re gonna—!" But his voice dies and his eyes pop when he sees your dad. "Oh. Hey, Mr. Prescott!" He gulps.

"Hi, Caleb." Your dad's tone is chilly but courteous. "Will told me you were thinking of applying at Salopek."

"Uh ... Yeah." Caleb's expression tightens.

"The opening still hasn't been filled. If you put in an application by Monday, I can talk to someone."

Caleb freezes, then seems to vibrate in place. He looks between you and your dad. You grin at him.

"Really?" he squeaks. "But— But I thought you wanted Will to—"

"Will's got himself another job," your dad says, which gives you a hard start. What the fuck is he talking about? "The one at Salopek sounds made for you," your dad continues. "Are you still interested?"

Caleb stares in disbelief. Then he says, "Uh ... Yeah!"

"That's fine, Caleb," your dad says, and claps him on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll be a shoo-in for it."

"You mean I can still apply for it?" Caleb asks, sounding dumbfounded.

"Of course. Just stop by Monday, and put in an application.

Caleb's jaw slackens. Then he hops onto the balls of feet. "Thanks, Mr. Prescott! I— I'll do that first thing after getting out of class! Or before school! What time does the office open?"

They talk a little more, and Caleb bounds for the door. But he's stopped by a word from your dad."You need to go now?" he asks. "Why don't you stay, hang out with us a bit?"

"Um—" Again Caleb freezes, and his Adam's apple bobbles as he looks between you and your dad.

So you blurt it out for him. "Caleb and me had a fight, and he's still mad at me."

"A fight? What about?"

You hold Caleb's eye as you answer. "You know that time capsule project we had for class? Caleb wants to dig it up so he can get his contribution back out. I told him I wouldn't help."

Caleb flushes, first to a hot pink, then to a bright red. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Keith ducking behind the counter.

"Really? What's the story?" your dad asks.

You ignore Caleb's hot glare. "We have to write a paper on what we contributed, and why, and Caleb decided he had to change his contribution because he doesn't want to get in trouble. He put in a thumb drive full of porn."

In the silence that follows, the rumble of traffic competes with the buzz of a very large fly trying to bore its way through the plate-glass window.

"Okay," your dad says. "I can see why he wouldn't want to admit that in a school paper. But why does he have to dig up the capsule?"

"Because," Caleb blurts out, "I don't want our teacher checking back and finding out what I really put in. I was going to put in something else, and write a paper on that."

"Well, there's other ways of handling it," your dad says. "Other ways than breaking into school property. Are you mad at Will because he wouldn't help you?" Caleb kicks at the floor. "What if he figured out another way to help?"

Caleb mutters something. Probably something like That's fucking unlikely.

"Did you dig the capsule up yet? No? Then I'd say Will saved you from making a mistake. Now come on. This is no reason for the two of you to be mad at each other. Shake on it like gentlemen, be friends again. Together you'll figure out another way of getting out of this little jam."

Caleb winces, but he puts out his hand. "Pax?" he mutters.

"Pax, bro." You grasp his hand and pull him into a hug. He stiffens, but returns it.

After that, the three of you sit at one of the tiny tables to eat donuts, drink coffee, and talk, with your dad explaining the job at Salopek. It sounds mostly like manual labor—moving things, taking inventory, assembling and reassembling machinery—but Caleb questions him closely and doesn't seem put off by the fact that he'd be using his hands more than his brain. He just figures it'll look good as an item on a resume, and your dad agrees.

"Oh," your dad adds, "do you know Sean Mitchell? I think he goes to Westside."

"I know Sean," Keith pipes up from the register, where he's been listening.

"Dude, I've pointed him out to you before," he tells Caleb when the latter shakes his head. "Big blonde football player."

Caleb shrugs. You get a cold feeling around your shoulders. You had a run-in with a big blonde football player yesterday ...

Well, it turns out your dad was asking because Sean also works at Salopek, and Caleb would likely be working with him. Caleb assures your dad that he gets along with almost everybody. It might be your imagination, but it seems like he shoots you a little smirk when he says it.

But peace seems to be restored between you and your friend, so the visit is a success. You thank your dad for his help as you drive home.

"Anytime," he says. "And I mean anytime. You have any kind of trouble, you come talk to me. I’m always looking for you, son."

You wonder why he emphasized that bit.

--

Later that afternoon, as you're killing time in your bedroom, your cell dings with a text. It's one you were afraid of getting.

It's from Scott Bickelmeir, asking if you've got time to talk.

That's all for now!

*
"Table of Contents (Vol. 1)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 1)"