Don't believe everything you hear, Clara.
At his statement, his friends sitting behind him laugh, and I blink in surprise. I'm sure that he sees my confusion, but he just gives me a secretive smile and returns to his seat with his slouching friends. I lower my eyebrows and blink a few more times, as if doing so will help clear my head, and turn slowly back around to face the front of the class as the teacher starts talking.
I don't know how I make it through the rest of the day. Most of my classes are with at least one of my friends, usually Flynn or Merida. Jack is in several of them as well, but never acknowledges any of us. In my last class, Flynn takes a seat right next to me, with a resigned smile plastered on his face.
"What's up?" I ask, trying to sound innocent. I'm 97% sure that he's just as annoyed and confused as I am as to Jack's behavior.
"Nothing," he responds quickly, turning his face slightly away from me.
"Don't give me that, Flynn. I'm not an idiot," I retort. My daily reserve of patience is running on empty, and I'm tired of having to drag things out of people.
He sighs and looks up at the ceiling. "Have you noticed how weird Jack is acting today?"
"Ugh. Have I? Please, how could I not notice that?"
He gives me a wry smile. "He does this occasionally, but I don't see the point of it. I don't know what his problem is, sometimes. Actually, I know exactly what it is. He's too busy trying to make people like him. It's why he changed his hair, it's why he acts like he doesn't care. He…" Flynn trails off as Jack enters the classroom with the slouchers, and raises a single skeptical eyebrow at him.
"Hey," I nudge Flynn's shoulder. "Do you think we could get him to talk to us?"
"I doubt it," he says, but there's no mistaking the mischievous glint in his eye.
"How much will you give me if I get him to say something?"
"Um…how about a quarter?"
"Make it two quarters, and you've got yourself a deal." I turn around in my chair to face Jack and his friends, who are laughing at some joke that one of them just told. I keep watching them until they all notice me, and then I smile the nicest smile I can muster.
"Jack, who are your friends? I don't think I've met them yet." I fix my gaze on one of Jack's companions and explain, "I'm new here, and I'd like to meet as many people as possible." The kid just stares back at me blankly, and I don't know why he's so distracted, so I turn back to Jack, who's giving me a half glare, half stare.
"Jack?" I ask, breaking him out of his strange look.
"Oh, yeah, um…sure. So this is Colin, this is Dirk, that's Jason, and over there's Ben," he says in a halting voice. As he lists off the names of his companions, I know that I'll never be able to tell them apart. They dress too similarly to make the effort of remembering. But I smile sweetly at them anyway. "Guys, uh, this is Clara," Jack doggedly continues, "she's um…she's…"
"I'm his Music Exchange partner. We're writing a song together." The moment the words leave my mouth, I know I've made Jack mad. His eyes narrow and become slits of blue ice. His friends all turn to give him looks varying from scorn to a kind of malevolent interest.
Jack shrugs defensively. "What? My mom made me do it. You don't think I actually care about that, do you?"
I turn around quickly, trying to hide my own anger now. Jack's become a wimp. He can't even stand up to his friends and be himself. Flynn leans across the open space between our desks and murmurs in a low voice, "What you just did deserves more than two quarters. I'll give you any amount of money you want."
"Ten bucks."
"Done."
We smile at each other, but he can tell that I'm still upset, so he leaves me alone. I don't pay attention to the lesson at all, but instead keep thinking about Jack's sudden change of personality. Is he like this because he was bullied? Did he really feel the need to put on a mask? It strikes me then that some of his 'friends' are the younger brothers of the guys who used to bother him after school, all those years ago. How did he end up hanging out with them? Why does he want to? I'm still pondering these questions when the final bell rings, and most of the class jumps out of their seats and head towards the door. I stay sitting and wait for the room to clear. I'm not in any hurry, and I don't want to get anywhere near Jack. Not while I'm still mad at him.
Once the room is empty, I stand up and retrieve my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder as I stride through the open door and down the hall to my locker. I've only visited it once today, and I didn't have the time then to organize it, so I start putting the shelves in order. Anna has a drama meeting after school that will take a while, so I'm not in any hurry. As I'm placing each of my textbooks neatly in a row, a hand comes to rest on the locker next to mine.
"Sorry about that," a familiar voice says. "I…uh….I didn't mean what I said about our project…" Jack trails off, obviously waiting for me to respond. But I don't. I just keep on organizing my locker, placing books, notebooks, and binders into their proper places.
"Clara, please turn around," he says, but I continue to ignore him. "Seriously, Clara, just talk to me."
I spin around to face him, our faces just inches apart. "What do you want, Jack? Do you want me to tell you that it's okay that you don't care about what we've been working on for two months? Do you want me to tell you that it's okay that you acted like a total jerk? Is that what you want?"
