Unmasked (15 page)

“Thank God,” Hera breathed. “I don’t even care if this is something lame; I needed something to get me out of that Chemistry lesson.”

“You have an emergency P.E. session in the gymnasium right now,” Noelle said.

“Then again,” Hera groaned, “those chemical equations weren’t that bad.”

Blade shot her a quizzical look which must have implied that the equations were
that
bad, and anything, even gym class, seemed like heaven compared to that classroom.

“If they try to make you to run laps, we’ll just Main Character card them. They usually won’t force you to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Noelle had often watched the phenomenon known as “Main Character” carding, and it never ceased to baffle her that Hera and Blade could practically get away with murder.

“I know,” Hera said as she began doing something odd, clutching her chest with an odd look dawning in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Hera breathed, “just a headache. It’ll go away soon, I’m sure. It’s just my chest really hurts.”

Blade shot Noelle a trace of an alarmed expression.

“Hera, maybe you should go to the nurse,” he said seriously. “I mean, even if it’s not much, she can give you pain meds for your – whatever it is.”

“I’m not going to the nurse!” Hera hissed, and Noelle knew immediately the reason why. If she went there, the nurse would discover that she hadn’t been eating for the longest time. Even if Hera tried to “Main Character card” the nurse, she still would force Hera to eat and even watch her suspiciously under a careful eye.

Suddenly Noelle was faced with a question. To tell the nurse the truth or to not. Every impulse inside of her begged her to sprint to that office and spill all of the beans, but something kept her firmly planted right there.

Was it Hera’s approval?

Hera let out a gasp of pain as she keeled over and collapsed to the ground.

Frantic, Blade and Noelle both began screaming out her name, but Hera didn’t seem to hear or respond. Desperately, Noelle dropped to the ground and felt around for a pulse.

There was none.

Blade and Noelle glanced at each other with paralyzed looks for neither had learned CPR. Someone else in the hallway began shouting about an AED and thirty seconds later someone commanded for them to step back as he tried to shock the life back into Hera.

Noelle buried her head into Blade’s chest afraid to watch what was happening right before her eyes. It was too much to bear.

Minutes passed by like hours after Hera was hoisted up onto a thin bed and carted off to the great unknown.

Suddenly a figure strode down the hallway to inform Blade and Noelle of an update.

She glanced at him hopefully, but he shook his head sadly and the tears quickly followed.

The great unspeakable happened.

Hera died, and it was all her fault.

News about Hera’s death struck the characters like a paralyzing plague that left them destitute and fearful about the future. A considerate spirit rested on the people as odd occurrences such as “excuse me” when students bumped each other in the hallways while boys held open doors for others.

Of course, this wouldn’t be the first time that a Main Character would die in a story. Everyone dies at one point. This was no exception.

Death is like a Lapsus hiding in the dark. Everyone remembers his presence, but forgets him altogether eventually when the cares of the world heave upon them. Those who remember him try to avoid him, which they soon discover an unwinnable struggle.

But then he strikes. Cunningly and carefully, and few ever expect him to ever choose them. Some whom he grasps tries bargaining, they offer their silver, gold, but nothing pleases him. He knows his target, and he captivates with ease.

Though, when he holds captive one, suddenly all remember about him and begin fearing for their lives. They begin to treasure each moment, and this solitude of gratefulness for life itself illuminates Death where he cannot hide. Some begin to hope, while most despair, but everyone seems to discover how quickly time runs.

Ever so slightly, the light exposing death will fade, and ignorance rests on the eyes of the people again. The cares of their life return, and they forget about forgotten friends. Death once again hides and plans his next attack.

Likewise, similar events occurred in Noelle’s story once news of Hera’s death had reached the Extras cabin. Most believed it to be a joke at first, until the messengers didn’t show any signs of humorous expressions when they presented the news.

The doctors informed everyone that Hera had died of heart failure, but it puzzled nearly everyone because before the story had started, Hera seemed to be the healthiest character there.

Noelle and Blade, alone, knew why their friend had died so quickly and so young, but neither suggested breaking the news to the others.

A painful patience stirred, while everyone huddled in the cafeteria in silence. Noelle spotted Supporting Characters cradling Extras in their arms to comfort them. All prejudices disappeared, but they were like a boomerang, and all knew that when the memory of death passed away, the prejudices would return as well.

