Post by larien on Feb 20, 2006 11:31:15 GMT -5
Summary - An English project brings together two unlikely students - a friendly, homosexual girl, and a shy, conservative Catholic. Rated K
Disclaimer - I regret that Jackaroo belongs to Cynthia Voigt and not me. So do certain quotes, which are denoted with little subscripts. Lyssa and Claire are mine though. *Cackles evily*
The first day of school was his favorite time of the year. He would sit at the head of the class and watch as the students straggled in, their empty backpacks slung over their shoulders like so many deflated balloons. He amused himself by picking out the different groups of students: there would be girls with their tight-fitting, low-cut pants and highlighted hair; boys with their baggy clothes and hats. Some would be wearing brand names: Hollister, Aeropostale, and American Eagle had been making appearances in recent years. Already, one of the boys had entered the room with his pants so low that his Armani boxers were easily visible.
The ones he really watched for, though, were the ones who showed a glimmer of character beneath their tanned faces. Every year there was a handful of them; the students who came to school dressed in discarded sweaters from the 80’s that they had bought at garage sales, or who wore plaid pants and skirts with button down shirts. Once he had had a boy who every day had worn a new tie to class. There had been another who would lick his finger in class and wipe smudges off of his neatly polished shoes. He had once heard a girl exclaim as she pointed to her skirt, “Isn’t it amazing? It was just sitting there on the rack at the Salvation Army!”
One of them appeared in the doorway—a lone girl wearing a bright red sweater and camouflage cargo pants that sagged and hid her figure. Rather than a backpack, she carried a tote bag onto which she had pinned a great rainbow flag. The strap was decorated with various buttons; quotes written in permanent marker filled in the spaces between and covered the sides. She walked up the aisle of desks to plop herself in the very center of the front row.
Compared to other students, she looked as if her clothes had been delivered by the Purple Heart. Where most girls wore pants artfully torn and frayed, the hems of her pants had been ripped out and the holes in pockets had white strings dangling from them. There were great stains where coffee had been spilled on the knees, and the pockets along the sides sagged with various articles. Matched with the army green of her pants, the vibrant red sweater seemed an example of incredibly bad taste. Strands of yarn had begun to come out of the elbows, and there were places where tears had been mended with clumsy, yellow stitches.
The bell was ringing now, and as the teacher got up from his desk, he saw out of the corner of his eye a girl in pressed pants and a neat v-neck sweater slip in through the door and seat herself at the farthest desk. She looked about nervously to make sure no one had noticed her late entrance, then pulled out a notebook and a pen.
The teacher walked to the center of the room and waited for the class’ attention. Smiling congenially, he looked about the room.
“Welcome to English 10A. I’ll be your teacher for this semester . . .”
*()*()*()*()*
It was in November that the English class was assigned its first group project. There was already a foot of snow on the ground, and the teacher had noted a sudden rash of Ugg boots among his students. His nonconformist – named Lyssa – was wearing snow pants.
The door opened slowly, and Claire snuck into class. Since school had begun, she had been late at least once a week. She still dressed as immaculately as she had on the first day of school, with all of her clothes ironed and matching. She had explained to him once that she lived more than twenty minutes away, in an area that was notoriously affluent and religious. She had been attending a private Catholic school until just recently, when her parents had decided that she should spend her high school years in the public schools.
He had noticed, though, that if her parents had intended for her to meet other students, they had been gravely mistaken. She sat alone in the corner of his classroom, and when he passed through the cafeteria, he could see that she ate alone as well. In a mischievous moment as he had been assigning partners for the project, he had decided to pair Lyssa and Claire together.
Both seemed to be excellent students, and Lyssa was so outgoing that he had thought that she might be able to get Claire to make some friends. He was feeling a little nervous about it though; the two of them seemed to be polar opposites. He shrugged off his worries. It wasn’t as if two high school girls would be unable to handle working on an English project for a few weeks or so.
