The Emerald Mask

by H. K. Varian

Mack wasn’t sure what to say. “Listen . . . about last Friday,” he began. “I feel really bad. I didn’t mean to call you out in front of Ms. Therian. I’m sorry if I got you in trouble.”

  Gabriella shrugged. “It’s not your fault I can’t control it,” she whispered. “Besides, it’s probably better that Ms. Therian knows. She’s watching me, you know, pretty closely. And part of me wonders if . . .”

  “What?” Mack asked after Gabriella’s voice trailed off.

  Gabriella looked away. “If I’m the reason why they didn’t want us to finish out the mission to get the compass,” she confessed.

  “Whoa,” Mack said—then immediately wished he could take it back when he saw how miserable Gabriella looked. “Is it really that serious?”

  “Part of me feels like Ms. Therian thinks so and worries that she told the rest of the First Four,” she replied.

  “That’s ridiculous!” Mack said. “We need you! You’re the strongest person in our group.”

  Gabriella tried to smile. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m going to try my hardest. It’s like the line dividing my human self and my nahual self is all blurry. Sometimes I start transforming, and the worst part is—the worst part is—”

  Gabriella’s voice dropped so low that Mack had to lean in close to hear her.

  “I don’t even realize it.”

  Mack remembered how frustrating it had been when he couldn’t figure out how to transform. This, though, seemed immeasurably different.

  It seemed terrifying.

  “The truth is, I need help. If I knew another nahual—someone who understands what it’s like or could teach me how to control my transformations—”

  At last, Mack knew how he could help. “Ask Ms. Therian!” he said eagerly. “The First Four must know an adult nahual somewhere in the world. You know they’d connect you and—”

  “Come on, Mack. If I told Ms. Therian everything, she’ll assume I can’t handle going on any missions, and all I’ll do is hold you guys back. We’ll still be doing kiddie stuff when we’re forty! She’ll think I’m totally out of control. If I can’t help—if I can’t fight—then seriously, what is the point?”

  “But—” Mack began.

  Gabriella kept talking. “I’m just going to be extremely careful,” she continued. “I think I’ve already identified some triggers—like getting really upset or carried away—like with soccer. And besides, I think I already know an adult nahual.” She tapped the cover of The Emerald Wildcat, Volume 2. “Remember? My mom!”

  “That would definitely help,” he agreed. “But . . . if you’re wrong . . .”

  Gabriella sighed heavily. “That’s the problem,” she said. “I can’t just go up to my mom and ask her straight out. Because if I am wrong—”

  “Have you tried asking Ms. Therian? She could—”

  “I tried. She said she isn’t allowed to reveal other Changers. It’s a security thing.”

  Mack drummed his fingers on the desk, deep in thought. “Maybe I can help. I’ll do whatever I can to help you figure out the Emerald Wildcat’s true identity.”

  “Thanks,” Gabriella said. Then she glanced at her phone. “Oh man! Practice starts in, like, three minutes!”

  Mack glanced at Gabriella’s paper, where she’d drawn an excellent outline of the Emerald Wildcat’s mask. “Hey, that’s really good,” he said.

  “Thanks,” Gabriella repeated. “For everything.”

  Then she shoved the sketch into her backpack and hurried from the room.

  Chapter 8

  A Drink for Warriors

  Despite running all the way to the locker room and changing into her practice uniform as fast as she could, Gabriella was still late. The entire team was already running drills by the time Gabriella reached the field—and Coach Connors was not happy with her. Even though they had (narrowly) won the game on Saturday, she could tell Coach was upset with her disappearing act in the second half.

  “Rivera! Get out there!” Coach Connors barked as Gabriella jogged up to him.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she began, but Coach just blew his whistle—loud—and pointed toward the field.

  Things only got worse from there.

  It turned out that concentrating on keeping her nahual powers under control meant that Gabriella was really distracted—to say the least. For the first time since she’d joined the team, Gabriella was last in drills, trailing behind all the other girls. A sense of unease crept over her as she tried to keep up. Have my powers been there all along—even before I knew about them? she wondered. Maybe I never was a sports superstar. Maybe I’ve always been a cheater, and I never even realized it.