Noelle spotted a group of characters gathering around Bri. Though she could not depict Bri’s words, she recognized the hope on some of the characters faces while spite ignited on others.

Bri was talking about the Author.

Now?
Noelle fumed.
At a time like this?

How dare Bri take advantage of her friend’s death by spreading “good news”! Why did she always seem so hopeful, all was lost and…
what is she doing?

Bri’s lips trembled slightly as an odd noise emitted from her lips. A slow melody seemed to encompass the room while a few girls in her group began sniffing almost silently.

Bri was singing?

Singing?

Yes indeed, a low hum emitted from Bri as a few characters stared at her in awe. After she finished what seemed to be the first verse, another girl added a harmony. Though she knew not the words, the tears glistening in her eyes indicated that she knew the meaning.

The music began an odd stirring in Noelle’s chest as she fought the urge to cry. It was a stupid song, after all. Talking about brokenness repaired by the Author.

Why would she sing to the one person who tried to mess up her life?

She was making a life for herself, and doing quite well, she added pridefully.

She had fame now. As a Supporting Character, others saw that she was worth so much more than an Extra.

Then why am I not happy?

There was no denying it; no matter how hard she tried to push the thought away, it always rebounded. Why wasn’t she happy after all the hard work she had placed in her fame and fortune?

Well, maybe that’s because she never reached Main Character status. Hera would probably have given it to her. The two began to grow close as friends.

Yeah, Hera was a Main Character, and see how far that got her. Well,
I won’t be tempted by those things.

But she already had. She visited the bathroom now three or four times a week, and hunger became her closest friend, considering none of the Supporting Characters wanted to assume this role.

She noticed that she had begun to drop weight. While a few Supporting Characters mentioned this conversationally, very few seemed to care. Perhaps she wasn’t dropping fast enough, or perhaps she needed to do something radical for those to take notice of her. But what?

What could possibly fill the ever gaping hole inside of her?

The picture of the Author filled her head and she desperately tried to erase it, but a ravenous feeling like the constant hunger that surrounded her filled her bones. Why did the Author’s words make her feel fulfilled? Why did she feel satisfied with just him and nothing else?

Noelle glanced longingly at Bri’s group as Bri embraced a group of girls in a hug as they now shared something that she hadn’t felt in the longest time.

Joy.

They were truly happy.

Then why don’t you join them?

Noelle shook her head sadly.

It’s too late for me now. I’ve already turned from the Author. There’s no going back, my clothes will be black forever. I might as well keep messing up because I’m far too shattered for repair.

The saddest reality pressed on Noelle as she stared at the group who seemingly had all the happiness in the world.

But she didn’t belong there.

Or really anywhere for that matter.

The Author would never let her back anyway. Not after what happened she did to Hera. If they found out, no one would forgive her, and the Author probably already knew.

Unable to stand their joy any longer, Noelle sprinted out of the cafeteria. 

#

Noelle strode into a classroom to let the tears finally cascade down, but before she could do anything, she spotted a figure crunched in a corner.

Blade.

“What are you doing here?” Noelle sounded somewhat irritated.

Blade held up a rather clumsy hand grasping a bottle of beer making a rather nauseating noise when he swished the liquid back and forth.

Noelle wrinkled her nose in disgust remembering the taste of the drink at the party nearly a month before.

“D-drinking to forget,” Blade’s speech sounded slurred as a dead look possessed his eyes.

Noelle hadn’t even considered the impact of Hera’s death on Blade, yet it didn’t surprise her that he first sought out the alcohol to sustain him.

“Were you close with her?” Noelle asked sadly remembering how intimate those two used to be. Blade would follow every command that Hera wished upon him like a prince eager to please his bride.

Blade didn’t respond but simply held up a beer bottle for Noelle to drink. He gazed at her expectantly thinking this to be a kind gesture, but Noelle placed a step back away from him.

“No thanks,” Noelle said quickly, “I don’t think that I should.”

“I-is your imaginary friend forbidding you to, Saint?” Blade sneered.

While Blade was brutally honest while sober, Noelle had a hunch that the alcohol definitely influenced him to a devastating frank attitude.

“Do you mean the Author?” Noelle asked. “No, I left him a long time ago. I don’t care about his rules anymore.”

Blade held up the bottle once more thinking this a very merciful gesture.

“Then what’s stopping you? Let’s drink and forget, for tomorrow we die.”

