Veneer (5 page)

“Yeah, you did a moon crashing into the ocean and the Earth breaking up.”

“Why would I do that?”

Deron detected a hint of nervous laughter in her voice. “It was a dream you had, right?”

She closed her eyes briefly and let out something resembling a sigh and a curse mashed together. When she looked back at him, her eyes were that rare kind of serious. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Do you still have that dream?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it always end the same way?”

“Always,” she replied. Her fingers were soft as she took his hand and pulled him into the hallway.

5 - Russo

As unquestioned ruler of Easton Central High School, it was Principal Ficcone’s job to mete out punishment when one of his students got out of line. How he went about it depended on whether parents were in attendance. If they were, his veneer remained professional and his tone even. If they weren’t, if instead the student just happened to be accompanied by two Easton uniforms, then the principal wouldn't even bother with formalities. Whether it was his scowl or tone of voice, the man had no trouble expressing his anger.

Some judge in a black nightgown had issued summary probation for Russo, telling him that trespassing was a serious offense and that if he wanted to occupy the building, he would have to purchase it legally. He then instructed the uniforms to drop him back at campus. That was half an hour prior and Russo had made the mistake of mentioning an exam in English. They slowed down on purpose, even pretended to get lost when they got close to the school.

Ficcone thanked the uniforms for their efforts and escorted Russo into the school. They crossed one hall and entered the main atrium, but when Russo started drifting to the right, the principal spoke in a tight voice.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Russo paused, pointed towards the hallway. “I have English now.”

“No, you
had
English twenty minutes ago. You’re tardy.”

“But, but, I have an exam!” Russo pretended to bite his nails.

“Save it, Russo. We’re going to ISS.”

Russo had spent most of his high school career as a guest of the In-School Suspension room and despite his protests, he actually preferred it to regular classes. It was where teachers sent unruly students or those unlucky enough to be in the hallways when the second bell rang. It wasn’t that different from any other classroom, except that the teacher changed depending on the period. Russo assumed there was some kind of forced lottery where the losers had to take turns babysitting the delinquents.

Ficcone held the door open for him. “He’s all yours, Mr. Lee.”

A hidden smile crept onto Russo’s face. Mr. Lee didn’t give a damn what happened in the ISS room, so long as no one got seriously injured. Turning around to find a seat, his smile turned into a full-blown grin when he saw Jalay sitting at the back of the room. He kicked his chair as he took the seat next to him.

“I see you made it, bitch.”

“Yeah,” replied Jalay, raising his eyebrows slightly. “What happened to you?”

“Probation,” he announced, as if it were some kind of consolation prize.

“I wonder why he chased you and not me.”

Russo thought about it for a moment. “Probably had something to prove. You know uniforms; they’re just waiting for the chance to beat up on some innocent kid who happens to walk through a door.”

“There were signs,” Jalay pointed out.

“I didn’t see any!”

Mr. Lee looked up for a moment, but said nothing.

“So what’re you doing in here anyway?” asked Russo.

Jalay beamed.

“You posted the shop?”

“Yeah. I did all the bathrooms on the first floor, but a freshman caught me upstairs. She screamed.”

“Just like a bitch,” said Russo. He sat chuckling for a moment, thinking about how Jalay’s face must have looked when he was discovered. Usually, they just posted the shops on the walls in the hallway, but those never lasted long. Bathrooms made more sense, since teachers shied away from them in favor of the lavish facilities in the teachers’ lounge.

“So how was jail?”

“Been there, done that.” He waited to see whether Jalay would believe him or not, but he seemed more interested in the palette on his desk. It already had another shop of Deron on it. “But something weird happened.”

“Yeah,” said Jalay, absorbed in his creation, “I remember the first time I got raped in the butt.”

Mr. Lee cleared his throat enthusiastically.

“Shut the fuck up,” said Russo, kicking the back of Jalay’s leg. “I’m serious.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad. They don’t know who you are.”

“They know.” He paused, thought back to Eric’s inquisitive eyes, and shuddered. There was something invasive about the way they stared into him. “I mean, the regular porkers didn’t know shit, but this one guy...”

