Happy Mask

Happy Mask

            Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! My alarm went off, repeating itself in a shout that could wake the dead if they happened to be sleeping right next to it, until I slammed my hand into it, shutting it off. I slowly draped my legs over the edge of my bed, and then pushed myself off, landing with a thud that resonated throughout my house.

I walked over to my dresser, and yanked open the drawers. I slowly, almost lethargically, and got dressed in a gray t-shirt, jeans, white short socks, and sneakers. I put on a light spring jacket over my clothes, walked past my locked cabinet, and went out the door.

I walked down the hallway, and took my first step down the stairs when my dad looked around the corner at me, covered his eyes, and yelled up “Get back to your room young lady, and get properly dressed. You know that you can’t go out looking like that.”

I groaned, but turned around anyways and walked back to my room. I walked back through the door, and turned to my locked cabinet. I took the key off the top of my dresser, and unlocked it. Out of it I took my happy mask. It was a black mesh mask, with a scribble of red in a smile in the general area of my mouth, blue with white around it where my eyes would be, and a cream-like coloring for the rest of the skin. The hair was a brownish, going from the top, to a little over the eyes, to over the ears, to all the way down the back.

When I was five, they came into my kindergarten class and asked us to draw what a happy, sad, and angry us looked like. They took our drawings, and came back with a happy mask for each of us, with our drawings on them where our heads would be. Nobody knew what they did with the other two drawings, until sixth grade.

One of my friends, Paul got depressed in sixth grade. One day Paul wasn’t in his happy mask anymore, instead he was in his sad mask. Apparently they had come into his house, taken his happy mask, and replaced it with his sad mask. Then, towards the end of the year, two kids got into a fight. It was Cain and Abel, where Hamlet was kicking Abel into the wall. When they came to school the next day, they both had their angry masks on.

The next year, I found out what happened if you didn’t wear your mask. Paul decided to not to wear his mask to school, and when he walked in the door police were waiting there, all wearing their happy masks. They took him away, and I never saw Paul again. That same year, Cain got into another fight, so he got put in stage two of the angry mask. This meant that he had to wear a red mask with all red turned blue for his mask, and was put in special classes away from other kids.

I slipped my happy mask over my head, and felt the cloth molding to my face as I had every morning for the last thirteen years. My vision was clouded by the black mesh, though it was almost clear through the mesh, it was a little foggy. My breathing was a little constricted, but I was used to it by now.

I walked downstairs, where my dad looked at me and said “Now that’s more like it, that’s how you should be dressed. I mean, honestly, do you want to be taken by the mask police?”

“No father.” I mumbled out. I got my book bag, walked over to him, hugged him and said “Bye dad.” Then walked out. It was my last day of school before regents, and then it was off to college. I was nervous, but it was a good kind of nervous, the kind that kept people from failing. And who wasn’t nervous at this time of the year?

I walked down the street, heading down towards the school. I checked my watch, and saw it was almost eight. “Oh crap, I’m going to be late.” I thought to myself, and started running. I couldn’t be late on the last day before regents.

I ran up to the school, and the door master was about to close the door, wearing his angry mask, which had a black mouth showing white, sharp, pointy teeth, eyes pitch black, no hair, and blank white skin. I managed to run up to the door right before he closed it.

“You’re lucky kid; I almost locked the door before you got here. Now get in, and get to class.”

“Yes sir. Thank you for not locking the door.” I said as I walked in the door, never forgetting my formalities. I walked down the hallway, and stopped at my locker. I took out my books, and walked down the hall to my class. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Paul. But when I turned he wasn’t there.

I shrugged, and walked on. I walked into my classroom right before the bell, and got to my seat. I managed to listen to the speech on how terrible a class we are before I zoned out. I zoned out for a few minutes before I heard a yell of “Mrs. Recalcitrant, am I boring you?”

I turned red with embarrassment before managing to mumble out a “No ma’am, sorry ma’am.”

“Do you know what’ll happen after you get out of high school? You will waste your pathetic little life, flunk out of college, and become a stripper. You will never amount to anything, and I hope your parents are so disappointed they disown you. You are a worthless parasite of a human being, and I expect nothing out of you. Now leave my class.”

I was tearing up at this point, and stormed out of the room. I walked over to my locker, sat down in front of it, and started crying. My mask let the tears fall out, but the tears still clung to the fabric. I closed my eyes and just let it all out.

I was crying for what seemed like an hour when I felt a hand tap my shoulder. I looked up, and there was Paul, without his mask and everything. It was weird, I saw his face once seven years ago and it was still burned into my mind.

He didn’t have to say a word, I knew what he wanted. I took off my mask, and stood up. He handed me a gun, and we walked. No more would I be told what to feel, no more would I be judged based on the mask I wore. This was the death of the happy mask.