A pained expression crossed Noelle’s face as a sickened feeling entered her stomach. Tomorrow they will die? How despairingly far had they fallen where the night had collapsed on the sky with no anticipation of the warm daylight sun to ever kiss their faces?

“What kind of lifestyle is that?” she whispered alarmingly. “Where’s the hope in that?”

“Hope is B.S.” Blade snapped. “There’s nothing to hope for. All the questions in life are just B.S. for us to try to contemplate impossible questions. The real question in life is should I commit suicide now or later?”

Noelle stared at him despairingly as she realized that there was nothing to hope for. There was nothing for her after life, only death and forgotten memories about her.

Why try to follow the rules when you only have one life to live? What fun would that be?

Noelle stared at the beer bottle thoughtfully as she wondered what in the world was holding her back. It was just a drink after all. Why not forget about today’s troubles and leave them for another time?

She grasped the cool beer bottle in her hand as the temptation seemed to call out to her like a rebellion calls out to a revolutionary.

How could she refuse?

“Just this once,” Noelle whispered.

An odd expression of delight crossed Blade’s face as he began to laugh softly until he was interrupted by a rupture of coughing spasms.

“What’s so funny?” Noelle asked half tempted to drop the bottle and leave.

“Hera said that you always said ‘Just this once’ before, well – you know…”

Noelle didn’t need to finish his sentence for him. He was referring to her appointments in the bathroom where she would dispose of the food just eaten to avoid gaining weight. She had said that she would only do it once, yet she couldn’t count how many times that she had visited the bathroom for a brief visit.               

She gave the beer bottle one last glance of dislike.

“Just this once,” she repeated before she tipped the bottle back, knowing full well that this wouldn’t be the last time she did it.

#

Noelle woke up late the next morning with a rather nasty hangover. She stumbled out of bed and eventually made her way out into the hallway as she dizzily made her way to the cafeteria using the wall as her guide. Eventually, she managed to push off and walk on her own, although once or twice she returned to it for extra support.

When she reached the cafeteria, instantly, several began discussing about new Main Characters for the story. While several still respected Hera’s name with a brief silence whenever she was mentioned, they still already began bustling about their wonder in what was next to come in the plot.

Due to the rather swift change of plot, the story board analysts once again cancelled any scenes until they could figure out a solution to the problem.

Rumors spread about that the board decided on selecting another Main Character back at campus to star in the story, but none of the characters received word of much because they were immediately whisked into the gymnasium.

The previous training seemed to reenter their minds, as several began to wonder, “How could we forget about that” or, “Haven’t I been here before?”

When they spotted the baskets full of weapons, immediately, they began discussing about their skills in the previous session.

The male coach, who blew his whistle unnecessarily often when too much noise polluted the room, trilled it a few more times for good measure before beginning.

Several ignored his screeching whistle and began to eye the weapons anxiously, eager to get their hands on them.

“The most important part of your training,” the male coach boomed, “is identifying your enemy. If you don’t know who you’re fighting against, likely they’ll ensnare you before you have the chance to attack.

“Step one in identifying your enemy: Are they hateful? We often encourage tolerance, while you may have ideas about the story you’re in and want to dive into the metaphysical aspects; feel free, but if you spot someone who is indignant about the beliefs of others, this person is likely your enemy.

“All other steps will be revealed in time, but watch out for those ignorant goats who will try to point you away from your ideas.”

Noelle, for some reason, threw Bri an indifferent glance, but Bri returned it with a rather frightened one as if she was a student caught passing notes in class.

“Now,” the coach blew his whistle once again, “let’s have a go at those weapons. By now you should know which ones that you are more comfortable with, so I want for each of you to keep practicing your aim.”

The rush toward the weapons was far more rapid than the previous training session, and Noelle would have gathered behind, but her hangover left her still dizzy as she asked the coach if she could sit down for a breather.

Blade had a similar idea as she collapsed beside her.

“Drank too much?” he asked casually and Noelle simply nodded. “It’s too bad. Really wanted to test those weapons out.”

Noelle couldn’t and could say quite the same. Could, because for some odd reason she felt like a rebel grasping the cool metal of that weapon in her hands. Couldn’t, because something felt terribly off about them.

“So Saint,” Blade began slowly, “you looking to get rid of your saint status?”

“I thought I already did,” Noelle snapped.