He got the expected groans when he introduced the assignment. He had never understood why it never failed to prompt the same reaction. He would have been delighted to be told that he was going to read and film scenes from a novel rather than writing a paper. It seemed to make it even worse in their eyes was that he assigned the partners, rather than allowing them to choose.
He passed out the rubric and paired them off, watching as they made their way over to pick up copies of the novel. He couldn’t help but notice that Claire seemed rather dismayed at the prospect of working with Lyssa, but brushed it off and returned to his desk.
Claire was none too happy with her partner. Just looking at her, she wouldn’t have wanted to work with her. She wore garish clothing that simply appalled Claire, but there were also the rumors that followed the girl like flies. The flag pinned to her backpack seemed only to accentuate these, affirming what Claire had heard. Someone had said that Lyssa was dating a girl from a nearby school; another had remarked that on the dating survey they had done, she had marked that she was looking for another woman.
Claire shook off her apprehension, figuring that she wouldn’t have to spend too long working on this project. Maybe a weekend to film it, and an afternoon to write the script. The bulk of the time would probably be spent reading the novel, rather than actually working with Lyssa.
By then, the other girl had come over carrying to copies of the novel. Handing the book to Claire, she remarked dryly, “This doesn’t seem like it’s going to be a difficult assignment. I’m pretty sure I read this back in sixth grade.”
Claire glanced down at the title. “Jackaroo? I read this a while ago for a book report. It wasn’t bad, but it seems like a rather odd choice for an assignment like this one.”
Lyssa shrugged. “All the more time to work on the movie, anyway. That’s going to take a while to do. You have to block out the scenes you film, and find costumes that look remotely like what you want. And then there’s all of the editing afterwards, and I’m pretty sure he wants a copy of the script too. Right?”
Claire looked back at the rubric. “Yeah.”
“You see? It’s going to take time.” Then she looked up at the clock. “We’ve only got a couple of minutes left of class. Since we’ve both read the book, why don’t we just get together this weekend and start working on the script? I’m pretty sure it would be fine with my parents if you came over.”
Claire considered this. It seemed that there was going to be no way for her to avoid spending her weekend with this girl, and she would much rather keep her parents from meeting Lyssa. At the same time, someone might misconstrue her arrival at Lyssa’s house to mean that she was actually friends with her, or something worse. Still, it seemed a safer bet than risking having Lyssa show up at her house in snow pants and that horrid red sweater of hers.
“Sure.” Claire reached over and pulled a sheet of paper out of her notebook. “Here’s my phone number. Call me tonight to make sure it’s all right with both our parents.” She scribbled her number onto half of the sheet, then handed it to Lyssa. Just then, the bell rang and Claire waited only long enough to get Lyssa’s phone number before she rushed out of the room to her next class.
Claire arrived at Lyssa’s at three on Saturday. She had spent the car ride there steeling herself for the afternoon, but when Lyssa answered the door she rushed inside, hoping that her father hadn’t seen that the other girl was wearing pajama pants and a torn sweatshirt.
They went up to Lyssa’s bedroom, stopping for a moment in the kitchen to tell her mother that Claire had arrived. Claire sat carefully on the edge of the bed, while Lyssa perched cross legged on the desk chair. Looking around curiously, Claire noticed that hanging on the wall was a calendar covered with women in bathing suits. It was the sort of thing one saw in Foxtrot cartoons, but certainly not something she had expected to come across in someone’s bedroom.
Lyssa was flipping through the novel, not at all paying attention to her guest, who was staring askance at the picture on her wall.
“I was thinking we should do the scene where Gwyn comes back to the Ram’s Head Inn with Tad, and then the one where she tells Gaderian about Jackaroo.” Claire snapped back to attention at the sound of Lyssa’s voice.
“If we were to do the second one, we could have Gwyn do a voice-over while showed Jackaroo doing things. Like, dropping coins on someone’s table or something.”
