Behind the Mask

Chapter 1“Trick or treat!” I huffed, slung my bookbag over my shoulders, and set off on a trot along the senior hallway. “I hate Halloween.” My boyfriend, Billy Masters, popular jock and Durkin High’s lacrosse champion, dashed after me, his sharp cologne leaving a vaporous trail behind us. He reached for my arm. “Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you in a bad mood today?” I stopped at my locker to drop off my biology book. I slammed the door shut, locked it, exhaled a long pent-up breath, and faced my ginger-blonde boyfriend. His green eyes looked puppy-dog sad. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the row of lockers. “For starters—” I stopped and shoved off the wall, striding to the middle of the near-empty hallway and clutching my social studies textbook as if it were a shield from all the horrible disappointments in my life. “I failed my English exam today. My father’s been laid off from his job at the steel mill for three months. I’ve got to study for my math and history tests next week. And I’ve got to babysit for the Lindermans’ children tonight.” “It’s Halloween.” He said it with such disdain I thought he was going to scream. He grasped the Friday the 13th Halloween hockey mask he had purchased on eBay last week and turned it backward on his head. A souvenir, he’d told me, autographed by the actor Kane Hodder who’d familiarized the character of Jason Voorhees in subsequent installments. A similar jagged cut in the top left of the mask sold Billy on the eBay purchase. He told me that the actor used the same mask in one of the slasher flicks. I doubted it. But I didn’t argue with Billy. When he had something in his head, you couldn’t change his mind. “What are you doing with that?” I asked. “Look around. Everyone’s wearing their favorite serial killer face.” He twirled me around to face the mass of student’s faces, coming and going from every direction, most of them hiding behind a famous scary Halloween mask. Ted Bundy. Jeffery Dahmer. John Wayne Gacy. Jack the Ripper. Michael Myers. Freddy Kruger. Jason Voorhees. I rolled my eyes at Billy as he held me in his burly arms, wrapping me in mounds of muscle and his overpowering male musk. “I hate Halloween,” I said again. “How can you hate the most exciting holiday of the year? Candy, c*****e, and creepers!” “Why would anyone dress up as a deranged serial killer?” He burrowed his bony chin into my shoulder and kissed my earlobe. His lips were so close to mine. I felt my b***r teepee my gym shorts, hardening at my boyfriend’s heady touch, smell, and animalistic grumblings. “Because it’s the one time of the year that we can be somebody else.” Billy was the most beautiful guy I had ever dated. We had been together for a year. I often asked myself how I had landed him. His arms were Vin Diesel strong, and that geeky grin he flashed me every morning when we’d see each other first thing before class left me weak-kneed and horny. I wanted to lean in right now and kiss him hard on those big, pouty lips. I wanted him to swallow me whole. Locking lips with Billy in front of the entire high school would be my f**k-you salute to every bully who degraded us for holding hands in the hallway or stealing a smooch in between classes. But thinking about my current family and school dilemmas, I didn’t have time to rationalize my fears about what anyone else thought of us. “I’m sorry for being a downer,” I said. “I’ve got a lot going on right now.” He took his basketball-sized hands off my waist and planted them on my sagging shoulders. I smelled the toothpaste and his breakfast banana muffin on his breath when he inched closer and surprised me with a hard kiss, sneaking his meaty tongue into my mouth, sliding it in and out, reaching the back of my throat. I melted into him. “I want to get you alone tonight,” he said, pulling his tongue out and licking the sweetness of the grape juice taste from his lips. “Just you and me. We can have our own party.” His eyes widened, and he winked as he reached down and slipped his thick fingers inside, fumbling with the opening to my boxers and finding the prize. “Not here, Billy.” He closed his eyes and kissed me again, lingering. “Somebody’s excited.” His voice deepened, and he smirked, his trademark sexy, seductive smile that aroused me every time. My body tingled at his playful touch. Billy was the only guy that made me feel different, unique, and wanted. “I want you right now,” he whispered. “I want you too, but not here.” I pushed his hand