The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)

Surprise Invites

Previously: "Gossip at the DQ" 

Rabbity. That's what Stephanie called you.

Maybe it's pride talking, but if you're going to ask a girl out, you'd rather do it as your own rabbity self than under a borrowed face or with a borrowed personality.

* * * * *

You finish the brain band in the wee hours of the morning, then tuck it into your book bag before going to bed. The next morning, on the way to school, you stop by the basement to drop it off with your other supplies. The fire is still burning, and you grimly wonder if you fucked up the spell and created an unquenchable magic flame.

You're fidgety all morning. Should you talk to Yumi? Wait for Yumi to talk to you? Should you go looking for her—and Katy—in the gym at lunch? You chicken out, though, which leads to a surprise eighth period.

That's your Astronomy class. Stephanie is in there too—the only class you share with her—and she calls your name and beckons you over just after you sit down.

"We're getting a study group together tomorrow night," she tells you. "I need to bone up in here, wondered if you wanted to join us."

"Uh, sure," you stammer in surprise. "What time? Where?"

"Municipal library around eight. Dunno if we'll stay there. You got a curfew?"

"Eleven."

"Okay. We might move over to The Flying Saucer instead, see where we go from there." She rubs her nose with the back of her fist. "How are you doing on the quizzes in here?"

"Good enough, I think. Got a B on my last one."

"Doing better'n me, we could help each other out." Her gaze cools as you stare back at her. "See you then?"

"Oh. Sure." Too late you realize you've been dismissed. "Yeah and, uh, thanks."

"For what?"

"I dunno. For thinking of me?"

She grunts, and with your face crimsoning you return to your desk. You slump there and chide yourself for being so wrong-footed when you had an idea that something was up. But you were surprised that the set-up came from Stephanie's direction. Maybe her talk with Yumi has shamed her into giving you some kind of chance.

Not until later that night, while absent-mindedly polishing a mask, does it occur to you that you should be thinking about impressing Katy, not Stephanie.

* * * * *

You wake Wednesday morning to find that Yumi has texted you links to some of Katy's social media presences. There are lots of pictures of her with her basketball teammates, both in and out of uniform: at parties, hanging out in classrooms, sprawling on the grass or perched on some rocks out in the countryside. Katy, with her toothy smile and cheerful squint, is the cutest of the bunch—cute as a bug in a rug, as the old expression goes. But she also seems the least impressive, somehow. She looks like the kid sister hanging out with a more mature crowd, especially when set next to Stephanie.

"Any chance of us getting together later?" Caleb asks you at the start of English. "Keith's making a video tonight," he adds, as though that explains why he's so desperate as to ask you to keep him company.

"I've got a date," you reply.

He does a double-take. "You? A date?"

"What's so weird about that?" you snarl.

"Who with?"

"Okay, it's a study date, actually. Me and some other people."

He snorts. "That's not a date, dude."

"With some girls, so it is! Stephanie Wyatt asked me out."

He barks like a seal. "She asked you along," he corrects you. "I could go," he adds as a seeming afterthought.

"No one asked you."

"You saying I'm not welcome?"

You roll your eyes. "Fine. You can go. We're meeting at Madison at eight. But I'm going for the girls, okay? Not for you."

He twines his hands behind his head. "So'm I, Will. So'm I."

* * * * *

You think about warning Stephanie that Caleb will be along too, but when you see her you just reiterate that you'll see her at the library. She nods and returns to her cell phone.

Your nerves play havoc with your appetite at dinner, so much so that your mom asks if you're feeling alright; you tell her a lie about having had a very late afternoon snack. You get some of your homework done after that, then as seven-thirty approaches you give some thought to the study date coming up. Even though it's been twenty-four hours since you were inside Coach Schell's mask, you must have a little bit of a hangover from those hours inside it, for you find yourself remembering, in a vague sort of way, that she was always impressed when a guy dressed up for even a casual meeting. So you spend almost fifteen minutes changing into and out of various shirts and pants, trying to find a look that seems groomed without being churchy, and casual without being sloppy. You finally settle on a white denim shirt and a clean pair of blue jeans. At your bedroom door, in a kind of spasm, you hurl your sloppy ball cap back onto the bed.