Lyssa nearly fell out of her seat at Claire’s suggestion. “Brilliant! And I have just the right costume for Jackaroo to wear!”
She ran into her closet, shoving clothes aside. Claire could hear her rummaging about and mumbling to herself. She came running out, waving a blue tunic in one hand and a black silk cape in the other.
“Look! Isn’t it just perfect? I was a pirate, or a hobbit, or something for Halloween one year, and my mom made it for me! There are even little green leaves stitched around the edges of the sleeves!”
It was really a lovely sort of thing for a Halloween costume; the tunic sleeves belled out about the wrists, and it was made out of a dark blue fabric that had lighter blue vines twisting over it. Over where she had hemmed, Lyssa’s mother had sewn little green leaves and vines that twisted around each other.
Lyssa grinned. “There’s more, too. I have a dress that would be just right for Gwyn, and my neighbor went trick-or-treating with me the year I wore the tunic, so he has one as well. And he’s ten now, so he’d be young enough to play Gaderian and Tad.”
Claire laughed. “It seems you don’t need me, you’ve planned this whole thing out yourself. Have you written the script already, too?”
“No, of course not. That’s your job.”
“Oh, I see. You do all of the daydreaming, and I’ll do all of the hard work.”
Lyssa giggled at that, reaching over to turn on the computer at her desk. “Fine. If you whine about it that way, I guess we’ll just have to do it together.”
*()*()*()*()*
Lyssa looked over at the clock by the desk. “We’re amazing. We’ve still got three hours before your dad comes to pick you up. I vote we start filming.”
Claire was surprised at that. “Now? I thought we were going to use your neighbor for Gaderian?”
“Why not? We can run over there and get him. It’s not like we have anything else to do. The costumes are ready, the script is done, we can’t very well edit the movie before we film it. Besides, we’re both here, and my dad has a camera laying around here somewhere. Really, all we have to decide is who plays who.”
Without waiting for Claire to answer, Lyssa pulled her over to the closet and swung open the door. “Who do you want to be? I think you’d make a good Gwyn, you’re all motherly and nice. Motherly in a good way, I mean. And I have a dress that would fit you.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Claire rolled her eyes. “Sure. What’s the dress look like?”
“Like this.” Lyssa flourished a tan gunny sack dress that buttoned down the front. Brown calico with little red flowers ran down the sides and made up the skirt. “It would be perfect if you waved a broom around or something.”
“That makes you Mother in the first scene then. What’ll you wear?”
“I’ve got another like that, but the back doesn’t close all the way, so I can wear a shawl with it. Go try that on. The bathroom is right around the corner. I’ll put this thing on while I wait.”
They met a couple of minutes later to compare costumes. Lyssa had pulled her hair back into a bun on top of her head, and had a woolen shawl wrapped tightly about her shoulders. The dress she had lent Claire fit quite well, although a button was missing from the front and had to be pinned shut.
Together, they went downstairs to show off their attire to Lyssa’s mother. Afterwards, Lyssa opened the front door and paraded out into the front lawn. Claire dashed after her, rather embarrassed to be outside dressed the way she was. She was rather surprised to find that Lyssa was already halfway to the neighbor’s home.
“Hey! You’re not going over there dressed like that, are you?”
“Of course I am. You wouldn’t have me go back up, change my clothes, get Mikey, and then put this thing back on again, would you?”
“You don’t think we look a little strange?”
“So? It’s nothing new to them. I came over once wearing pointed ears and a moustache.”
Claire laughed. “Ah. Compared to that, this must seem quite normal.”
“Oh, yes. Quite normal indeed.” With that, Lyssa rang the doorbell.
Moments later, a young boy with his hair standing on end and his glasses sliding down his nose came to open the door. He didn’t seem in the least surprised to see Claire and Lyssa standing there, but instead grinned and opened the storm door to step outside.
“Hey, Lyssa. Why the dress?”
