A Dish Best Served Cold

“Can I open my eyes yet?” you asked.

Gold sun spots pricked through the pair of tights forming your makeshift blindfold. Four pairs of bony elbows pushed you through the evening air.

Today was muck-up day: a chance for the Burnt Oak High School students to run wild before they went off to uni. You’d dreaded the day all year.

Usually, you didn’t mind having no friends. But everyone knew that on muck-up day, the odd ones out were chewed up and spit out by the popular people. That’s why, when four of the school’s most popular girls allowed you to join their gang, you thanked your lucky stars.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get to the initiation spot soon,” one of them, tall-and-braids, giggled. They all joined in laughing, so you did too. The laugh filled up your belly, lightening the stone of loneliness you’d gotten used to carrying.

The air had that unmistakeable musty blue-green algae smell. Of course. They’d taken you to the park, with the lake.

Suddenly, a hand pulled the tights off your eyes. You blinked, adjusting to the flood of light.

A white paddling boat shaped like a swan bobbed on the lake before you. You scoffed. The tundra swans in your bird-watching books were elegant… this was a stupid cartoon bird.

“Right then. Let’s go!” Chocolate-skin-straight-nose giggled, getting into the boat. 

A chill spread over you, like you were wearing wet socks. The only place to go by boat was the forested island at the centre of the lake.

You might have lived under a rock…but you knew that island was haunted.

Your heart thrummed like hummingbird wings. Your mum was always telling you to step out of your comfort zone. Wasn’t this the perfect chance?

So you nodded, and climbed into the dirty white seat. The other girls ran away, screaming with laughter.

As you paddled with your feet, chocolate-skin-straight-nose leaned in, grinning. “They say that island is inhabited by Old Man No-Face. Nobody knows how he…became like that.”

The old boat's shrieks combined with the wind’s whispers in a chilling chorus. “He was so ashamed that hid on that island...and never came back.”

 She pointed at the fast-approaching wall of poplars and weeping willows. Shadows intertwined with the branches like hair, pooling at the base of the trees. You gulped.

Suddenly, the boat thudded against land. “Let’s go! The initiation spot’s right in there.” she clapped. She narrowed her eyes. "No way. You didn't believe Old Man No-Face was real?"

Cheeks burning at your stupidity, you jumped onto the bank, waiting for her to follow.

Only, she didn’t step off the boat – she did the opposite. Suddenly, she started paddling away into the dark water.

 “Wait!” you shrieked, trying to grab the plastic neck of the swan. But the muddy bank was too slippery - you almost slipped.

Turning around, she stuck her tongue out at you. “Have a fun night! And by the way? Old Man No-Face is TOTALLY REAL!”

Then all that was left was her laughter, echoing off the water and into the dark sky.

Hot tears ran down your cheeks, mixing with the cool ones. How could you have been so stupid? Of course they didn’t want to be friends with you!

In the black water, you saw dark clouds gathering, like murky folds in the sky.

That was when it hit you. You had to find shelter quick – or risk being out in icy rain.

Pushing through the trees, you stumbled deeper into the island. You heard a croaking call, like a dog’s bark – and jumped. It’s just a grey heron, you reminded yourself. In the dark, your mind was twisting the familiar into the strange.

Suddenly, the trees opened into a clearing. You frowned. This island was meant to be untouched by humans for decades.

 Stepping further into the clearing, you saw a stone well, complete with a tatty rope.

And beside it...a hunched body.

You were too afraid to gasp.

You were too afraid to scream.

All you could manage was a tiny squeak.

Because, hunched beside the well, you saw yourself.

Straight nose. Wide lips. Even the mole in the corner of your mouth.

Frozen, you and your other self gaped at each other. You thought you were looking at some kind of mirror.

Then it hit you. Old Man No-Face. The myths were true! Turning around so fast your hair whipped into your face, you made for the other side of the clearing. Your heart drummed in your chest.

“Wait! Don’t go!”

Old Man No-Face’s voice was low and crackling. It was so close to your grandad's that you stopped running.

“Please. I just…want to talk," he continued.

You waited for the clutch of fear, but all you felt was pity. Here was an outsider, just like you.

Slowly, you turned around, and gasped again. The second time seeing your own face was no easier than the first.