  Thweeeeet!

  Coach Connors’s whistle pierced Gabriella’s thoughts.

  “Rivera! Look alive!” he shouted from the sidelines.

  Gabriella automatically reached for a new burst of speed—then stopped herself. You’re on your own, she thought. No nahual speed. No nahual strength. Just you, for once.

  “Pick up the pace, Rivera!” Coach yelled.

  I can’t, Gabriella thought miserably. She already knew what would happen if she gave in. She could feel her nahual powers pulsing just beneath her skin. How could she concentrate on stupid soccer drills when it took everything she had to keep her Changer abilities under control?

  Practice dragged on like that for another agonizing hour until, at last, Gabriella heard the sound she’d been waiting for: two short blasts on the whistle. Finally, she thought with relief as she walked over to Coach Connors for the postpractice rundown.

  But Coach Connors wasn’t done with them yet.

  “That practice was a disaster,” he said bluntly. “I have no idea how you could play so well on Saturday and then turn into such a disgrace by Monday. Now, listen up: I want you all to go home. Eat a good dinner. Get some rest tonight. Because tomorrow, you’re going to train twice as hard to make up for today.”

  As the girls moved toward the locker room, Coach asked Gabriella to wait. “I don’t know why you were holding back out there, Rivera,” he said. “But we both know you can do better.”

  “I know,” Gabriella whispered.

  “I can see it in your eyes,” Coach continued. “You’re as disappointed in your performance today as I am. Don’t start phoning it in. Lazy habits are hard to break.”

  That’s when tears filled Gabriella’s eyes—but for once, she didn’t mind. It felt good to let it out.

  “Go on, get changed,” Coach Connors said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’ll do better tomorrow.”

  But Gabriella wasn’t convinced. As she trudged back to the locker room, worries flooded her mind. If my talent isn’t me, she thought, if everything I have ever achieved in sports is just because of my powers—which I can barely control—how can I keep playing? I don’t have the ability on my own . . . and I can’t run the risk of undergoing a transformation and destroying everything.

  The other girls in the locker room were pretty subdued too, so at least Gabriella didn’t have to try to keep up with the usual chatter and laughter. But when she walked out of the locker room and saw Ma waiting for her, Gabriella couldn’t hold her emotions inside any longer. She took one look at her mother and burst into tears.

  “Mija!” Ma exclaimed as she wrapped Gabriella in a hug. “What’s wrong?”

  Gabriella had to bite her tongue to keep from spilling everything. It was so tempting—and if she couldn’t trust her own mom, then who in the world could she trust?

  Remember the secret, Gabriella thought firmly. You made a promise to Ms. Therian and your friends. Telling could put them in danger. You’ve got to keep the secret. No matter what.

  “I just had a rough day,” Gabriella murmured, her voice muffled as she leaned her head against Ma’s shoulder. “It’s—I’m so glad to see you.”

  Ma brushed Gabriella’s hair away from her face and then kissed her cheek. “Come on,” she said as she reached for Gabriella’s backpack. “I know ex
actly what you need.”

  Gabriella and her mom didn’t talk much on the short walk home, which was just how Gabriella wanted it. She was still so tempted to say something—to spill everything—and that, Gabriella knew, would be the biggest mistake she could make.

  When they got home, Tía Rosa took one look at Gabriella’s tear-streaked face and gave her an enormous hug.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

  Gabriella shook her head.

  Ma gave Gabriella a long look. “But you know you can, right?” she asked. “Whatever it is—anything at all—you can talk to your mami. Or Tía Rosa.”

  “I know,” Gabriella said as she tried to force a smile. Maybe soon, she thought. If I can find a way to figure out if you’re a nahual like me.

  Ma scanned Gabriella’s face for another moment and then marched over to the cupboard.

  “What are you doing, Isabel?” asked Tía Rosa.

  “Oh, I’m sure you can figure it out,” Ma replied as she got out the vanilla and unsweetened chocolate. Then she rummaged around in the fridge for a bright green chili pepper.

  “Xocolatl!” Gabriella and Tía Rosa exclaimed at the same time. The spicy hot chocolate was an old family tradition—the perfect remedy for chilly weather, rainy afternoons, and bad days.