“Mikey, this is Claire. We’re filming a movie for our English class, and were wondering if you’d like to come be in it. We need that tunic of yours as well.”
“What kind of movie?”
“About a highwayman who steals from the rich to give to the poor.”
“That’s Robin Hood.”
“No, he’s called Jackaroo. And he doesn’t really exist. But a girl finds a bunch of stuff that could pass for his clothes, and starts parading around as him and does a bunch of good deeds, et cetera, et cetera.”
“Lemme run and find my tunic. Want me to meet you in your backyard?”
“Just come to the front door. We have to film the first scene inside. Make sure to bring boots, though. The snow is pretty deep.”
“How did you get your hair so wet and will you get him a spoon, Gwyn? We have to feed him and get him to bed, and with this extra work to do—don’t sit down, Gwyn, there’s a tray to carry into the parlor. Don’t just stand there . . . (Voigt, page 34).”
Lyssa whirled about before the fireplace—reaching down to hand a tray to Claire, then to snatch a broom out from the corner. She attacked the floor and offending “dust” with such ferocity that Claire had trouble keeping a straight face for the camera. In the corner, her father stood filming them with a bemused expression on his face. He was, however, well enough acquainted with his daughter’s ways to overlook her wild gesticulations as she shooed Claire out off of the scene and simply played his role as cameraman.
It was the same as they filmed the second scene out in the backyard. Lyssa appeared framed in the back door as she returned from changing into Jackaroo’s costume, attempting to strike a gallant pose. She swirled the black silk cape over her arm and dashed out into the yard. Trying to skid elegantly to a halt in one of the snow drifts, she lost her balance and slid the distance to Claire’s feet on her back. She lay there staring up at the sky, laughing hysterically until Claire offered her a hand up.
She leaped to her feet, crowing, “I am the mighty Jackaroo! Fear me!”
She looked down then, realizing that the clogs she had been wearing had been lost during her trip outside. Hopping from one foot to another, she darted back inside to find a pair of boots.
Behind her, Mikey rolled his eyes and grinned at Claire. “She’s always like that.”
They parted laughing and friendly when Claire’s father came. Her good feelings stayed with her throughout the car ride home, but by evening Claire had began to wonder if Lyssa saw her as more than a partner for an English project. She shuddered at the thought, thinking that she should be more composed when she was around her. Then she remembered Lyssa infectious smile and realized that she would never be able to contain the laughter that she inevitably felt welling up within her.
Unable to decide what she should do, Claire curled up under the covers of her bed, staring unseeing out the window. The beliefs Lyssa was reputed to have contradicted everything Claire had been taught to hold dear. And yet, her presence was so addictive that Claire found herself wishing they hadn’t finished filming the scenes. Distraught, she tossed and turned late into the night, before finally drifting off into a restless sleep.
She dreamed Jackaroo was standing on her porch, his face covered by a red silk mask. She opened the door to let him in, standing aside to let him into the hallway. He turned to face her, his dark eyes boring into hers. Then he reached up to untie the mask and lift it off of his face. Claire stepped back as she realized that it wasn’t the man she had expected, but Lyssa. The girl held out the mask, moving closer to give it to Claire.
“Would you take the mask?”
Claire looked down at the proffered fabric, then reached out a hand to accept it.
She woke with a start, the memory of the vivid dream lingering behind her eyes. From out of the darkness floated the memory of a line from the novel occupying so much of her mind.
“Did you know what it meant when you put on the mask? . . . Aye, you’ll find it out. Maybe, if we knew, we’d never dare to put it on, and maybe that’s why nobody tells that hard truth. Think you? (Voigt, page 288).”
Claire lay staring at the ceiling of her room, wondering if it were really such a terrible thing to become friends with Lyssa. She recognized now the void that had filled her life for the past three months. She felt that she couldn’t last another day of that, that she needed the release that Lyssa had given her the day before. The chance to laugh and joke, to have someone with whom she could share secrets.
