The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)

Bait and Baiting

Previously: "Kelsey, Night and Day" 

You're at your locker loading up the books for your first three classes when you feel fingertips on your shoulder, and wheel to find Seth leaning against the locker next to you. You have to raise your eyes to look him the face, as he has nearly five inches on you. Something goes quietly sploosh down in your panties.

"Hey," he says in a gruff but smiling voice. "Wanna hang out at lunch?"

"Ooh, I'd love to!" you squeal.

"You got fourth lunch?"

"That's when I eat." You feel yourself grinning so hard your cheeks threaten to split open. "Technically it's my study hall period, but that's when I take my lunch."

He nods. "Cool. Whatcha got third?"

"AP World History." Of course you have to mention that it's "AP."

"Alright, I'll meet you in front of your classroom."

"Oh, that's sweet! It's Mr. Walberg's room."

"Great, see you then."

Seth touches your shoulder, then pushes back into the creeping mass of students squeezing through the hallway like a muddy river. You crane your neck to watch him go. He's wearing his letterman jacket, which both pads his torso and adds contours to it, his tight blue jeans emphasize his butt. You have the urge to bite him all over.

* * * * *

In first-period Sociology (with Mr. Walberg also; it's the class you shared with Kelsey) you hang your backpack off the back of your chair, shrug yourself out of your jeans jacket, and sit down sideways in your desk. You stretch your bare, sexy legs out across the aisle, locking your ankles, and rock back into your seat while turning to Amanda Ferguson, who sits behind you, with a bright grin.

"Guess who I ran into at the coffeeshop yesterday, and we hung out together all afternoon and evening?" you flute at her.

Amanda—a sour, frigid bitch with a pale and powdered face under dark bangs, behind black-frame glasses—flares her nostrils and lowers her brows. "I can't wait for you to tell me."

"Well, you'll find out at lunch," you gush. "He stopped by just now at my locker, and we're going to eat together." You rock back and forth in your seat, like a seesaw, lifting and dropping your feet in counterpoint to your shoulders. "He's got his own table he eats at, but I'll make sure you get a good look at him."

"That sounds nice, Kelsey."

You dimple at her. Then your attention is caught by someone across the room in a line behind her.

It's Will Prescott, sitting next to Caleb Johansson. Caleb is absorbed in his phone, but Will is staring at you with a gaping look of astonishment on his face.

What a mess, you think. Dressed that way, in a sloppy t-shirt and sloppy cargo shorts, with a sloppy and battered white cap pulled down low over his rudely chopped-back hair, he might be borderline presentable, even cute, if he was in the sixth grade. But as a high school senior he looks awkward, even retarded.

You make a face back at him, and turn forward in your seat.

Just in time for Laurent Delacroix to drop into the desk in front of you. Your heart races a little.

Laurent is the captain of the wrestling squad. He is part-Iroquois (or so you have heard) with a dark tan and coffee-black hair shorn back in a lush buzzcut. Big muscles, too, and he is handsome in what would be dark and brooding if he didn't like to smile so much in a way that makes him look boyish.

He knows it, too, and is a total man-slut.

He turns halfway in his desk now, to give you a cheeky grin that sinks a deep dimple into his cheek.

"So how was your weekend, Kelsey?" he asks in a baritone voice that verges on bass.

"It was great," you reply. Did Seth brag online like I told him should? you wonder. Because Laurent is looking at me like he knows I got a hot, hard screwing.

"She hung out with someone special on Sunday," Amanda says from behind, speaking over your shoulder.

"Oh?" Laurent's grin deepens. "Who?"

"She'll show us at lunch," Amanda says.

"I'm eating lunch with him today," you say.

"What lunch do you have?"

"We're taking fourth lunch."

"She always takes fourth lunch," Amanda says.

"Well, that's his lunch too," you snap over your shoulder at her.

"Well, I got fifth lunch," Laurent says. "Will I see you and him coming out of the cafeteria? Or are you and him gonna eat somewhere else?" He lowers his face and lifts his eyebrows. "Someplace private?"

"Cafeteria," you insist, but feel yourself turning pink.

Laurent cocks a skeptical, knowing eyebrow.

"We'll see," he says with a sly grin before turning back around.

Despite yourself, you feel nettled by his attitude, and turn around to mouth What the fuck? at Amanda. But she only smirks back while cocking a knowing eyebrow of her own.