Jalay turned in his seat.

“He was an
agent
. And he looked all fucked up like some kind of alien or one of those Japbots but with normal eyes.” The two orbs flashed in Russo’s mind. “He looked at me.”

“Lovingly?”

“No. He just kinda stared.”

The sound of the door opening got Russo's attention. He looked over to see a girl with long hair and an emo veneer enter the room. She went straight for a desk at the front without a word to Mr. Lee.

Russo continued, “He
saw
me.”

“He saw you?”

“That’s what I said. The fucker shopped me like it was nothing.” Russo turned back to Jalay. “He reconciled the
real
me.”

Jalay dismissed the idea with a shake of his head. “Fuck you.”

“He’s a Seer.” It even sounded like a real thing.

“Then you should have
shown
him something.”

Russo thought of his palette. They had taken it away when they put him in the cell; it was the first time his personal workspace had ever been in someone else’s hands. Pulling the dormant tablet from his backpack, he found foreign fingerprints lining the piano gloss around the edges. He used his shirt to smooth away the swirling dirt, returning it to the pristine condition it deserved. With a quick mental command, he opened a rectangular portal and brought up his start page.

“You’re not viewing pornography are you, Mr. Rivera?” Mr. Lee’s question made the emo girl in the front row look up and cast a sideways glance at Russo.

“Just studying for next period,” said Russo in a voice that wasn’t really his. Bringing up a search box, he started querying the network for cases of people who could undo veneers without having to touch the surface. Most of it was bunk, unverified accounts that he dismissed as easily as UFO sightings. There were some common threads, but no clear evidence that it wasn’t just propaganda, a way for the police to keep the citizens in line. After several minutes of futile searching, he pushed the palette away in disgust.

“Nothing?”

“No one is talking about Seers.” Russo touched his chin, picked at an invisible pimple. “What kind of magic does that?”

“Which? The seeing through veneers or convincing people they don’t exist?”

“Either,” he replied, shrugging. “Shit, both!” He turned to Jalay with wide eyes. “That means there’s something they’re not teaching us! Some other magic that makes this veneer bullshit look simple.”

Jalay raised his hand, but Mr. Lee didn’t look up. “Mr. Lee, do they teach advanced magic in college?”

“Ha,” he replied, “you think you’re going to college.”

“What about me?” asked Russo.

“Maybe if they leave the doors unlocked,” said Mr. Lee.

“What if I turned my life around and became a model student?” This made emo girl laugh, to which Russo replied, “Nobody’s talking to you.”

Mr. Lee sat up straight and folded his hands on the desk. “No, Mr. Chapman, they do not teach advanced magic in college.”

“Why not?” asked Jalay and Russo in unison.

“Ms. West?” Mr. Lee raised an eyebrow at emo girl.

She turned halfway around and spoke while staring out the window. “Because there’s no such thing as magic.” Then, gravely, “There’s nothing magical about what we are.”

“What about veneers? I can paint a picture on a wall just by thinking about it.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Lee, “but you don’t say any spells, do you? You don’t wave a wand. You just do it. It’s not magic; it’s just a part of what you are.”

“The real magic is that we can even think,” said the girl, still engaged in her daydream. “That we can speak and listen and smell and touch. And nobody knows how we do it, even after thousands of years. No one understands that magic.”

Jalay frowned and looked at Russo. “I’m confused. Is there magic or not?”

“I think,” said Russo, pointing an accusatory finger at Mr. Lee, “that all teachers are part of some conspiracy to keep us from realizing the true extent of our powers. Think about it. Those skyscrapers they put up. Every Christmas they change color, change design. Is someone actually climbing out there and reconciling each panel? And if not, who could do such a large area? No!” He crossed his arms in protest. “There has to be more to it.”

Mr. Lee chuckled and returned to his palette.

“There’s only one problem though,” said Russo after a few minutes of silence. “I still remember him. If Seers were such a big secret, why would they let me leave with that information?”

“Because no one’s gonna believe someone like you,” said Ms. West.

Before Russo could respond, a bell rang out in the hallway.

“You going to next period?” asked Jalay, standing up.