“I would take the mask.”
Disclaimer - I regret that Jackaroo belongs to Cynthia Voigt and not me. So do certain quotes, which are denoted with little subscripts. Lyssa and Claire are mine though. *Cackles evily*
Unmasked
The first day of school was his favorite time of the year. He would sit at the head of the class and watch as the students straggled in, their empty backpacks slung over their shoulders like so many deflated balloons. He amused himself by picking out the different groups of students: there would be girls with their tight-fitting, low-cut pants and highlighted hair; boys with their baggy clothes and hats. Some would be wearing brand names: Hollister, Aeropostale, and American Eagle had been making appearances in recent years. Already, one of the boys had entered the room with his pants so low that his Armani boxers were easily visible.
The ones he really watched for, though, were the ones who showed a glimmer of character beneath their tanned faces. Every year there was a handful of them; the students who came to school dressed in discarded sweaters from the 80’s that they had bought at garage sales, or who wore plaid pants and skirts with button down shirts. Once he had had a boy who every day had worn a new tie to class. There had been another who would lick his finger in class and wipe smudges off of his neatly polished shoes. He had once heard a girl exclaim as she pointed to her skirt, “Isn’t it amazing? It was just sitting there on the rack at the Salvation Army!”
One of them appeared in the doorway—a lone girl wearing a bright red sweater and camouflage cargo pants that sagged and hid her figure. Rather than a backpack, she carried a tote bag onto which she had pinned a great rainbow flag. The strap was decorated with various buttons; quotes written in permanent marker filled in the spaces between and covered the sides. She walked up the aisle of desks to plop herself in the very center of the front row.
Compared to other students, she looked as if her clothes had been delivered by the Purple Heart. Where most girls wore pants artfully torn and frayed, the hems of her pants had been ripped out and the holes in pockets had white strings dangling from them. There were great stains where coffee had been spilled on the knees, and the pockets along the sides sagged with various articles. Matched with the army green of her pants, the vibrant red sweater seemed an example of incredibly bad taste. Strands of yarn had begun to come out of the elbows, and there were places where tears had been mended with clumsy, yellow stitches.
The bell was ringing now, and as the teacher got up from his desk, he saw out of the corner of his eye a girl in pressed pants and a neat v-neck sweater slip in through the door and seat herself at the farthest desk. She looked about nervously to make sure no one had noticed her late entrance, then pulled out a notebook and a pen.
The teacher walked to the center of the room and waited for the class’ attention. Smiling congenially, he looked about the room.
“Welcome to English 10A. I’ll be your teacher for this semester . . .”
*()*()*()*()*
It was in November that the English class was assigned its first group project. There was already a foot of snow on the ground, and the teacher had noted a sudden rash of Ugg boots among his students. His nonconformist – named Lyssa – was wearing snow pants.
The door opened slowly, and Claire snuck into class. Since school had begun, she had been late at least once a week. She still dressed as immaculately as she had on the first day of school, with all of her clothes ironed and matching. She had explained to him once that she lived more than twenty minutes away, in an area that was notoriously affluent and religious. She had been attending a private Catholic school until just recently, when her parents had decided that she should spend her high school years in the public schools.
He had noticed, though, that if her parents had intended for her to meet other students, they had been gravely mistaken. She sat alone in the corner of his classroom, and when he passed through the cafeteria, he could see that she ate alone as well. In a mischievous moment as he had been assigning partners for the project, he had decided to pair Lyssa and Claire together.
Both seemed to be excellent students, and Lyssa was so outgoing that he had thought that she might be able to get Claire to make some friends. He was feeling a little nervous about it though; the two of them seemed to be polar opposites. He shrugged off his worries. It wasn’t as if two high school girls would be unable to handle working on an English project for a few weeks or so.
