Behind the Mask

Music rang in my ears; music that was quite unlike any teenage party I had ever imagined, or that was written in any of the romance novels Mother stashed in her office. It was a familiar piece though, a waltz specially written for the piano by the wondrous Fredrick Chopin. Closing my eyes, I could only just image the fingers of Father gliding across the smooth ivory and ebony keys, recreating the classical works of every and all musician in history. I listened to the waltz increased from adagio to allegro, before fluttering my eyes open again and absorbing the reactions of the fellow student body. Some appeared surprised from the choice of song – this was the masquerade of Alexandria Wellington, of course – while others resumed their position with their date and waltzed around the enormous, regal ballroom. To be honest, everything appeared more like a story out of the Grimms’ Fairy Tales than reality since arriving at the party. Where were the kegs of beer? Or the vomit-clogged toilets? Or the missing couples locked away in one of the bedrooms upstairs?

This was not a high school party, I decided, sipping sparkling water from a champagne glass. It was out of character, no matter how rich or fancy the host was. She was still a teenager, a rebellious one at that, who I knew had a history of playing beer pong and table-dancing. Swashing the liquid around the thin glass, I pondered this thought for moment before coming to a conclusion. Parents, I mused, peering into the distance to watch a man and woman overlooking the crowd like hawks. An amused laugh bubbled in my throat as I tipped the glass back and allowed the cool drink to quench my thirst.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Cynthia left my side to lock arms with one of the hundreds of masked, unidentifiable men. Her giggles were barely audible over the sound of the piano; however, her petite body shook with laughter and I smiled. At least I knew she was enjoying herself. It was her idea to come here in the first place, and it was also her plan to drag me with her, claiming I needed more time out of the house. Chuckling, I sat back in my seat and closed my eyes again to engulf my very being with the chords and notes leaping out of the piano score. Time slowed down then, and I felt at peace. Sure, I wasn’t enjoying the party as a whole, but hearing the gracefully waltz put a smile on my lips and cast the illusion that where I was, I was not. No, I was in the parlor with Father and he was playing me a song just as he did when I was a child. That was where I was.

Until something else graced my ears: a smooth, velvety male voice. “This seat taken?”

The illusion cracked, and again I was at the party, surrounded by people I knew, and others I didn’t. I focused my attention on the man next to me, his face inches from mine. My breath caught, becoming lost in his electric blue eyes behind a simple black mask and I had to remind myself to breathe. Who was this man?

His lips twitched into a crooked smile and I realized I had not answered him. My cheeks flushed red, though it was hopefully hidden by my purple, rhinestone mask. With a quick shake of my head, I murmured, “No.” The man grinned and took a seat next to me.

Had I known sooner the trouble I was getting myself into.