"I'm meeting some guys at the library," you tell your parents as you pass through the living room. "Study group." Your dad only nods, but you feel your mom's eyes on your back. She calls your name when you're almost to the garage, and turn to find her hurrying up.

Appraisingly, she glances you up and down. "Who's in this study group?" she asks.

"'M not sure," you admit. "Stephanie Wyatt set it up. She asked me along 'cos we're both in Astronomy, and she needs help in it."

"I see." She pulls at the lines of your shirt, and you flinch under her fingertips. "Your haircut looks good," she says. "You could brush it out a little. And shave." She scratches her chin meaningfully.

You feel yourself blush, and almost demur. You should have told her you were meeting Caleb, then she wouldn't be bothering you this way. But her point's well taken, and you dash upstairs long enough to fluff your hair out a little—you still had hat hair from the day—and to scrape some longish whiskers off your chin and cheekbones.

Then, on a thought, you dash into your bedroom long enough to snatch up the mask you were starting to polish and stuff it into your backpack. You can drop it off at the elementary school on your way to the library, and also check on the fire.

* * * * *

So you're late getting to the library, where you find Caleb loitering in the lobby. "So who are these girls we're supposed to be meeting?" he asks.

"I 'unno. Stephanie's one of 'em. Girl named Katy Conlee. You know her?" Your heart beats hard despite your attempted nonchalance. Caleb shakes his head. "Oh hey." You point up to the mezzanine behind the periodical section, where Kristy Suffolk's head is bobbing over the partition. "I bet they're up there. It's basketball players, most of them, I think."

"Jesus," Caleb mutters, but he follows you.

"You waiting here for Stephanie?" you ask Kristy when you saunter up. She's sitting at a six-person table opposite Meghan Velasquez, a rather horse-faced member of the basketball squad.

"Yeah, hey," Kristy says, and pushes out a chair for you. You hesitate and do a rapid calculation. Six people, three to a side, if you sit next to Kristy, that will put an empty chair on your other flank—

So you take it, but Caleb promptly parks himself in the chair you were saving for Katy. You kick him hard under the table. "Ow," he says, but he doesn't move, so you kick him again. "Quit it," he says as he opens his bag. "Watch where you're putting those boats of yours."

"It's pretty crowded over here," you tell him through gritted teeth. "Maybe you could leave that chair open until someone else shows up?"

Caleb stares at you. Then his eyes go wide, and his mouth forms a perfect circle. "Oh," he says. "Right." He moves over to the other side of the table, next to Meghan. "Mind if I sit next to you?" he asks her. She smiles—a very friendly, very white thing—and inquires after his health. "I'll be good as soon as the swelling in my ankle subsides," he says, and shoots you a grim look.

Your quartet all share fourth-period English, so there's that to talk about. You're surprised at how cordial the two girls are. Kristy is rather reserved, but she solicits your opinion on the Virgil that you've been reading in there, and listens with evident interest to your opinion. Meghan is much bubblier, and laughs at every dry quip that Caleb makes at your expense. Inside of five minutes, you're wondering why you and your friend have been hanging aloof in Ms. Gladstone's class instead of sitting with these two girls.

Stephanie and Katy arrive not long after. "Hey Will," says Stephanie in a tone that's about a hundred times warmer than you've ever heard her use with you before. "Glad you made it." She drops into the chair next to Caleb, which leaves Katy to sit next to you, as planned. You look her up and down as she pulls out the chair and sits.

She's shorter than you would think likely for a basketball player—even a girl player—though she's far from diminutive. Her face is round and pale, though flushed a little, and her eyes shine brightly as she smiles at you. Close up, she reminds you more of a cherub than a chipmunk. Her cheeks are round and dimpled like apples, and her eyes almost disappear when her face rolls up into a smile. "Hi, I'm Katy," she chirps.

"I'm Will," you say. It feels like your heart is sitting on the back of your tongue. "Um, that's a big book bag," you lamely observe of her satchel, which is bulging so hard it looks like the seams will pop.

"Got lots of books," she says, and starts to unpack it.

The first thing that comes out is a hardback library book: The Vodou Spellbook. You catch your breath.

Next: "Semi-Enchanted Evening" 

*
"Table of Contents (Vol. 3)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)"