“I haven’t seen a person in years,” Old Man No Face croaked.

“What happened? To your…” you asked. Then you saw the rudeness in the question and stopped. “Sorry.” You forced a smile. “I’m Nayanika.”

“Of course I'll tell you my story, dear. Sit for a cuppa?”

Ten minutes later, you were cross-legged on the porch of a rundown shack. A tea pot boiled over a real-life fire.

“I was a handsome young lad, that I remember...till a rugby accident turned my nose all crooked.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad-” you blurted out. He looked up, and your cheeks burned.

“All my life I’ve suffered for my face; it’s my identity. So believe me when I tell you. It. Was. Bad.”

You slammed your lips together.

“It was in secondary school that the teasing began. Suddenly, I was beak face, Pinocchio. They used to trumpet like elephants every time I entered the room.”

“No!” you cried.

Old Man No-Face looked down. The next part seemed crushed deeper than the rest.

“So I went to the local wizard…Mr- Mr- Gupta it was, the school caretaker. I pleaded for him to take my nose away till finally…he put a charm on me.”

The old man took a deep breath. “At first, it worked perfectly...”

“Until one day, my teacher forgot my name. And then, my best and only friend. And then, one winter's morning, when I got home from school, my mother opened the door...and looked right through me. It was like I wasn't even there."

“That charm took away everything that made me different…and there was nothing left. A week later, I was just a mirror.”

Your stomach churned as you thought of the way you wanted to blend in just as much as he did.

“The girls at school make fun of me, too,” you mumbled.

Old Man No-Face leapt up with surprising agility. “Listen to me! When you go back, you give those girls a taste of their own medicine, you hear me? Really give it to them! It’s too late to fight my bullies, but…there’s hope for you.”

“But…can’t you go back to the wizard? Maybe he’d give you your face back!”

He laughed from the base of his belly. “He told me to always keep a photograph of my face. Of course I didn't listen - I was so delighted to have a new face that I ripped the photo to shreds. Dear, I couldn’t pick my real face out of a line-up!”

“Wait. You went to my school right? Burnt Oak?"

He clicked his finger. “That’s what it was!”

“Well…they still keep every school photo, in the library.” A plan was forming in your mind. “I think I could get your face back...and give those girls a taste of their own medicine. In one. Fell. Swoop."

---

Meera Madley walked into school on the morning, lugging a pair of green wellies. Great. Her evening would be spent rowing out to that stupid island and getting the freak girl back.

Then, she heard a wild chattering. That was unusual, even for a school. Excitement simmered in the air.

As she entered the corridor, every voice bubbled to silence.

The wellies fell from her fingers. Thump. Thump. Because staring back at her, were dozens of Meera’s own face.

Every student in the hallway was wearing a paper mask of her face, back eyeholes punched where the eyes should be.

“Guys? W-what’s going on?” she asked, stumbling backwards.

Guys? What’s going on? Someone mimicked in the audience. Hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

A tall, elderly man stepped out, wearing the same mask.

“Isn’t this what you want? For everyone to be exactly the same as you?” he asked.

Meera could only shake her head furiously.

“Promise...you’ll never bully someone again, young girl.”

She nodded. “I promise, okay! I swear to god. Just, please, stop!” She collapsed to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself.

---

You ran out from the back of the school, panting. Old Man No-Face was waiting for you. As you walked out of the school road together, you handed him a scrap of paper.

It was a grainy yearbook photo, showing a bright eyed boy with a bump on the bridge of his nose that twisted it out of shape.

Amit Bhattacharya, the caption read. While he had been pulling off the big stunt, you took advantage of the distraction to make it to the school library.

“Well? I got you your photo! Can’t the wizard change you back now?” you asked.

Old Man No-Face - Amit, actually – laughed. “That old caretaker died years ago, child. There’s no hope for me.”

You blinked fast. “But- but you said you could get your face back if you saw a photo!”

“I never said that, darling, you did. All I wanted was for you to learn from my mistake."

Tears pushed at your cheeks, hot and fast. “Thank you. Please, you can visit me for dinner any time.”

Amit smiled, holding your hands in his soft, wrinkled ones. “That little island isn’t so bad. I already miss the peace and quiet."