The Book of Masks (Vol. 5)

A Yumi Afternoon Cordial

Previously: "A Short Way with the Warehouse" 

"I heard about it from Yumi," Caleb tells you later, when you call him at home. "She saw you out there, says you almost got your teeth knocked in by someone on the lacrosse team. She wanted to know if you were alright, and if I'd been out there too."

"If she's so worried about me," you retort, "she could have asked me instead of you." Yumi Saito is one of the cheerleaders, and it gives you a thrill to think that a cheerleader was worried about you. But you wish she hadn't checked up on you so indirectly—even if you only know her mostly indirectly, through Jenny Ashton and Lisa Yarborough.

"Sure," Caleb says. "But what I want to know is, what were you even doing out there?"

So you give him the story of how you met up with those guys from the minigolf, and how you all wound up going to the Warehouse. To head off his inevitable question, you tell him you didn't think he'd want to go on account of he seemed to not like Lorenzo too much.

"I'd'a gone," he protests. "If you were. You were gonna need someone to hold your hand."

"And who was gonna hold yours?" you retort. "But Carson and James were out there, they tried holding my hand anyway." In the warm light of a Sunday afternoon, you find yourself resenting them more.

"They were? Huh."

"Yeah," you drawl. "What do you think that was all about?"

There's a pause before Caleb replies. "Does it have to be about anything?"

"Oh, I just mean I was as surprised as you are about them being out there."

"I'm not surprised, Will," he says.

"Then why did you sound surprised?"

"Oh, I was just— Nothing. So did you hang out with them?"

"Some. Mostly. I, um, kind of left early, on account of what Yumi told you happened."

"Yeah, I don't really blame you." There's another pause. "You gonna go out there this weekend?"

"Oh, I don't know." You pretend to be casual about it. "Maybe if there's nothing else to do, and if—"

"Will!" your mom shouts from downstairs.

"Oof, gotta go, that's the lunch bell for me. I'll text you later."

But you don't. Instead, after lunch, you text Yumi Saito.

* * * * *

You actually have her number in your contact list, a fact that surprises you at first when you find it there. Then you remember that you copied it down over the summer, back when you were still going out with Lisa. Back when it looked like you might be sharing more with Lisa than just a common set of friends.

It takes you a dismayingly long time to compose the text you wind up sending to Yumi. And even after you grit your teeth and punch "Send," you recompose it a couple of more times in your head.

Hey [you write] sorry to bust in on u just heard from Caleb that you were asking about me about last night. Just wanted to tell u I'm ok nothing bad happened to me lol.

A dreadfully anxious half hour passes before she replies: Ok great to hear.

You put your phone to your forehead like a cold compress and ask yourself, Why am I such a fuck up?

Because obviously, it now occurs to you, she wasn't the least bit worried about you. She didn't care if you got your face punched or if you got hung from the rafters by one of those red-shirted goons. She just had a spicy piece of gossip she wanted to share around, and asking Caleb if he knew what was up with you last night was just a way of spreading it around with it looking like she was spreading it around.

So now you look like a dumbass, busting in on her and telling her that you're okay. Like it matters to her.

The phone slips from your fingers, and clatters on the desktop where you're sitting. With a sigh you sit back from the desk and balefully regard the mess that covers it.

It is a mess, with your laptop (which is open but asleep) wedged in between stacks of books and papers, discarded game controllers, an external hard drive, and other electronic bric-a-brac. There's even a couple of dishes in there, balancing atop one pile of books and sticking partway out of the middle of another.

You are suddenly irritated with it all, as it seems to represents the accumulated, half-assed mess that is your life.

Well, you can't fix your life very easily. But you can fix up this desk space.

With a sigh you heave yourself to your feet and start by pulling out those dirty dishes.

* * * * *

An hour later not only your desk but your whole room is clean, and you have made two discoveries.

