the anti-masq club! {open for two or three}

[STELLA HINES]

If Stella Hines had her own personal Hell, this would be it.

Dresses and heels and make up and jewelry and dancing and other stupid things she didn’t like all wrapped together to make one big stupid dance… PLUS MASKS. Whose pointless idea was that anyway? What was the point of a dance if you didn’t know who you were talking to? Much less if you didn’t know who you were DANCING WITH. Stupid. It was all very stupid and pointless and boring and she just wanted to kill her mother for making her go.

It wasn’t really her mom’s fault, though. Stella could place some of the blame on Baum Academy since, from what she’d heard, every student there have been invited. In fact, Stella could swear ALL of New York had been invited. How they thought they could fit that many people into one building was beyond her. At first, it hadn’t mattered, because she wouldn’t be one of those people. Unfortunately, she had been stupid enough to visit home after school and her mom had been annoying enough to snoop through Stella’s bag.

The second she’d found the dumb invitation, she was hurrying around the house, going on and on about FINALLY being able to dress up her darling Estella because this was a dance not a pageant and Estella had never said dances were off limits! Stella was kicking herself, feeling so stupid for bringing the bag home and for never having put dances off limits. Anything that put her in a dress should be off limits! At first, Stella complained to her father, saying how the dance would be SO DULL and God forbid she met any boys there!! Her daddy wouldn’t want her to meet boys, would he?!

Of course, mother had swooped in then, squealing about boys and wedding bells and grandchildren. Stella wanted to kill herself. She was just about ready to leap from the roof of the two story house, even if that wouldn’t kill her, maybe it would at least put her in the hospital…? Oh, but then she couldn’t run… So distracted by her plans of fatal injury/suicide, Stella hadn’t realized the auto-pilot version of herself was nodding along to dress shopping and appointments at a hair salon.

Kill me now became sort of a permanent thing she said, while shopping for dresses and jewelry, while getting her hair done, while trying on heels. Kill me now, Stella would say to anything and everything that had to do with the masquerade. Especially when all the girls in her classes wouldn’t SHUT UP about it, giggling over their dates and outfit themes. (Stella thought a freshman dating was stupid and why would an outfit need a theme?). Kill me now, thought Stella on her way to the super special location, with its super special ballroom, all decorated for the stupid special occasion.

If there was one thing to relieve her of this personal Hell, it was that she didn’t have to wear heels. Her mother had picked out some black ones for her, ones that didn’t even match the bright yellow dress they had both agreed on (because it was BRIGHT, said Stella), ones that weren’t as bad as they could be, but heels nonetheless. Because Stella had a secret. And that secret was that thanks to her over-the-top dress, she somehow had room to hide sneakers within the fabric.

The moment her mother had left her (and thank God she had left; Stella honestly expected the woman to stay), Stella all but ran to the nearest table, collapsed in a chair, and kicked off her heels. She tugged on the sneakers before leaning back and propping her feet up on yet another empty seat. Now, if she could just sit here all night, watching and laughing at everybody else, maybe it wouldn’t be that awful… maybe.

outfit

[KATRINA CLARK]

Now, Katrina Clark was not the type o’ gal who went to these funny Masquerade businesses. Frankly, she kind of thought they were some o’ the stupidest things in the world. A buncha stupid people in dresses sitting around drinking disgusting things from cups, not knowing who each other was because of their dumb little masks and stuff? Katrina could think of hundreds of things she’d a’rather be doin’ than something boring like that. So when she’d gotten the dang nab little invitation, her first thought had been No, no, no, dang nabbit no.

