The Mask That Sang by Susan Currie

“You lost, honey?”
    She shook her head, eyes down.
    â€œYou sure?”
    Cass walked faster, while the men behind her laughed. Degan hurried up to walk beside her. They went on without talking for awhile.
    Degan finally broke the silence. “Some people around here, they don’t have jobs. Maybe they didn’t finish high school, and they can’t find any work. There’s a lot of…sickness.”
    â€œWhat kind of sickness?”
    Degan was quiet for a long time again. “Mostly the kind you give to yourself,” he said at last. “And some you maybe pick up from other people. Maybe people like Ellis, who tell you you’re not worth anything and then say they’re joking.”
    Cass was puzzled about the first part. “How do you give yourself sickness?”
    Degan regarded her steadily. “You put things into you that aren’t good for you, even though they make you feel better for a little while—that’s what my aunt says. Your own thoughts can be sick too. My aunt says some of us have forgotten who we are. We have to heal in our minds and our spirits before we can change anything else around us.”
    It was Cass’s turn to walk silently. She didn’t know what to say.
    â€œI live down that street,” Degan said, pointing. “But we’re going to keep going right now, because we’re not done yet. What comes next in your dream?”
    She thought hard. It burst into her mind, suddenly glorious.
    â€œI—I climbed into the stars. Up into the sky.”
    They both looked up at the scudding clouds overhead, as if a stairway might reveal itself. But only birds flew overhead.
    Past the little houses, they met up again with the railway tracks. They followed the tracks farther, while the blank backs of big stores began to grow around them, and more cars began to shoot by on the increasingly busy roads.
    The sidewalk petered away to nothing but weeds and ruts of mud here and there. They kept walking on the dirt, while the weeds grew longer and more awkward to push through.
    At last Cass said, “I don’t think this is right.”
    So they walked between two of the big stores until they reached the large parking lot on the other side. Then they picked through hundreds of parked cars until they were on the sidewalk by the busy road. Several lanes of traffic shot by.
    â€œWhat do you think?” Degan asked, looking at her again with respect. Like her opinion was to be taken seriously. And he was standing by her, loyal, while she made the decision.
    â€œI think”—she looked at the cars whizzing by—“I think we walk this way.”
    She took off to the right, and Degan hurried beside her.
    Sometime later, the road climbed upward to accommodate another road running beneath. Cass and Degan kept walking along it, while the road sloped upward.
    Inside, Cass was listening for the mask. It had been calling her thinly, but now other voices had joined it, and even the materials around her—the cement, the tar, the metal of the cars—seemed to be resonating in her mind somehow. The sounds were building, as if what she needed to notice was nearby.
    She looked around. There was nothing but cars, racing by at a great speed, blurs of color and light.
    Color and light.
    Headlights.
    She stopped, grabbed Degan’s arm, as she realized the truth. “The stars! The headlights are the stars!”
    She pointed to the cars. Here, at the top of the overpass, headlights shot by all around. It was what her dream had intended, she was sure.
    â€œWe’re getting close,” she said, calm coming over her. “We’re nearly there.”
    They walked down the other side of the overpass and into another area with stores. Cass walked ahead carefully, listening for any changes in the sound, confident they would lead her now. The mask was very nearby.
    â€œWe turn here.”
    Degan didn’t even question