away and readjusted my growing hard-on. I wish I had Billy’s confidence. He did not care what anybody thought or said about him. Being gay in a small, backwoods town was a challenge for any teenager. If anybody from our class shouted a slur at us when we walked down the hall, holding hands, Billy just had to shoot them his infamous tight-lipped glare, and they scattered like scared cats. “I was looking forward to seeing you tonight,” he said, wrapping his comforting arms around me and pulling me into him for a sword fight with our gazes. He tasted sweet. I hated to break up our small tête-à-tête, but I had to scram. “I have to babysit tonight. I told you last week.” He shrugged as we walked, one of his arms slung over me like an afterthought. “You probably did. But you know my short-term memory.” “I’ll call you tonight before I leave for the Lindermans?” “Can I come over and keep you company?” I pushed the doors open, and we strolled out into the main hallway. Lockers clanged shut, and students’ voices filled the air. “Mrs. Linderman doesn’t allow visitors when I’m babysitting.” He grumbled. “I’m not a visitor. I’m your boyfriend.” I pecked him on the cheek before I turned down the hall and headed to class. “I’m sorry. We can talk on the phone.” “Can I at least drive you to the Lindermans’ house?” “I live a couple of blocks away; I can walk, but thanks.” I turned back and kissed him again. “Get a room!” somebody yelled under a Michael Myers mask, gunfire laughter reverberating off the walls and lockers and down the congested corridor. A gaggle of girly geeks, some wearing scary ghost faces, set off a domino reaction among the other students milling about until the bell rang for ninth-period class. Everybody within earshot protested our PG-rated embrace. Billy was disturbed by the growing crowd. His body bent at an awkward angle, he passed his Jason Voorhees mask to me to hold, turned his back to me and stared out at the sea of bigots. “What the f**k are you losers looking at?” “Not much!” one of the guys from the pack growled back. It was Ryan Zellers, all-around troublemaker and redneck racist, Durkin High’s biggest bully. “How about I rearrange your ugly ass face with my fist, meathead?” Billy yelled, pounding his fist into the palm of his hand. I grabbed Billy’s arm and tugged him backward. “He’s not worth it,” I said, loud enough for the group of students hanging out by their lockers and watching the spectacle to hear. “Listen to your little princess,” Ryan shot back. “And walk away.” “What did you just say?” Billy yanked my hand off his arm and strolled towards Durkin High’s quarterback, hunched forward as if he was about to charge Ryan, who was twice as big and built like a bulldog. It wasn’t going to end well. Luckily, by the time Billy reached Ryan the bell rang, and everybody dispersed in different directions, filling the hallway with a crowd of bodies rushing to their final class. Billy yelled over the energetic voices at Ryan. “This isn’t over, Zellers!” Zellers pulled out his Halloween mask and slipped it over his face. To add insult to injury, Zellers flipped Billy off with both middle fingers while slinging insults at the better Jason Voorhees at Durkin High. Ryan adjusted his Friday the 13th Halloween mask on his long face. “We can both play at this game, Masters!” I walked up behind Billy, who was still standing with his back to me, pumping his fists hard into the palm of his hand. I gently put my hand on the sheetrock muscle of his back. His body was trembling under my hand. “Forget about him,” I said. “Zellers is a dead man.” “He’s not worth it. Let it go.” Billy turned to me and shook his head. “I am the master of disguise, not Zellers. He’ll pay for embarrassing you.” He turned to me and wrapped me in a tight hug. “I won’t let anybody hurt you. I promise.” He took my face in his hands. He smelled sweaty. His eyes darted up and down the hall to see if anyone was watching us before he planted another deep kiss on my mouth. “If Zellers comes near you, let me know.” “I can take care of myself.” “I want to make him pay.” “Boys and their big d***s,” I said, casually but with authority. Billy smiled, satisfied. Before I protested that I wasn’t worried for my safety, especially from Ryan Zellers, Billy closed my mouth with his and kissed me for a long beat until he came up for air and slapped my ass. “I’ll talk to you tonight,” he said, winking and walking off in the opposite direction. “Call or text me any time before you leave for the Lindermans.”