So why the Sam Hill was she a’standin’ in this dumb little room with dumb little ladies in ugly dresses and dumb little men in tucksmedos dance around like dumb little ballerinas and dumb little toy soldiers and other dumb little nibblets? Katrina honestly couldn’t’a told ya if ya asked her several times and rapped her thrice ‘round the noggin. And there she’d been, all nice an’ set to throw that there invitation into the dang nabbin’ trash and never think about the darned thing again…when one of the dumb little girlies in her gym class had asked her if she were goin’ or not. Katrina had stiffened, conscious of the many little eyes around her, and stuttered “Uh, yeah. Yeah, ‘course I’m a’goin’. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Everyone had laughed, sayin’ they’d be a’seein’ her there and that they’d have a nice danged good time at that there Masquerade Ball. The conversation had filled her there belly with a nice sense of…of what?

Of butt nothin’, obshriously. Katrina didn’t give two toots what those little kids thought o’ her, and everyone knowed it too. But the fact remained that Katrina had given her word that she was going to be a’comin’ to this here Masquerade, and that there weren’t no good heroes that went back on their word. Weren’t no stories about heroes who broke their promises, no siree Bob. Only villains broke promises, and Katrina Clark weren’t no villain. She was the heroest of all the heroes, and everyone knew it too.

Sighing, she walked from the corner she’d been standing in and watching the dancers, wrinkling her nose as those there heels clacked across the floor. Dang nab, she hated these stupid things. She kicked them off as she approached the seating area, scooting into the most empty-lookin’ table she could well find. ”Anyone sittin’ ‘ere?” she asked the only other girl who was a’sittin’ there, a girl wearin’ some pink little mask and some yellow little dress that Katrina thought was kinda girly and weird.

And dang nabbit, Katrina didn’t well care if the President of the United States had this seat saved. She weren’t standin’ in those danged high heels no more, and weren’t nothin’ this girl nor the President were gonna do about it. She reclined in the chair, folding her hands behind her head. ”Name’s Katrina, by the way. Katrina Clark.” She removed her mask and tossed it onto the table, allowing the girl a glimpse of her face.

OUTFIT

[STELLA HINES]

Everybody looked ridiculous.

From where she sat, Stella could see just about everything. She didn’t need to hear the conversations to know that they were stupid. The music was loud enough to make her ears hurt, and it wasn’t even good music. Who the hell had requested this? Groaning, Stella dropped her head into her hands and continued to make annoyed sounds, hoping she could somehow drown out the noise around her. She would go home if she could, but her mother would be there. Why couldn’t that insufferable woman actually have plans? Or something? Why didn’t she have any friends? She could be out having dinner with some fancy beauty pageant winning friends, but no. No, she was at home, being stupid and probably putting together some new dress or something.

Stella would go out if she could, but she’d rather die than be seen in something like this. At least at the masquerade it was normal enough to be in a bright yellow dress. If she were to try going anywhere else, she’d look crazy. … Then again, this was New York, wasn’t it? Didn’t people go out in their craziest clothes? She was sure this was nothing compared to some outfits that had graced the New York City streets. Before Stella could really think about going out and leaving this whole mess behind, there was somebody else sitting at her table. Stella had missed whatever the girl had said before, but that she’d already kicked her heels off had to be a good sign.

Her dress wasn’t as obnoxious as Stella’s, which made her jealous, and she had these ripped up tights and her converse were covered in bows. Basically… Stella felt even more ridiculous than she thought everybody else looked. “Okay,” was the first thing she managed after the girl had introduced herself. Stella had never heard of Katrina, Katrina Clark before, but if she came to masquerades dressed like this, they ought to be friends. “Stella. Stella-I-don’t-want-to-be-here Hines.” She paused, hoping Katrina, Katrina Clark wouldn’t take that seriously.

She watched as the girl removed her mask, and Stella considered doing the same. But then she realized she didn’t want anybody to know that it was her in this dress, at this dance, and her best chance of keeping her identity a secret was by keeping her mask on. So, okay… maybe the masquerade wasn’t such a bad idea. “You don’t look like you want to be here anymore than I do.” That was a huge relief seeing as they were surrounded by stupid lovey dovey couples. At least she wasn’t the only one who hated being here. “So what brings you here?”