He got the expected groans when he introduced the assignment. He had never understood why it never failed to prompt the same reaction. He would have been delighted to be told that he was going to read and film scenes from a novel rather than writing a paper. It seemed to make it even worse in their eyes was that he assigned the partners, rather than allowing them to choose.
He passed out the rubric and paired them off, watching as they made their way over to pick up copies of the novel. He couldn’t help but notice that Claire seemed rather dismayed at the prospect of working with Lyssa, but brushed it off and returned to his desk.
*()*()*()*()*
Claire was none too happy with her partner. Just looking at her, she wouldn’t have wanted to work with her. She wore garish clothing that simply appalled Claire, but there were also the rumors that followed the girl like flies. The flag pinned to her backpack seemed only to accentuate these, affirming what Claire had heard. Someone had said that Lyssa was dating a girl from a nearby school; another had remarked that on the dating survey they had done, she had marked that she was looking for another woman.
Claire shook off her apprehension, figuring that she wouldn’t have to spend too long working on this project. Maybe a weekend to film it, and an afternoon to write the script. The bulk of the time would probably be spent reading the novel, rather than actually working with Lyssa.
By then, the other girl had come over carrying to copies of the novel. Handing the book to Claire, she remarked dryly, “This doesn’t seem like it’s going to be a difficult assignment. I’m pretty sure I read this back in sixth grade.”
Claire glanced down at the title. “Jackaroo? I read this a while ago for a book report. It wasn’t bad, but it seems like a rather odd choice for an assignment like this one.”
Lyssa shrugged. “All the more time to work on the movie, anyway. That’s going to take a while to do. You have to block out the scenes you film, and find costumes that look remotely like what you want. And then there’s all of the editing afterwards, and I’m pretty sure he wants a copy of the script too. Right?”
Claire looked back at the rubric. “Yeah.”
“You see? It’s going to take time.” Then she looked up at the clock. “We’ve only got a couple of minutes left of class. Since we’ve both read the book, why don’t we just get together this weekend and start working on the script? I’m pretty sure it would be fine with my parents if you came over.”
Claire considered this. It seemed that there was going to be no way for her to avoid spending her weekend with this girl, and she would much rather keep her parents from meeting Lyssa. At the same time, someone might misconstrue her arrival at Lyssa’s house to mean that she was actually friends with her, or something worse. Still, it seemed a safer bet than risking having Lyssa show up at her house in snow pants and that horrid red sweater of hers.
“Sure.” Claire reached over and pulled a sheet of paper out of her notebook. “Here’s my phone number. Call me tonight to make sure it’s all right with both our parents.” She scribbled her number onto half of the sheet, then handed it to Lyssa. Just then, the bell rang and Claire waited only long enough to get Lyssa’s phone number before she rushed out of the room to her next class.
*()*()*()*()*
Claire arrived at Lyssa’s at three on Saturday. She had spent the car ride there steeling herself for the afternoon, but when Lyssa answered the door she rushed inside, hoping that her father hadn’t seen that the other girl was wearing pajama pants and a torn sweatshirt.
They went up to Lyssa’s bedroom, stopping for a moment in the kitchen to tell her mother that Claire had arrived. Claire sat carefully on the edge of the bed, while Lyssa perched cross legged on the desk chair. Looking around curiously, Claire noticed that hanging on the wall was a calendar covered with women in bathing suits. It was the sort of thing one saw in Foxtrot cartoons, but certainly not something she had expected to come across in someone’s bedroom.
Lyssa was flipping through the novel, not at all paying attention to her guest, who was staring askance at the picture on her wall.
“I was thinking we should do the scene where Gwyn comes back to the Ram’s Head Inn with Tad, and then the one where she tells Gaderian about Jackaroo.” Claire snapped back to attention at the sound of Lyssa’s voice.
“If we were to do the second one, we could have Gwyn do a voice-over while showed Jackaroo doing things. Like, dropping coins on someone’s table or something.”
Lyssa nearly fell out of her seat at Claire’s suggestion. “Brilliant! And I have just the right costume for Jackaroo to wear!”