  Ma just smiled as she began to slice the chili pepper into round, green rings. She boiled the pepper slices in a pot of water, and the sharp, spicy scent made Gabriella’s nose tickle. After Ma strained out the peppers and seeds, she returned the spiced water to the pan and stirred in some vanilla.

  “Sugar?” Ma asked, glancing at Gabriella. Whenever Ma had made xocolatl in the past, she’d added plenty of sugar to temper the bitterness of the chocolate and the spiciness of the peppers.

  “Sugar?” scoffed Tía Rosa. “In xocolatl?”

  “The girls like it a little sweet,” Ma replied. “You know it’s too strong for children, Rosa. Even Mami used to add honey when we were little.”

  “No sugar,” Gabriella spoke up. “Not this time.”

  “Yes!” Tía Rosa cheered. “That’s my brave girl. Xocolatl is a sacred drink. It’s your heritage.”

  “Our ancestors, the Aztecs, used to drink xocolatl for strength and courage,” Ma said, whisking cocoa into the spicy water until it frothed and foamed.

  Ma poured the mixture into three heavy mugs. Tía Rosa brought one over to Gabriella and winked as she placed it in front of her. “It will give you strength and courage too,” she whispered.

  Gabriella smiled as she brought the mug to her lips and took a sip. Without sugar, xocolatl tasted completely different. Bitter and fiery, it burned Gabriella’s throat when she swallowed. But even though it wasn’t the most delicious drink Gabriella had ever tasted, there was something about it that made her want more. Just one taste made her feel calm, strong, and clear-eyed. As she took a second sip, Gabriella understood why a warrior would crave xocolatl.

  Because right now, with Ma and Tía Rosa by her side and Aztec blood in her veins, Gabriella felt strong enough to face anything.

  After dinner Gabriella retreated to her room to start her homework. She did her best work—Ma would accept no less, and Gabriella knew that if her grades started to slip, Ma would yank her out of soccer faster than she could blink. And then Coach Connors would be really mad.

  But the moment Gabriella finished her last math problem, she reached for the packet she’d gotten at Comics Club. She’d never been that interested in art, but all afternoon she’d been longing to keep drawing the Emerald Wildcat. In the privacy of her bedroom, Gabriella could even get out the mask and look at it while she drew, instead of trying to re-create it from memory.

  As soon as the outlines were done, Gabriella shaded in the mask with a bright-green pencil. But it wasn’t enough. The mask she’d drawn was missing something—the ethereal, green glimmer that made the Emerald Wildcat’s real mask so alluring.

  Gabriella frowned. Then, entirely on impulse, she smudged a little iridescent green eye shadow onto her drawing to make the mask shimmer.

  Better, she thought. Now on to the rest.

  The minutes ticked away while Gabriella sketched, erased, sketched again, and shaded. The blank nothingness of the page was soon transformed. It wasn’t a great drawing—maybe it wasn’t even a good drawing—but there was no mistaking it: The Emerald Wildcat was taking form, right on Gabriella’s paper.

  Even after she said good night to her family, Gabriella was glued to the page. She glanced guiltily at the door as she slipped into bed. Ma won’t care if I draw a little longer, she thought, stifling a yawn.

  The pencil in her hand made her feel as strong as the xocolatl. She imagined what it would be like to feel this way at her next soccer game . . . to run without fear, to score without worry. I am in control of my powers, she thought contentedly as she slipped into sleep, her sketchbook still in hand.

  And suddenly, Gabriella wasn’t just in control of her powers. She was using them. I am a nahual! Gabriella thought with pride as she raced down the field with her jaguar speed. When she kicked the ball, it soared into the net like a missile. Again and again and again, she ran, she kicked, she scored. If the Emerald Wildcat—whoever she was—could own her powers, then so could Gabriella.

  The game ended, but not before Gabriella scored one last goal. She threw back her head, laughing in triumph as she punched her fist high into the air. All her teammates swarmed around her, calling her name as they lifted her up.

  They love me the way I am, Gabriella thought joyfully. Just like everyone loved the Emerald Wildcat.

  Then Gabriella felt a strange, rippling sensation at the top of her head. Wait, she thought frantically.

