The Book of Masks (Vol. 2)

People Who Won't Lay Down ...

Previously: "The First Day of Another Life" 

The next two periods are taken up with soccer practice: Westside is so sports mad that the school will let one hour of varsity practice a day count as elective credit. Soccer is the only area in Chen's life where he even vaguely resembles a team player, on account of his hyper-competitive instincts, which have won him a position as a center-forward. Such are his resentments, though, that he's not even happy with that, and casts envious eyes on the attacking midfielder position. But that spot belongs to fucking golden boy Marc Garner, who runs the team from it. Still, he is good at it, and Chen likes to win, so he swallows his resentment and even acts like an enforcer for Garner against the troublemakers.

Number one trouble-maker would be the goal-keeper, Lester "The Molester" Pozniak. But you hope he does make trouble today, because "The Molester" has been Will Prescott's tormentor for years, and you'd love to dish him some back.

You change into shorts and cleats and a dirty jersey, but keep the ski cap on—it's Chen's trademark—so you still look like a thug when you take to the field. There's banter on the jog outside, but none of it is directed at you, for no one on the team likes Chen, not even Mendoza, who's there's too as a defensive midfielder.

As you jog, you spot the Molester and Brophy Maddox—his chief lickspittle, on the team and off it—lagging at the last curve around the field. "You need a fucking motorized scooter?" you shout back at them. "Pick it up, Maddox!" He continues to lag right alongside the chunky Molester, falling further behind. When the jog is over, you confront them before the rest of the team. "Fucking pussies, you're short a lap. We all passed you, but here you are."

"Bullshit," snorts Pozniak, and his face, already the color of a beefsteak tomato, deepens in color.

"Everyone lapped these two old ladies, right?" you demand of the rest of the team. No one supports you, but no one gainsays you either.

But Garner—who doesn't like Pozniack any more than you do—takes the opening. "Another lap," he tells them. "If you finish before we're done with the sprints, you can skip those." Pozniak and Maddox expostulate, but only until you step into Pozniak's face.

But the Molester tries getting some back later in the changing room. You're coming out of the shower as he's going in. "Ping pong dong," he murmurs.

You whip around and shove him against the tiled wall. He flies back at you, and would have got you in a bear hug except you meet his pudgy but muscled stomach with a hard blow. He still succeeds in knocking you backward, and it might have gone badly but other guys, also naked and wet, pile in to separate you. This time Garner doesn't take your side, and promises both you and Pozniak extra laps on the morrow.

* * * * *

You're in the math wing when you spot Roth coming out of Muniz's classroom. You don't rush to meet him, though, because someone much more interesting has followed him: Andrea Varnsworth. For a moment only you quail, then follow her.

You can't tread too close behind her, though, on account of the crowds and on account of Steve Patterson, who also came out of Muniz's. You worry he'll waste the break time trying to chat her up, and your heart constricts with fury at the thought. But when Andrea stops and opens a locker he passes her by, though not without a long, lustful look back at her.

You squeeze in by her shoulder. "Hey girl, you still letting Semple hang out at your place?" you ask in a husky voice.

She gives you the briefest flicker of a glance. "He stops by," she says after turning back to her locker. "Sometimes."

"If you wanna be hospitable next time he's in, you know--" You shrug, but it comes out more like a spasm. "Him and me, we buy from the same guy. If you wanna take some off me--" You shrug again. "Semple'd think it's pretty cool of you if you offered him some."

Her lip curls slightly. "I know where he buys his stuff, so don't bullshit me."

"Oh, okay. Offer still stands, though. You ever done some with him? It's good stuff, best stuff. Pretty fuckin' expensive, but if you ever wanna get together, you and me, I can comp you some out of my own stash." Chen is strictly a cigarettes and beer kind of guy, but you'd kill Semple for his bong if it could get you between Andrea's legs.

Now she turns fully toward you, which would be nice if her stare wasn't so icy. "Are you looking to get paid or laid?"

"Both if I can swing it," you blurt out. It crushes you to realize that self-sabotage is a vice you and Chen both share.

"Then get yourself a dress, a makeover, and street corner."