Whatever. You start pulling out books to get ready for class.

* * * * *

You put on your best professional "Kelsey" face during the morning. That means raising your hand to answer every question that Mr. Walberg asks in Sociology and in third-period History; and challenging almost every point that Mrs. Goretsky makes in second-period Classical Literature. Of course you ignore the smirks and eye rolls from the other students, except those from Roy Nelson and Dominic Kleason in the English class: there, you indulge the luxury of giving those lunk-headed football players (who tormented you during your sophomore year) some withering glares.

But all morning long you can't stop thinking about the lunchtime to come.

You are almost bursting with suppressed anticipation after third, as you're standing outside Mr. Walberg's class, peering into the churning hallway crowd for Seth. Brooke Galloway and Lisa Yarborough are with you: you caught them by the arm while leaving the classroom and told them to wait up because you were waiting for someone. You are watching them out of the corner of your eye when Seth slides out of the crowd.

"Hey!" you greet him with your brightest smile, and briefly touch his back. "We eating with your friends or with mine?"

"Thought we'd eat with Gordon and the guys." He nods briefly at Lisa and Brooke, who are looking startled. "You bring your own lunch?"

"Yeah, i have to stop at my locker. It's on the way."

The crowd pushes him into you, and you thrill at the touch of his body against yours again.

And then he lays a light arm around your shoulder to steer you into and protect you from the crowd, which is even more amazing! You cast just the quickest glance back at Lisa and Brooke, as though to say, Sorry, can't help it, my lunch date is here, and aren't you jealous?

He pulls you through the hallway, leaving Lisa and Brooke behind, and hovers next to your locker as you put your bag in and pull your little designer lunch bag out. He puts his mouth down near your ear.

"I set it up with 'Chelsea'," he says in a low voice, barely audible over the grumble of the crowd. "At lunch she's gonna ask you to help judge the tryouts. Say yes."

"The tryouts are right after classes. I have tennis practice!" you protest.

"So skip. Get an excused absence. I want you watching them, Will," he murmurs. "You're gonna be picking out some faces, remember?"

You sigh.

"I'll talk to Coach Acuna. But you're kind of springing this on me."

"What did you think Chelsea wanted to talk to you about yesterday, sending all those texts?"

"I know why she wanted to talk to me. And here I am." You grin at him.

"And also about the cheerleaders."

You sigh again.

"You should have said something to me yesterday. Oh, never mind." You shove Kelsey to the back of your head. "I'll get it to work. But I'm not gonna make it easy for Chelsea when she asks."

"I already asked you, Will," he growls into your ear.

"And I already said yes. But I'm still gonna have to make it look believable."

The line is snaking out of the cafeteria, but instead of taking position at the end, Seth leads you in and right up near the front. There, he cuts in front of a freshman.

"Hey, my man," he tells the kid with a meaningful wink. "Thanks for saving my place for me." The kid looks startled, and so do the students behind, but they all shrink under Javits's quick glare. You smile to yourself as you squeeze in next to him, so as to be near him, and to be seen with him, rather than to get yourself anything to eat, and you follow him over to the alpha table after he's got his tray. You pass the table where your friends—Amanda, Anthony Kirk, Geoff Mansfield, and others—are sitting, and you smile at them as you pass. You feel them following you with their eyes.

The alpha table is much emptier since the bloodbath that cleared out the cheerleader squad, and Seth has no trouble swaggering to a spot in the middle, directly across from Gordon and Chelsea, and right next to Steve. Gordon gives you a quick, dull, once-over; Steve's glance is more penetrating, but hardly more interested; Chelsea looks momentarily startled before putting on a game face. Kendra and Gloria freeze, staring at you before quickly looking away, while Maria Vasquez—Chelsea's best friend—continues to slowly chew her food while looking vaguely into the infinite distances of empty space.

And you puff up despite your nervousness at being so thrust onto the highest pedestal in the school.

You have really arrived, you and Kelsey Blankenship both. Sitting at the alpha table with the alpha crew, next to one of the most eligible athletes, who is your proto-boyfriend, and wearing the body and face of one of the richest girls in school. When Seth lays a strong, warm, strong palm on your bare thigh under the table, you almost liquify with glee.

Next: "In the Mood for a Feud" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 5)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)"