“Were you worried?”
“A little. Okay, a lot. Nobody ever asks me about the Class Project. It’s usually me doing the asking.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Mason didn’t respond. He just sat there staring at me. I dropped my eyes to the tabletop, my nails tapping away nervously. Say something. Insult me. Call me Peroxide. I really did not want to be there. I would have preferred a dodgeball game. Or Mummy’s Magic Mix. In desperation, I asked the only thing that came to mind. “So, what’s with this place?”
Mason swept his hand around the arcade. “Welcome to the twenty-first century. Some genius decided to take the old health club and turn it into a gamer’s paradise. Dance games, laser tag, simulators. The controllers are built right into the exercise equipment. The longer you go, the more weapons you get. The faster you go, the more speed or power. Builds endurance and strength. The idea is to make exercising a blast. Great concept. Wish I’d invented it. I’d be rich.”
Okay, Small Talk initiated. Good start. But I needed to get him pontificating on the pros and cons of hanging out with Knights. Mason continued to stare at me, an odd expression on his face. I hated awkward, and this situation was the epitome of it. I stared at the table, then the ceiling, wondering how to lead the conversation in the right direction. At one point, I made eye contact with Mason, but quickly looked away. I tried to focus on the music, or the beeping of the arcade, but the discomfort wouldn’t leave. I needed my mask. I needed a hole to fall into. Suddenly Mason laughed. He was obviously enjoying this.
“What?” I asked, a bit more harshly than I intended.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that…well, I never thought I’d be this nervous around you.”
I gave him a ‘huh?’ look.
“I don’t have to make fun of you to get you to notice me. You came on your own. I’m in uncharted territory.”
“You pick on me to get my attention?”
Mason nodded. “So what do you want to know?”
Jerk. Where do I start? Do you know a Knight? What’s he looking for at school? Is it true that the Class Project is turning out Psychedone 10? “Oh, I’m just curious. I mean, I’ve been in Dr. Miliron’s chemistry class all semester, but he hasn’t mentioned the Class Project yet.”
Mason folded his hands and leaned toward me. “He’ll only schedule one lab to do the Class Project. He wants to show each class what it’s all about, and then whoever is interested can continue after school for extra credit. I’m the lab assistant. I keep the reflux condensers running until they’re reacted and ready to go. It’s a great program, Rinnie.”
Yeah, great if you agree to do Mason’s bidding. Otherwise, face the wrath. “Why is it so important to you? I mean, you are a little obsessed, don’t you think?”
He called me Rinnie. Why did he call me Rinnie?
Mason looked off into some distant horizon that I couldn’t see. “I’ve been studying mental illness, sort of as a hobby, since I was pretty little. Some types are curable. Others…well, it’s a fascinating science. Dr. Miliron told me about this project that the mental hospital at Old Torrents sponsored. He said we would contribute to medical research and raise public awareness of a disease that affects millions of people. He convinced me to help, and here we are today. It really didn’t take much. Old Torrents is cutting edge. They’ve been testing different versions of a new miracle drug, and have had a lot of success fighting mental illness. I’m going to get my doctorate. I’ll cure it.” A pained expression flashed across his face. “You asked why this is important. My mom had problems. I want to help people like her.”
“I heard she lives in Old Torrents.” As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn’t.
Mason smiled, but I could tell he forced it. “That’s the rumor, isn’t it?” His eyes became moist, and he glanced away.
I was officially ashamed of myself. Mason was totally a jerk, but even he didn’t deserve to be reminded about his mother. I knew she was dead, but I couldn’t blow my cover. Should have just kept my mouth shut. “Mason, I’m sorry, I should have never brought that up.”
“It’s okay. Hey, tell me about you. What do you do with your spare time?”
The least I could do was allow him to change the subject. Maybe it would lead somewhere useful. “Me? Not much. Do homework. Hang out with Kathryn.”
“I don’t think she likes me.”
“You beat up her boyfriend. What do you expect?”
“No, I really like Bobby.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”