More Than A Mask

Chapter Four: Fiery

Chapter Four

Amanda's POV

I knew that Monica would be going to the same dress shop as me.  I also knew that she has the money and the incentive to bribe the cashier into telling her who bought what.  I know that her parents are the richest people in town and that they spoil her so I have no doubt that whatever I pay the cashier, she could pay about a million more.  So I decided to be crafty and pay the cashier all that I had after I bought my dress (an astounding twenty bucks) and tell her that my name is Monica Williams.  I just wish that I could have been there to see Monica's reaction.  It would have been priceless.

At any rate, I'm still anonymous.  Which was my goal, because the only two rules about the ball that I still haven't mentioned are that if the majority of the people there figure out who you are or you are seen without your mask then the party is over for you.  You can't come back.  Until next year, that is.  

So in essence, the last people still at the party on Saturday night are the winners.  And let me tell you that some people will go a long way to be winners, but few achieve that with all of the hook ups and fights that break out.  You almost have to be constantly looking over your shoulder for someone who is about to rip your mask right off your face. 

The final rule is that the favorites of Damian and Dustin, or the twins as most people call them, are not to be touched.  Because Damian and Dustin are the DJs of the party and it's their house, they are the bosses.  So their favorites are untouchable.  You can't unmask them or shout out who you think they are.  In a sense, they are the royalty of the ball and from them a queen and king will be crowned.  So your best chance at remaining anonymous and at the party is to stand out so that you can be chosen to rise to the title of royalty.

Now that I have my beautiful red dress that is perfect and beautiful, I need a mask.  For a mask I need to come up with an obvious title that matches what I wear, because along with the title of royalty comes a nickname.  And with my red dress I was shooting for fiery and bold.  The exact opposite of my personality.

All I need now is money.  Really shouldn't have given that blonde my last twenty bucks.

"Mom!" I shout from my room upstairs.

"I'm in the kitchen."

I head down the stairs and find my mom cooking lunch.  Pizza.  Yum!

"Can I borrow some money?"

"Please."

I roll my eyes and moan.  "Can I borrow some money PLEASE?'

"What for?"

"Stuff."

She turns away from the stove and looks at me.  "Stuff right."  Her tone clearly does not approve of my vagueness.  "What Kind of stuff?"

"Stuff, stuff." I shrug and stare at the floor.

"Honey, if there's anything you want to talk about you know I'm here for you.  So if you need pads or bir-birth control or what ever all you need to do is ask."  The concern in her voice is almost touching. 

"God Mom, I'm not a little girl anymore.  I'm--."

"No, you're not a little girl anymore.  If you were, I wouldn't have to worry about those kinds of things."  Her voice rises in anger. 

"I'm still a virgin if that's what your wondering!" I scream at her as I storm out of the kitchen.  "Maybe I should have just asked Dad for the money, he wouldn't have asked all these stupid questions." I give a little shriek for dramatic effect and slam the door.

Aaron's POV

I wandered into the kitchen, attracted by the smell of pizza and my sister's screaming.  Taking a seat at the island, I stare at Mom whose shoulders are hunched in anger.

"How long till lunch is ready?" I ask as my stomach growls, giving away how hungry I am.  After a moment to compose herself she says, "Not long."

"Why is Amanda yelling at you?"

Taking a seat by me, she raps her arms around me and whispers, "Don't ever grow up."

After a while I asked, "But how can I ever be like Dad if I don't grow up?"

"Oh son, you already are exactly like your father."

A smile spreads across my face.  "I'm like you too." I cast my smile at her, "But I think you should check on the pizza."  My stomach growls again.  

Her face lights up at my words and I can see the wheels turning in her head.  Then her expression changes as the last couple of my words sink in.

"The pizza!"

She bolts to the oven and opens it.  Smoke billows out and the smoke alarms go off.

Amanda's POV

I rush don the stairs as I hear the smoke alarms blare.  Looking through the thin, burnt pizza smelling smoke I can see my mom putting on oven mitts and pulling the charred pizza out.  I grab Aaron's little hand and pull him out into the living room.  Then I go back and open windows and turn on the fan.  

"What were you trying to do, burn the house down?" I joke.

Not finding it funny, Mom glares at me.  She drops the remains of the pizza into a garbage bag and hands it to me.  

"Take it out." She barks.

Outside I inhale sweet September air.  Dad notices me throwing the bag into the garbage and signals for me to come over to him.  

"I hope that wasn't lunch." His tone is light and his brown eyes sparkle like he's laughing at an untold joke.

"Sad to say, but it was." I sigh.

He watches my face to see if I'm pulling his leg.  

"I'm serious.  If you want to go dig in the garbage for burnt pizza you can."

He laughs, shaking his head.  "How'd your mom manage that?"

I shrug and answer his question with one, "What are you working on?"

"Stuff."

"Stuff?  What kind of stuff?"

"You sound like your mom." He laughs again, leading me back into the bowels of the garage.  He pulls a dusty white sheet off of a large object.  The cabinet underneath is magnificent.  The dark cherry wood is deep and rich while the mirrors in the back offer a light, graceful feeling.

"It's beautiful." I breathe.

"You think so?  Good, because it took forever to make."

I open the paneled glass doors, marveling as they swung open with ease.  My father's large, calloused hands reach up and cover mine, closing the doors.

"Normally I'd let you do anything with anything I made but this is really important."

I nod.  I understand that the vast majority of our income comes from the cabinets and shelves and other things that my dad makes.  "We should go see what Mom is making for lunch."

"Race you!" He challenges, already running away.  I chase after him, watching his flannel shirt billow, his brown hair that is just like mine whip around in the breeze.  His heavy work boots slow him down and I pull level with him as we reach the door.  Holding it open for me he says, "Ladies first."  Always a gentleman.