The Mask That Sang by Susan Currie Page B

maintained a neutral expression.
    â€œThe Indian mask?”
    Degan nodded his head slightly.
    The man grinned. “What do you think it’s worth?”
    Degan looked down at his feet and thought for awhile. Finally, he looked up again. “I have six dollars and forty-three cents.”
    The man laughed. “Is that what you think it’s worth?”
    Degan looked back at him. He shook his head at last.
    â€œHow much do you think it’s worth?”
    Degan whispered, “I don’t know.”
    Cass wanted to shout, It’s worth more than any of us could ever afford. It’s worth so much that you can’t even measure it in money. It’s worth the sky and the earth and birds wheeling overhead.
    But she simply stood quietly and waited beside Degan.
    The man said at last, “Thirty bucks. If you have thirty bucks, I’ll sell it to you.”
    Cass’s insides fell.
    He might as well have said thirty million dollars. She and Mom didn’t have thirty dollars to spare. Cass couldn’t even imagine having thirty dollars.
    â€œCould—could I work for you?” she asked in a small voice.
    â€œWork for me?” said the man, grinning.
    â€œI could—run errands, clean the shelves, put out garbage. Could I pay for the mask that way?”
    Even in her own ears, it sounded feeble.
    â€œIt doesn’t work like that. I don’t employ kids. I sell things, and people pay for them.” He glanced down at his phone again. “Are you kids buying something today or not?”
    They looked at each other.
    â€œCould you—could you hold it for us?” Cass whispered.
    The man shook his head. “If someone comes in five minutes from now, and they have thirty bucks to spare, I’ll sell it to them. Because this is a business.”
    Degan took a deep breath. He nodded to the man, face completely impassive. “Thank you. We’ll be back very soon with the money.”
    â€œGood to hear,” said the man, turning back to his phone.
    ™
    A minute later, they stood on the sidewalk as the sky began to darken.
    Inside Cass, a storm cloud was building, billowing upward. She felt locked up like the mask, separated from her family. Tears were pressing on the backs of her eyes, but she couldn’t tell if she was unhappy or furious.
    â€œI will never have thirty dollars,” she said dully.
    Degan’s voice was urgent. “We’ll find it. We’ll make money. I promise, we’ll come up with something. Don’t worry.”
    Then she found that his arm was on her shoulder, and he was propelling her gently forward.
    â€œI’ll take you home. It’s not far from here, just down King Street. The mask took us in a big loop. And tomorrow we’ll figure out how to make money. We’ll come back and we’ll buy the mask.”
    She let him lead her on.
    She didn’t notice the figure moving in the shadows across the street, the one watching her go.

chapter sixteen
    â€œSee you tomorrow.” Degan lifted a hand, then turned and blended into the darkness. Cass waved back, forcing a smile. But the tightness was still building in her. If the pressure got unbearable enough, what would happen?
    She could still hear the mask singing with all of the voices of past and present, like a pulse behind her ears. Angry tears stung her eyes—the mask knew her, and she knew the mask. But it was not hers.
    Cass wanted to yell, to kick something.
    Instead she took a deep breath and walked slowly up the dirt driveway.
    Inside, Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, hunched forward and peering at the computer screen. When Cass opened the door, she jumped up and hugged her. “Where have you been, my darling?”
    â€œI met a friend,” Cass said. “Degan.”
    Mom’s eyes lit up with surprise and delight.
    â€œReally?”
    Cass nodded. She looked down at her feet. “We—we went for a walk. Just