Masked Magic

Chapter Two

Despite some leftover nerves and being convinced that it isn't quite over, and that wasn't even really the beginning, I'd left my encounter with the unknown girl long behind. I made a mental vow to shove it far back in my memory, pretend it had never happened, and never try to save someone again.

"Did you get some good pictures last night?" Mom asks at breakfast. In honesty, I hadn't really bothered to look at them when I got back. I was far too focused on what had interrupted my photography session, and found that the whole situation made quite a good novel scene when I scribbled it down in my journal. I had an especially fun time describing her on paper- that always goes over much smoother than my observations on paper. I made a mental note to elaborate on the book idea later. Since I don't feel like explaining all this to her, I just nod along through a mouthful of Honey Nut Cheerios.

Though I'm thankful for some sort of distraction, school is never a happy thought. Nevertheless, I climb onto my bike, and make the ten minute trip to Weston High. Continuously reminding myself that I only have three months left of my high school career has sort of lost its charm, and nothing has been able to make my weekdays feel like less of a chore. Or torture chamber.

Locking my bike to the rack by the entrance, I realize just how early I am, but better early than late. I've been late once, but decided I was better off simply skipping that first block than walking in ten minutes after the second bell rang. Mom wasn't exactly thrilled when she heard I had cut class (although, admittedly, she had loosened up a bit when I told her the situation). Ever since then, I made a point to be on time for everything, and on time meant fifteen minutes early. I hoist my back onto my shoulder and head towards my locker.

People crowd around me in the hallways, but I just push pass all the groups that seem to be glued to the same spot every morning, making myself small as I slip through gaps I somehow manage to find. Each day, everything is a carbon copy of the day before, so much so that it's kind of eerie. One would have thought I'd take the time to learn some of their names, or at least know what each group represented, but I prefer to stay out of the social circuit. I heave a sigh of relief when I reach locker number 183 in my secluded corner of the senior hallway.

"BENNY!"

I flinch, shutting the locker I had just retrieved my books from. No matter how many times Garrett and Spencer scream my horrible nickname in the morning, I never get less mortified. I turn toward their voices slowly, but they're upon me like wolves before I can even completely face them, let alone respond. Spencer smacks me with the backpack that hangs loosely off one shoulder, while Garrett slings an arm across my shoulder with a grin.

"Hey, guys," I say meekly, in a voice considerably quieter than theirs, and they crack up. Apparently, my response was hilarious.

After their initial, daily entrance, they always quiet down, and today is no exception. They don't quite reach my volume level, but it does reach what I deem as nearly acceptable. They lean comfortably against the lockers beside mine, shoving their hands in their pockets, looking slightly smaller, but still appearing more comfortable than I am.

The odds of someone- even the most socially awkward, anxiety ridden teenager ever- having no friends at all are slim to none. You would virtually have to never talk, avoid interaction at all costs, and basically never lift your eyes from the floor. Naturally, though, I didn't realize any of this for my first two years in this town. At that point, I really did have no friends, but that was because I didn't actually go to school most days and sort of followed the necessary criteria listed above (the floor did get quite boring after a while, by the way. Another reason that I ended up with this disease of friendship). But once I settled in, and managed to get full sentences out in public without cringing away from others, Garrett and Spencer came along, deciding they needed a third anyway. The main thing I appreciate is that they act as though I've lived here all along. They treat me the same, and they don't ask questions.