The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)

In the Mood for a Feud

Previously: "Bait and Baiting" 

Chelsea may have ordered her doppelganger to invite you to the cheerleader tryouts this afternoon, but the doppelganger doesn't seem in a mood to immediately obey. While you are greeting everyone else at the table with a gleeful smile, she keeps darting looks at Seth with an expression like she's trying to swallow a live toad—and it's not going down easy.

But finally, after you've got your lunch—a chicken salad and a croissant—unpacked, Chelsea swallows hard and with rebellious eyes says, "Cheerleader tryouts are this afternoon."

You look at her, and feel Kelsey's gorge rising within. But though you will take your cues from Kelsey, you know that you have to be the one in charge.

So you smile back tightly at her. "Yes, I've heard rumors," you say.

"They're supposed to be private," Chelsea continues. "In the gym, right after practice, with only me and, uh, Coach Tesla watching. And the rest of the squad, of course."

"You mean what's left of it?" you ask with sweet poison, and pointedly avoid glancing in Kendra's and Gloria's direction. (Maria is off in her own world, and barely counts as being present anyway.)

Chelsea gives you a quick, dirty look. Then after another glance at Seth, she takes a deep breath and says, "You can come watch too."

"Oh, that's sweet of you, Chelsea," you reply after a calculated pause of surprise. "But I've got tennis practice after school."

She looks relieved. But then she catches Seth's eye, and that same look of loathing crawls back onto her face.

"Well, you can skip, or get an excused absence, can't you?"

"Why would I want to?"

Almost you feel bad for the fake Chelsea, as she buckles under the silent pressure being directed at her from the basketball player sitting next to you.

"I'd really like for you to come, Kelsey," she says through gritted teeth. "I'd like your advice, your input, on the candidates."

The cafeteria continues to roar with conversation, but the alpha table has quieted. The other girls aren't saying anything, and even the guys are listening closely.

You have a forkful of chicken salad halfway to your mouth, but you drop it to give Chelsea a direct stare back.

"The fuck are you talking about, Chelsea?" you demand, and let the brake off a little from Kelsey's instincts. "Since when the fuck do you want to hear input from anyone? Since when the fuck did you ever want to hear input from me?"

"Well, I'm asking you now." She is turning a bright pink.

You stare, then shake your head. "This is a bad joke."

"Kelsey—"

"What the fuck is this, Chelsea? You know why I'm not on the squad now? Because you schemed and you cheated—you fricking cheated, Chelsea!—to get your friends on the squad, not because they were good but because they were your friends! You were ruining the squad, you were going to burn it the fuck down just so you could get your way with it!"

The world blurs and spins as Kelsey escapes the cage you had her in.

"So now, after it's burned down around you, you have the fucking gall to ask for my help rebuilding it? When I'm not even on the squad, and you wouldn't even let me tryout to get back onto it? Jesus!"

Seth puts his hand on your arm. "Kelsey—"

"Don't take her side!" you screech at him, and jerk away. "God! And another thing, Chelsea!" you hiss as you scoop up your food and stand up. "There's all kinds of really nasty stories going around—fucking bullshit stories—about how Eva and Jessica got kicked off the squad. About that— the— Well, I know how those stories are getting started, how they're spreading around! Go! Fuck yourself, Chelsea!" Tears spring into your eyes, blurring your vision. "Go spend the rest of the fucking year fucking yourself!"

The attention of the whole cafeteria is now on you, and a chorus of "Oooh!" breaks out as you storm from the table. It's humiliating but exhilarating both to have hundreds of kids watching as you stride from cafeteria, sniffling and with tears welling up in your eyes. Out in the hallway you pat the tears away and glare around, trying to figure out where to go. The answer comes through instinct: Mrs. Wendt's classroom.

Mrs. Wendt—a rawboned, middle-aged teacher who is rumored (but not confirmed) to be a lesbian—is the school's Student Council adviser, and has been a kind of mentor to Kelsey since her freshman year. Already twice this semester, when Kelsey got pissed at her friends, she has retreated to Mrs. Wendt's room during fourth period, when the teacher has her own lunch break. You rub away as much of your anger as you can before you get to her room, but you give the teacher, who is sitting at her desk with a sandwich as she looks over her grade book, only a glance before striding to the back corner of the room and falling into a desk. There you busy yourself setting out the upswept remnants of your meal without looking around.