The first is that you feel only about 3% better than you did before, but that 3% improvement is enough to make you feel like you've accomplished some little bit.

The second is that book you bought at Arnholm's last week.

It had somehow made it to the bottom of one of the book piles, and you frowned over it as you tried to remember what it was. On remembering, you tossed it aside while you finished cleaning your room. Then you sat down on your bed and reacquainted yourself with it.

Oh yeah, you think as you run your fingers over it. The pentagram on the spine. Those weird faces at the bottom of the page. The pages that won't turn. The sigil that asks for the sacrifice of some blood. That last bit, you recall, was why you tossed the book aside.

And of course (and fortunately) you remembered why you picked it up in the first place. You were at Arnholm's looking for something to put in the school time capsule.

You never did find anything for that project, and it is due tomorrow.

You could still give this book to Mr. Walberg, but how would explain it, and why you picked it?

I forgot abt time capsule thing for tomorrow, you text Caleb on an impulse. U got ideas I could use?

Only after you hit "Send" do you realize that you accidentally sent it to Yumi, whose text chain was still open, instead of to him. So you quickly add another text: Sorry meant to text Caleb instead.

Lol ok, Yumi texts back almost instantly, which makes you feel much better for some reason.

So much better, in fact, that you text her back asking if she wants to meet up someplace for "drink n snack" before you can give yourself time to change your mind.

* * * * *

The Crystal Cave shares the same building with Arnholm's—they are next-door to each other—so that is where you suggest that you meet. She was surprisingly agreeable, and suggested that you bring your homework with you, as she had some that she needed to do and that an afternoon out would suit her for getting it done. You try to take this excuse she has offered in a good spirit—why would she suggest it if she could have used "homework" as an excuse to turn you down?—without getting your hopes up too high.

She's ordering from the barista when you arrive, and does a double-take as you come up to join her. "Hi Will," she exclaims with a bright but slightly distracted smile. Though your loins freeze at her greeting, they freeze into the shape of a stiff icicle.

Yumi is a small, compact girl who has sometimes been unkindly compared to a fire plug. She has strong legs—which she is showing off this afternoon with some very short shorts—and a compact body with boobs like artillery shells. Her jet-black hair is cut into a short but fluffy bob that bounces lightly when she walks. (And her hips and body bounce lightly too.) After ordering a small, cheap coffee, you follow her into the main dining room, and slide onto opposite side of a wooden booth.

"So you're in the class with that time capsule too," she says as she drops her backpack onto the table with an unladylike thump. "God, you're not trying to compete with some of the people in there, are you?"

"I don't think so," you reply. Then you add, "What people?"

"Kelsey and them. Jesus." She busies herself briefly with tugging math and other text books out of her bag.

"What are they bringing in? Do you know?"

"Don't you? Hasn't Lisa—?"

She catches herself, and almost for the first time that afternoon gives you a long and direct look. Unfortunately, it's a look of regret—almost of horror.

"Oh, sorry," she says.

"For what?" you ask, even though your heart pinged and panged sharply in your chest when she said it.

"Mentioning Lisa. I heard you're taking that kind of hard." She returns to sorting out her books, but shoots you a wary glance.

You shrug. "I don't know what you've heard that makes you think that."

"Don't put such a brave face on it, Will," she says. "If she hurt you, say so. Anyway, if I heard that you're taking it hard, I just mean I've heard you've been asking people why it happened."

"Well, I don't think that means I took it hard," you mumble.

"Sure it does," she says. "It means you're worried it was your fault, which you wouldn't be worried about if you weren't taking it hard." She shows you a brief, sweet smile. "But it's not your fault, it's Lisa's. You just made an assumption you shouldn't have. Get back up on the horse, Will.

"And when I say 'horse'," she adds as though you might have misunderstood, "I mean a different horse, not Lisa."

* To talk to her about your (lack of) romantic life: "Meet Cuties" 
* To change the subject: "The Value of Old Things" 

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