  But it was too late.

  Two tufted ears.

  Two glowing cat’s eyes.

  A long, swishing tail.

  And a body, head to toe, covered in jet-black fur.

  The transformation happened so fast, it left Gabriella breathless. There was a price to pay, she realized numbly, for using her powers. There was no halfway point, no middle ground. The joke, of course, was that she’d ever thought she was in control. Her careless mistake couldn’t have been further from the truth.

  And that was the last thought Gabriella had before she tumbled to the ground and landed with a hard thud.

  She looked up from the muddy field into the hard, hateful eyes of her teammates. They had transformed too—from supportive friends to jeering enemies.

  “Cheater!” came a voice.

  “Freak! Freak!” Trisha screeched, pointing a long finger at her. Soon, everyone else had joined in too.

  Gabriella tried to breathe; tried to count. But all she could manage was wrapping her long tail around herself and hanging her head in shame.

  Then it got worse.

  Trisha—or Abby or Lauren or Josie—reached out and grabbed a handful of Gabriella’s silky fur. Grabbed and yanked hard, leaving a bald patch in her sleek coat. When someone else did the same, Gabriella realized that she had to get away. She wasn’t safe anymore.

  Then again, was she ever?

  Gabriella’s nahual speed came to her rescue then as she leaped away from her teammates and bounded over to the sidelines, where, to her surprise, Mack, Darren, and Fiona were waiting.

  “Please,” she gasped. “Help me.”

  But her friends just stood there, staring at her.

  “How could you?” Mack asked.

  “Everyone knows now,” Darren said, glancing wildly around. “Everyone knows!”

  “I’m sorry!” Gabriella moaned. “I never meant—”

  A thick, choking cloud swirled up from the ground, cloaking them in mist.

  “He’s coming,” Fiona cried in a panic. “Auden Ironbound is coming! No—he’s here!”

  That’s when Gabriella awoke, her face wet with tears that had soaked her drawing of the Emerald Wildcat. It took a moment—several moments, actually—for her to realize that it had all been a dream.
And that meant Gabriella’s secret was still safe . . . for now.

  Gabriella picked up her drawing and stared at it. Even though it was hopelessly smudged, she could still see the shimmer of the Emerald Wildcat’s mask through the tearstains.

  “Who are you?” she whispered.

  Then she crumpled up her ruined drawing and threw it into the trash.

  Chapter 9

  The Seafarer

  Fiona held on to the side of the boat and breathed in deeply. The sea spray on her face was more than just refreshing; it was tempting. In just minutes, Fiona knew, the boat would approach the site of the shipwreck and she’d be able to transform into a selkie at last. It had been so long since she’d swum freely in the great blue ocean. The saltwater pool in the Ancillary Gym was fine for practice—but it definitely wasn’t the same.

  “So . . . do we have a Plan B?” Darren asked suddenly.

  Everyone turned to look at him—except for Fiona, who kept her eyes on the horizon.

  “Why do we need a Plan B when Plan A hasn’t failed yet?” asked Mack.

  That got Fiona’s attention. “Plan A is not going to fail!” she exclaimed. She’d been up half the night memorizing everything she could about the wreck of the Seafarer and poring over the enchanted pages of The Compendium. Fiona was determined to make their mission a success—and when she was determined to succeed, practically nothing could stand in her way.

  “Sorry. That came out wrong,” Mack quickly apologized. “I meant, obviously, Fiona’s going to rock this, so why do we even need a Plan B?”

  Fiona laughed. “Don’t oversell it, Mack,” she said.

  “Like, here’s the thing,” Darren began. “How come we’re so sure that Circe’s Compass is still down there? There are always divers scouting around shipwrecks, looking for treasure or cool stuff. Wouldn’t it have been found—or looted—long ago?”

  Everyone turned to Fiona. Darren had a good point; luckily, Fiona had a good answer.

  “Remember what Ms. Therian said last week? Circe’s Compass is protected by Changer magic,” she explained. “Only a Changer can see the chest it’s in; it will be invisible to everyone else. The Seafarer might’ve been picked clean over the years; there might be nothing left—but if Circe’s Compass was on that ship, it must still be there!”