A moment later Seth comes into the room, and pulls a desk up close to sit beside you. You keep the side of your face to him, even as he leans in close to put his close to yours.

"That was quite an exit you made," he says in a low voice.

You return him a twisted smile. "You liked it?"

"It was something."

"Don't worry, I'm not mad at you." You gleam at him. "I'm never mad at you."

"Still—"

He scoots the desk in, closing the gap between you, and leans forward to rest his forearm on the seat back behind you, and he lays his other arm on the desktop before you, trapping you inside your desk. His knee rests against yours.

"I don't like seeing you upset," he says.

You lean forward to put your cheek close to his, and turn your head so that Mrs. Wendt won't be able to see your mouth. In a near whisper, you ask, "Who's upset? You? Or Seth?"

"Both of us," he murmurs back.

"That's really sweet of Seth," you reply. "It's the kind of thing that'll really put us over as a couple. And don't you worry, Chelsea. It was just an act. I'll be at the tryouts. No one could keep me away!"

"After that scene?"

"I'll just come in and be totally businesslike. Now kiss me. No!" you interrupt yourself. "Start sharing my chicken salad with me. Use your forefinger to scoop some up, and suck it off, while I—"

He gets a gleam in his own eye, and does as you direct. With a long, strong finger he scoops up a wad of chicken salad and puts it in his mouth, sucking it slowly off the end as he withdraws his finger. You grin at him, and together this way you finish eating together.

* * * * *

"You won't fucking believe what happened to me at lunch," you huff as you drop down at a table in the library, where Christine Coolidge and Jamie Bornholm are already waiting. It's fifth period, and Kelsey shares a study hall with them, along with Lisa Yarborough, who is late showing up.

The two girls, who also typically sit at Kelsey's table with her and her friends during fourth period lunch, wore guarded expressions when you came in, and they exchange a guarded glance now. "We saw you leave," Jamie says with careful neutrality.

"Pff! I had to! You know what happened? Chelsea—!"

You snap your mouth shut and regroup. Chelsea Cooper asked me to help pick the new cheerleaders at the tryouts! does not sound like the kind of thing to get mad about. As you organized your thoughts, you busy yourself unpacking the morning homework you need to do, and the afternoon homework you need to check.

"You know how she ruined the squad," you say when you resume. "It all goes back to the— Well, I wasn't going to put up with it, which is why I quit! Which is what she wanted, but fine! So I gave her the satisfaction!" You fume over the way this is not going the way you want it to. "But get this! After spending the whole semester destroying the squad, she has the—" You glance around the library, then lean across the table to hiss in a tight voice. "The fucking gall to ask me to sit in the tryouts this afternoon and help her fix things! God!" You straighten up and glance over as Lisa joins the table. "Can you believe the nerve? She fucks things up, then asks other people to come in and fix them for her!"

"Oh my God," Jamie murmurs in shocked sympathy. But Christine is more reserved. "At least she asked you," she says.

"Well, she can go bite on a dick!" you snarl. You shoot a quick glare at Lisa, who is looking flummoxed.

"What are we talking about?" she asks. You go back to setting up your books and notebooks and pencils and pens while Christine fills her in. "Wow!" Lisa gasps at the end of it.

Airhead! you snarl to yourself. Then you catch yourself and look at Lisa.

This is your first time really looking at Lisa through Kelsey's eyes, and thinking about her with her brain.

It's really shocking how dumb she is, Kelsey thinks. Cows are sharper than her. Cows, in fact, are a comparison that comes naturally to Kelsey when thinking of Lisa. Like a cow, Lisa is docile, sweet-tempered, passive, and will move wherever you want if you poke them hard enough with a sharp stick. She only differs from cows in that she walks on two legs, dresses with minimally acceptable style, and doesn't smell like shit. Kelsey puts up with her only because the Yarboroughs and the Blankenships are country-club friends.

Yet Kelsey still thinks that Lisa was too good for you.

But the depths of Lisa's stupidity are only more revealed when she says, "Oh, I wanted to ask. Geoff is wondering when it'll be okay for Martin to come out to your house again."

Next: "Kelsey's Chaos" 

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