“Dunno. Doesn’t seem worth it anymore.”

“What does? Come on, maybe one of the shops is still up. I hid a few in good places.”

Russo smirked. “What’d you end up posting?”

“Just your standard PB and V.”

Jalay’s response didn’t make any sense, but Russo was too preoccupied with the stoic Eric to care. In the hallway, he made his way through the crowd, looking at all the veneers, all the façades that never faded but rather intensified as time went on. Everyone at Easton Central was beautiful, attractive in their own conformist way. But beneath those veneers, they were normal, as normal as Russo had looked when Eric reconciled his real face onto the EPD tablet. It was a neat trick, but it was also power.

A power that Russo wanted more than anything.

Blinking away the possibilities, Russo settled into his normal gait, pushing aside the sophomores when necessary and sneering at the girls who rolled their eyes at his approach. They would learn soon enough. As soon as he became a Seer, he would show the world what they really looked like under all that pretty wrapping.

6 - Rosalia

She waited in the hallway while Deron turned in his test. Although her Pre-Cal class was on the other end of the building, Rosalia wanted to make sure he had been able to answer the questions. It was standard interpretation stuff with no right or wrong answers. And Deron was nothing if not a competent bullshitter.

He was one of the last students to exit the classroom and the smile on his face almost resembled relief.

“How did it go?” she asked, falling into step with him.

Deron laughed maniacally, whether at the question or the answer, she couldn’t tell. After the fit passed, he said, “Let’s pretend that didn’t happen.”

“The crazy laughing or the test?”

“Both,” he replied, putting his hand on Rosalia’s back.

She felt that familiar electricity on her skin at the touch of his fingers. Deron was frugal with his public displays of affection, which made them all the more wonderful. The teachers frowned on such intimacies, the other students jeered at them, but Rosalia felt it was the most natural thing in the world to have that tiny bit of pressure at the small of her back, pushing her along ever so slightly. At the end of the hallway, his hand moved to her elbow, then slipped past her hand.

He disappeared without a goodbye, just an expression on his veneer that Rosalia had decided meant undying love but that could have easily been an upset stomach. As she lost his face in the crowd, another came into view, the sharp lines and angry eyes of Russo Rivera. His presence sucked all the happiness out of her, made the brief stroll with Deron seem like a distant memory. He was walking with his longtime accomplice, Jalay, who was basically a Russo clone without a grasp of portion control.

The little shit actually smiled when he saw her staring.

Russo, on the other hand, was looking away with forced detachment. A confrontation with him would have been fun and likely satisfying, but all it would accomplish would be the revelation that his antics were getting to her. Murder, as practical an idea as it was, would probably result in her incarceration, unless she hired someone else to do it. She sighed, imagined the possibilities. It was too extreme a reaction, killing someone just for making fake pictures of her boyfriend. Besides, Deron didn’t seem to care that much. At least, he never consciously showed it.

There was a substitute teacher in Pre-Cal, which meant Rosalia would have the whole hour to plot her revenge. If Russo wanted to play the shop game, then it was time she responded in kind on Deron’s behalf. She spent most of the class running through the gamut of embarrassing pictures on her palette, shying away from the man on animal action and eventually settling on an almost artistic depiction of Russo and Jalay in a mutual tugfest. Her fingers moved deftly, adding various background items like S&M gear and bottles of lubricant. Finally, she added past shops of Deron, a little blurry, to an assortment of photos on the floor.

A giggle off to the left got Rosalia’s attention. It was Ilya, sneaking a peek from her desk.

“It’s funny,” Ilya offered.

“I know,” said Rosalia, admiring her work. “Now, to expose it to the masses.”

“You could post it in the bathrooms. I just saw one this morning—”

“Yeah, it’s been done. I need something epic.”

Rosalia saved the photo and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift into an arena where ideas were birthed and destroyed in fits of rapid chaos. She made a mental catalog of every available surface in the school, coupled it with the ease of reconciliation, and ranked it by risk of getting caught. The main hallways were no good; there were cameras on constant watch. A presentation in the cafeteria might work, but it would only get one of the lunch periods. Whatever the solution, it had to hit every student at once.