Your guts flash-steams into molten anger. A ladyboy gag? This cunt is dismissing you with a ladyboy gag? See, this is why people are awful, because even a beautiful creature like Andrea will casually throw racist insults at guys just because they're not the right fucking ethnicity.

"It's a standing offer, girl," you softly reply, trying hard to keep the bitterness from your voice. But you can't resist adding, "Both of them."

She makes no move, and you shove your way back into the milling crowds with a curse.

* * * * *

You haven't been worrying about the real Gary Chen and what he might be getting up to as Dane. At worst, you figure, he's lurking somewhere in the school, spying things out and trying to figure out what to do. Not until you duck into the library to retrieve two eighths for Justin do you realize he could cause you trouble even out of sight: The baggie is gone from its hiding place.

It takes you a moment to figure out it must have been Chen; your first thought, naturally, is that some asshole finally stumbled on the hiding place. But after a moment's thought, you realize it's much more likely that Chen stole it. You chew the inside of your cheek furiously, because what are you going to do about it? You can't confront "Dane" about it without tipping off that you know who he really is, and you'd much rather play it like you're Gary Chen, that you've always been Gary Chen, that the stoner who thinks he's Gary Chen is fucking crazy. So you decide to let things slide for the moment.

"Gimme two eighths," you tell Mendoza when you find him down outside the cafeteria.

"Show me some green," he says, for of course he had to buy his six from you.

"I'll show you the color of your balls," you retort. "Two eighths, now. I'll return 'em tomorrow."

"What's the--?"

"I got someone waiting and I can't reach mine," you tell him. "If you find I'm no good for it, you can break my legs."

Mendoza glances around furtively, then the two of you press into a corner so he can slide you two small baggies.

Justin isn't especially gracious when he takes them off you, and his thanks come from the back of his throat rather than his heart. "Pay you after school," he says. "After I talk to Perry."

"Tomorrow's soon enough," you assure him as you squat in the grass next to him. He's got some papers in his backpack, and he quickly and expertly rolls out a joint as you talk. "You seen Matthias around?"

"He's one of your regulars, right?"

"Fuck, no, dude gets his from-- Psht, I dunno, someone with so much weed they can burn it on him. I's just figurin', where Matthias is, that's where Semple and Hennepin'll be too."

"They're back at the portables."

"Ah, fuck 'em." You pound your knee absent-mindedly. Matthias is still on your mind, and you're furiously chasing a thought that refuses to hold still and be identified. It's about more than the eighths that disappeared from the library. "So Small's settin' you up for these?" you say. "The other one for him?"

"Don't think you can get Perry as a customer," Roth says, and accepts the lighter when you proffer it to him. "He's not into it enough to support you."

"I don't need support, this is just, you know, videogame money."

"Must be a nice videogame collection you got, then."

You squint at him. Roth is a mop-headed drug addict on a fast slide to dropping out, but no one thinks he's stupid. And he's quiet, which in your experience means an asshole is alert. "Eh," you shrug. "There's not much profit margin in these things."

Justin huffs and sighs. "That's why you make it up in volume."

You don't know how to reply to that. Then you can't reply, for you've scooped up your bag and are sprinting hard toward the parking lot.

Volume. Your month's supply. In the strongbox under the Jeep. Which the real Chen knows about, same as he knew about the book in the library. He won't have a key to it, but that wouldn't stop him from trying to open it.

And sure enough, when you come to a panting stop you find sticking out from under the Jeep a pair of legs clad in pajama bottoms and bedroom slippers. You drop next to them and punch him in the groin. There's a shout and a clang, as of a head hitting something hard, but you punch again, and again, and you scream curses at him as he tries to flip over to protect his vitals. Once he's curled in a fetal position, you seize him by the ankles and drag him out.

There's a bloody gash across the side of his forehead, and from under his copper-red bangs Dane Matthias glares up at you. You sit on him, knee on his chest, fist on his throat. "The fuck are you doing, Matthias," you demand.

"Getting my shit back," he says. "Give it, or I'll call the cops on your ass."

Next: "Deeper Impersonations" 

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