Neutral Mask

Part 3

After school, Connie caught up to Jazz in the parking lot, near his battered old Jeep. Howie was with him. Of course. Where goeth the Lone Ranger, so too goeth Tonto. Sherlock needs his Watson. Batman needs his Robin. And on and on.

She was wearing a modestly cut shirt with a cardigan to cover up, but even with the sweater, there was a little more cleavage than was probably prudent around a horn dog like Howie.

Connie frowned. “Hey, Howie, my eyes are up here, buddy.”

Howie recoiled, as though bitten. “I know that! But your boobs are down here,” he said helpfully, “so that’s why I was looking there.”

Connie gave up. Howie, she had to keep reminding herself, was completely harmless. Male or not, bigger or not, stronger or not, he was still a hemophiliac. He could be stopped with a strong hit to the head. If she raked her fingernails down his neck, he’d probably bleed out.

“You can’t handle it,” she said, drawing in her breath and thrusting out her chest.

Howie clutched at his heart and staggered back. “Oh, God!” he whimpered. “It’s a perfect chocolate valley of delight.…”

“That’s enough,” Jazz said in a flat tone. Or was it flat? A couple days ago, Connie would have said so. But now…was that menace threading through his words?

Or was it just her imagination and the memory of Billy Dent’s crimes?

“You’re just jealous because my sweet, sweet line of romance is tempting her heart away from you,” Howie said, pouting.

“Wait for me in the car, okay, Howie?”

Howie loped off toward the dented, ancient Jeep.

“Sorry about him. He’s really—”

“—harmless. I know. He takes some getting used to.”

“I know. Sorry again.”

They stood there, staring at each other. She willed him to speak because if he didn’t speak soon, then she would have to, and the only thing she had to say to him was—

“I really enjoyed the other night,” Jazz said. “I was thinking maybe, if you can, we could—”

“I know about your dad,” she blurted out.

“Oh.” His expression did not vacillate or shimmer. “I didn’t realize you didn’t already.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “I figure everyone knows.”

“I’m not from around here.”

“Neither were most of his victims.” He sucked in a breath, as if steadying himself against a strong wind, then nodded once, curt. Still no change in his face, his eyes. “Well, I really enjoyed our dates. Nice knowing you. Enjoy the Nod.”

As he turned to go, she reached out, unthinking, reflexive, and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back and spinning him around. He stared at her with that flat, disinterested mien, but she knew something else—a spirit alive and vibrant and connected—loitered back there, eager for its chance to burst through.

“Don’t walk away from me,” she commanded with a tone that surprised her. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

He jerked slightly in her grip, his eyes now betraying shock. “I, uh—” he managed after a moment. “Well, I guess, uh—” he continued.

“Very eloquent,” Connie deadpanned. “You silver-tongued devil, you. You’ve swept me right off my feet.”

“Look,” he said, stabilizing. “I don’t know what more there is to say. I thought—”

“You thought I knew about your dad. And then you thought that when I did learn about him, I wouldn’t want to see you anymore.”

“Well...yeah.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not to you, evidently. Because before you thought I knew about him, but was still okay with dating you. And now you know I know about him, but you suddenly think I’m not okay with dating you. Does that make any kind of sense?”

Jazz’s mouth guppied as he tried to speak. Silent moments passed, and then he shrugged once more, suddenly nothing more than a sheepish boy, and said, “It made a hell of a lot of sense in my head.”

“I think I know a little bit about what it’s like to be an outsider,” Connie said. “We’ve been in four different schools since I turned eight ’cause Dad kept moving us around. And the solution isn’t holing up somewhere with your bestie and keeping your head down and hoping no one notices.”

“What is the solution, then?”

Now it was Connie’s turn to shrug. “Do something. Something meaningful to you. Something that resonates. Something that connects you to other people, even if only temporarily. Like, I do yoga and I also—” She broke off, a new idea forming.

“I’m not doing yoga,” Jazz said into the void of her distraction. “For one thing, I’m just not putting my butt in the air like that and for another—”

“Shut up.” She actually put a hand over his mouth. “Don’t worry about yoga. Even though it would totally help relax you. Yoga’s solitary. You need to be around people. You’re going to join drama club with me!”

Jazz shook her hand away. “I absolutely am not,” he said with finality.