by Thea Lu

"Harry!"

He had turned and found his sister shoving aside the people as if they were nothing but flimsy bowling pins. Danielle was smiling. In her hand was a cardboard box topped with a red lid.

"Go ahead, open it."

Taking the lid off, he found half of the ceramic mask. It was the right side.

"I figured you'd like it. Put it on. Let's see how it looks on you."

But when he touched the mask, his sister and the crowd disappeared.

"Why are you not in class young man? You know being out without a pass warrants a detention."

He looked back, expecting to see Mrs. Matthews, his high school world history teacher, but instead found the woman from the car staring at him, saying nothing. At least he thought she had been looking at him. A young girl in braids stood beside her and waved at him.

"Don't worry, I'll get home."

The top part of the woman's face was shadowed. Only her mouth gleamed, wet and red, but when she leaned over and her lips touched his cheek, it felt as sandy as the ceramic mask.

Her voice was low and reedy. "She'll be safe with me."

* * *

He managed to avoid the living room for most of the day, but kept checking his watch every fifteen minutes like an impatient businessman waiting for the next train. In his restlessness, he had turned on the television again, which had begun airing cartoons. Disgusted, he tossed the remote not bothering to push the off button. Bugs Bunny in a baby's gown screamed, "Help!" as Elmer Fudd chased him with a rifle.

He spent the next hour setting up his collection. The masks gleamed in from his display cabinet. Plastic ones shimmered with silver and gold glitter and green silk and ribbons. Half-masks sat on the top shelf--black, gold, and white--pinioned with ivory feathers. He had purchased them, thinking that they would remind him of that decadent holiday, Mardi Gras, but today he only saw the materials. Plastic, ceramic, paper.

The only mask not in the cabinet was the one that Danielle had made. Did he forget to put it in with its brothers and sisters, or had he deliberately left it out because it was flawed? The mouth reminded him of the dream, and instinctively he looked up to stare out the window.

His heart tripped once. The station wagon was again parked on his curb. This time the woman had gotten out of the car and was leaning against the passenger side. He saw only the back of her head and her shoulders.

In the distance he heard sobbing. It was the television. A woman sat on a sedate couch blowing her nose into a damp handkerchief. Her eyes were watery, bloated, and red. "I've been in so much pain since she's been missing!" she wailed.

Geraldo, forsaking his clunky microphone put his arm around the poor woman in showy sympathy. "So when did you last see your daughter?"

"Two months ago."

"And where were you?"

"Me and two other mothers, we were friends and we often went to the local park to let our kids play together." She let out another loud sob.

Geraldo made a few cooing noises and continued his interrogation. "So what happened?"

"My daughter was playing in the sandbox with the other kids. I turned my head for a few minutes to answer a question one of the other mothers asked and when I turned back, she had disappeared!"

On the corner of the screen, a snapshot of the woman's child was shown, a happy cherubic face surrounded by two thick braids.

Harry turned back to the window for a moment and caught her looking at him. Her eyes had narrowed as if she was disapproving his television watching habits. He took a step back and heard something clatter behind him. She turned her head to observe the school again.

He found the mask, uncracked, but lying face down on the floor.

* * *

That night he found himself on the elementary school's front yard waiting for his mother to take him home. But instead of the familiar minivan of childhood, he saw the blue station wagon slowly wheeling toward him. She leaned out, her eyes still obscured but her mouth visible.

"I can take you home."

He stood frozen, indecisive.

"Home," she said again. Her red mouth opened and he saw white, sharp teeth.

* * *

He made himself sleep when he woke again early, but it did not help. The dream made him lurch through the rest of the day like a zombie. The mask lay on the floor, untouched.

At 3 PM sharp (he had looked at his watch again), he parted the curtains for two inches and peered out the window. He had drawn the curtains to hide from her gaze. The blue car was on the curb, as usual. She stood outside, arms crossed. He waited and stared.

From the milieu of children and school busses, he saw a young girl break off, wandering. The woman waved and the girl spotted her.

As the child ambled toward the woman, Harry reached for the phone.

*****THE END*****