He flushes with anger. "I acted like a jerk? You forced me to!"
"I did not!"
"You did. And you know that you did. Don't lie to me. You were trying to embarrass me."
"Please." I roll my eyes. "You were doing a good job of that on your own. I was trying to get you to acknowledge me. To get to you act like the Jack that I know."
He places his other hand on my locker door, trapping me just like Pitch once did. "Clara, you can't judge me. You don't know me or why I do what I do."
"You wanna bet?"
My eyes widen as I register what I just said, and he narrows his eyes suspiciously. "What?"
I want to take back my words, but I stand my ground instead. "I know exactly why you're acting like this. You want to look cool, I get it. You want to take back all those times that you were bullied about your hair and your friends and your personality by fitting in now, and acting like you don't care. You act like this because the one person who knew about it left you without saying goodbye, and it's torn you apart. You act like this because you don't know how to be yourself without Elsa." As I speak, his eyes get wider and wider, and his mouth becomes one thin line.
"How do you know that?" he whispers. I think Jack whispering is scarier than if he were yelling at me right now.
"I hear things, and I put two and two together." I know my explanation is a weak one, but I just cross my arms, glare at him, and wait for him to say something.
When no words come, I turn back around to remove his and Sophie's letters from my backpack, then brush his hand off of my locker door and slam it shut. "Here," I say, practically throwing the envelopes at him, "these are letters from Elsa. For you and Sophie." I begin to stalk away, but I turn around and add, "I think that she would be really disappointed in you if she could see you now."
I walk down the hallway towards the main doors without looking back. When I turn the corner, though, I sneak a peek back at Jack, now a small figure at the other end of the hall, and see that he hasn't moved since I left him, and seems to be reading one of the letters. My anger and frustration is now colored with a slight feeling of victory. I think I won this fight.
My phone buzzes as I pass through the doors, a text message. The screen shows an unknown number, but I know who it is.
P – Ah, ah, ah, Elsa. Tread carefully.
I don't mask my feeling of disgust and hatred. Pitch is the last person I want to think about right now, let alone talk to. But it's nice to have someone to direct my anger at.
E – Slimeball. What do you want?
P – I want you to tell Jack your little secret.
E – And if I don't?
P – I'll tell him myself. I'm getting bored with this little game.
E – Screw you.
After a few minutes, there's still no response, so I stuff my phone into my pocket and continue to the parking lot, where I lean against my car to wait for Anna. While I wait, I take out the notebook that Jack and I had been using to write the song, and flip through until I find another one of my poems.
We Wear the Mask
Paul Laurence Dunbar
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, -
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!
I don't know why I'm not more concerned about Pitch's threat. Maybe because I've been living for so long under the knowledge that I'll have to tell Jack eventually, it doesn't make much sense to keep holding out. At least, not after what happened today. How can I be mad at Jack for wearing a mask and being someone he's not, when I'm doing the exact same thing?
"Elsa!" someone calls me from across the lot.
My head shoots up, practically giving me whiplash, and I see Anna running towards me from across the parking lot. Her ecstatic smile quickly vanishes as she wilts under my glare. "Anna. You can't call me that in public."
She claps her hands over her mouth in alarm. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…" Her head moves quickly back and forth as she searches the parking lot for anyone who may have heard, but we're the only ones. I put my hands on my hips as I watch her, but I can't help but crack a smile.
"Lucky for you, it's not that big of a deal. No one's around. And besides," I shrug, "it looks like I'll be dropping this act sooner than I thought, anyway."
Her eyebrows go up in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Just look," I say, tossing my cell phone to her. She quickly scans my conversation with Pitch and hands the phone back to me with a worried expression on her face.
"Elsa, how does Pitch know what you're up to so fast? Do you think he's spying on you?"
Hmmm. I never thought of that before. How does he know what I'm doing? "That's a good question. I guess I always assumed that it just made sense, it adds to his creepiness…" I trail off. How does Pitch know the things he does?
"I can't think of anyone who would be spying on me, do you?" I ask her.
Anna just spreads her hands wide in a gesture that conveys "I have no idea," and then turns to open the driver's side door. "Gimme the keys. You have to let me drive home. I need the practice, and I won't kill you, I promise."
I sigh. "I knew this would be coming. If you go over the speed limit at all, I'm making you pull over and switch seats immediately."
She just rolls her eyes at my warning. "Whatever. I'm a good driver. Just watch."
"Seriously, though, don't kill us."
"Elsa, you're so distrustful," Anna says as she swings into the car. She stars the car and backs out of the parking space easily, but when she passes through the lot, I see Jack leaning against his car, watching us drive away. His face looks strangely blank, controlled, but his eyes look angry and hurt. And I know that he's heard every word I said.