She ran into her closet, shoving clothes aside. Claire could hear her rummaging about and mumbling to herself. She came running out, waving a blue tunic in one hand and a black silk cape in the other.
“Look! Isn’t it just perfect? I was a pirate, or a hobbit, or something for Halloween one year, and my mom made it for me! There are even little green leaves stitched around the edges of the sleeves!”
It was really a lovely sort of thing for a Halloween costume; the tunic sleeves belled out about the wrists, and it was made out of a dark blue fabric that had lighter blue vines twisting over it. Over where she had hemmed, Lyssa’s mother had sewn little green leaves and vines that twisted around each other.
Lyssa grinned. “There’s more, too. I have a dress that would be just right for Gwyn, and my neighbor went trick-or-treating with me the year I wore the tunic, so he has one as well. And he’s ten now, so he’d be young enough to play Gaderian and Tad.”
Claire laughed. “It seems you don’t need me, you’ve planned this whole thing out yourself. Have you written the script already, too?”
“No, of course not. That’s your job.”
“Oh, I see. You do all of the daydreaming, and I’ll do all of the hard work.”
Lyssa giggled at that, reaching over to turn on the computer at her desk. “Fine. If you whine about it that way, I guess we’ll just have to do it together.”
*()*()*()*()*
Lyssa looked over at the clock by the desk. “We’re amazing. We’ve still got three hours before your dad comes to pick you up. I vote we start filming.”
Claire was surprised at that. “Now? I thought we were going to use your neighbor for Gaderian?”
“Why not? We can run over there and get him. It’s not like we have anything else to do. The costumes are ready, the script is done, we can’t very well edit the movie before we film it. Besides, we’re both here, and my dad has a camera laying around here somewhere. Really, all we have to decide is who plays who.”
Without waiting for Claire to answer, Lyssa pulled her over to the closet and swung open the door. “Who do you want to be? I think you’d make a good Gwyn, you’re all motherly and nice. Motherly in a good way, I mean. And I have a dress that would fit you.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Claire rolled her eyes. “Sure. What’s the dress look like?”
“Like this.” Lyssa flourished a tan gunny sack dress that buttoned down the front. Brown calico with little red flowers ran down the sides and made up the skirt. “It would be perfect if you waved a broom around or something.”
“That makes you Mother in the first scene then. What’ll you wear?”
“I’ve got another like that, but the back doesn’t close all the way, so I can wear a shawl with it. Go try that on. The bathroom is right around the corner. I’ll put this thing on while I wait.”
They met a couple of minutes later to compare costumes. Lyssa had pulled her hair back into a bun on top of her head, and had a woolen shawl wrapped tightly about her shoulders. The dress she had lent Claire fit quite well, although a button was missing from the front and had to be pinned shut.
Together, they went downstairs to show off their attire to Lyssa’s mother. Afterwards, Lyssa opened the front door and paraded out into the front lawn. Claire dashed after her, rather embarrassed to be outside dressed the way she was. She was rather surprised to find that Lyssa was already halfway to the neighbor’s home.
“Hey! You’re not going over there dressed like that, are you?”
“Of course I am. You wouldn’t have me go back up, change my clothes, get Mikey, and then put this thing back on again, would you?”
“You don’t think we look a little strange?”
“So? It’s nothing new to them. I came over once wearing pointed ears and a moustache.”
Claire laughed. “Ah. Compared to that, this must seem quite normal.”
“Oh, yes. Quite normal indeed.” With that, Lyssa rang the doorbell.
Moments later, a young boy with his hair standing on end and his glasses sliding down his nose came to open the door. He didn’t seem in the least surprised to see Claire and Lyssa standing there, but instead grinned and opened the storm door to step outside.
“Hey, Lyssa. Why the dress?”
“Mikey, this is Claire. We’re filming a movie for our English class, and were wondering if you’d like to come be in it. We need that tunic of yours as well.”
