It would be impossible for me to find out the identity of the other maskless citizen in the forest as long as I was inside the village–everyone always had one on. All I had to point me to them was those deep, piercing blue eyes. What were they doing in the forest? I assumed the same thing I was–using the cover of the evergreens to allow some momentary freedom from these plaster masquerades.

I knew only two things: I would be spending a lot more time in the forest and that I had to find out who those blue eyes belonged to.

Unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to go back this evening. Tonight was the night of the Vernal Equinox ball. Young adults aged 16 to 18 would dress up, decorate their masks, and attend a large dance held in the center of the village around a bonfire. It was a tradition in our community meant to promote the potential matching of equal class citizens.

I had only been to the ball once, but I knew that I hated it. Dancing was never my favorite and us central class villagers would be separated from the upper class and undesirables. But tradition is tradition here and I didn't have an option.

My mother walks into my room.

"What are you doing with that on?" I'm not sure if she was referring to my replacement mask or my work garb.

"I haven't changed for the ball yet, I'm not going in this, don't worry."

"No, your face."

I almost want to rip my mask off and yell at her. Which face? This mask or my real face?!

"I broke my other one."

"How did that happen?"

"Does it matter?"

"We can not afford a new mask for you right now."

"Don't worry about it, momma."

She sighs and tosses me my dress clothes.

"Put them on and get yourself ready."

I do as she says and look into the mirror. This wasn't me, and I knew it. My mask itches now, and the urge to tear it off is almost uncontrollable at this point. Outside I hear the beat of drums–the ball was about to begin.

"You get along, now, boy." I hear my mother call.

The ball is just as crowded as I remember it. Large men in red masks stand in between the class groups, separating us from intermingling with each other. I peer over the shoulder of one of the men and see the upper class kids standing around, talking with each other, hardly dancing.

Our group was the largest, wrapping around nearly half of the huge and bright bonfire. Through the flickering flames I can see the undesirables on the other side, seeming to be having more fun than both the central and upper class combined.

I make my way to the back of our crowd, swaying my hips in rhythm to the drum and moving further back. Someone from the inside of our group grabs my hand and pulls me to the center of the dancing and swirling mosh pit. Draped in black robes, with a heavy black hood, the dancing figure holds tight onto my hand, moving in closer to me.

Now my mystery dance partner is almost on top of me. Out of the darkness I see a glint off of her mask. I try to peak my head under the heavy hood but she moves her head lower, cowering into it. The bonfire cracks and sparks up and in the light I see the glint once more.

Finally she looks up at me. The reflection of her gold and ornate mask nearly blinds me. She isn't part of the central class–she was an upper. How did she get here, in our group? She grabs my arm tight, and pulls my face closer. Through the slits of her mask I can see it, now. Those deep blue eyes I saw in the forest earlier.

"Come with me," she says into my ear. "Run with me!"

She darts off into the darkness towards the forest and I follow, leaving the noise behind.