“What kind of movie?”
“About a highwayman who steals from the rich to give to the poor.”
“That’s Robin Hood.”
“No, he’s called Jackaroo. And he doesn’t really exist. But a girl finds a bunch of stuff that could pass for his clothes, and starts parading around as him and does a bunch of good deeds, et cetera, et cetera.”
“Lemme run and find my tunic. Want me to meet you in your backyard?”
“Just come to the front door. We have to film the first scene inside. Make sure to bring boots, though. The snow is pretty deep.”
*()*()*()*()*
“How did you get your hair so wet and will you get him a spoon, Gwyn? We have to feed him and get him to bed, and with this extra work to do—don’t sit down, Gwyn, there’s a tray to carry into the parlor. Don’t just stand there . . . (Voigt, page 34).”
Lyssa whirled about before the fireplace—reaching down to hand a tray to Claire, then to snatch a broom out from the corner. She attacked the floor and offending “dust” with such ferocity that Claire had trouble keeping a straight face for the camera. In the corner, her father stood filming them with a bemused expression on his face. He was, however, well enough acquainted with his daughter’s ways to overlook her wild gesticulations as she shooed Claire out off of the scene and simply played his role as cameraman.
It was the same as they filmed the second scene out in the backyard. Lyssa appeared framed in the back door as she returned from changing into Jackaroo’s costume, attempting to strike a gallant pose. She swirled the black silk cape over her arm and dashed out into the yard. Trying to skid elegantly to a halt in one of the snow drifts, she lost her balance and slid the distance to Claire’s feet on her back. She lay there staring up at the sky, laughing hysterically until Claire offered her a hand up.
She leaped to her feet, crowing, “I am the mighty Jackaroo! Fear me!”
She looked down then, realizing that the clogs she had been wearing had been lost during her trip outside. Hopping from one foot to another, she darted back inside to find a pair of boots.
Behind her, Mikey rolled his eyes and grinned at Claire. “She’s always like that.”
*()*()*()*()*
They parted laughing and friendly when Claire’s father came. Her good feelings stayed with her throughout the car ride home, but by evening Claire had began to wonder if Lyssa saw her as more than a partner for an English project. She shuddered at the thought, thinking that she should be more composed when she was around her. Then she remembered Lyssa infectious smile and realized that she would never be able to contain the laughter that she inevitably felt welling up within her.
Unable to decide what she should do, Claire curled up under the covers of her bed, staring unseeing out the window. The beliefs Lyssa was reputed to have contradicted everything Claire had been taught to hold dear. And yet, her presence was so addictive that Claire found herself wishing they hadn’t finished filming the scenes. Distraught, she tossed and turned late into the night, before finally drifting off into a restless sleep.
She dreamed Jackaroo was standing on her porch, his face covered by a red silk mask. She opened the door to let him in, standing aside to let him into the hallway. He turned to face her, his dark eyes boring into hers. Then he reached up to untie the mask and lift it off of his face. Claire stepped back as she realized that it wasn’t the man she had expected, but Lyssa. The girl held out the mask, moving closer to give it to Claire.
“Would you take the mask?”
Claire looked down at the proffered fabric, then reached out a hand to accept it.
She woke with a start, the memory of the vivid dream lingering behind her eyes. From out of the darkness floated the memory of a line from the novel occupying so much of her mind.
“Did you know what it meant when you put on the mask? . . . Aye, you’ll find it out. Maybe, if we knew, we’d never dare to put it on, and maybe that’s why nobody tells that hard truth. Think you? (Voigt, page 288).”
Claire lay staring at the ceiling of her room, wondering if it were really such a terrible thing to become friends with Lyssa. She recognized now the void that had filled her life for the past three months. She felt that she couldn’t last another day of that, that she needed the release that Lyssa had given her the day before. The chance to laugh and joke, to have someone with whom she could share secrets.
“I would take the mask.”