The student stepped into the bar, greeted by a chorus of familiar hellos. As always, she nodded, waved, and exchanged a few quick words, but didn’t linger. A friendly hand on the back here, a reminder of a half-finished conversation there—she acknowledged them all without settling into any particular group.
Peeling off her outer layers, she hung her backpack on the hook, slid onto her favorite spot, and settled in. The bartender was deep in conversation with a couple, so she knew it might be a minute before her beer arrived.
A while later, halfway through the second drink, the bartender finally made her way over, grabbing a cigarette for a quick break. As she approached, she smiled—about to say, “I was wondering about you”—when she caught sight of the student’s face and gasped.
“Oh my god! What happened?”
“I fell off my bike. Again.” The student held up her hands, one wrapped in a splint.
The bartender shook her head, heading for the door. “You ready for a smoke? I’ve got time for a quick one.”
“Right behind!”
Outside, the student tried to talk to her friend, others quickly joined them, and the conversation shifted. Still focused on the injuries, the newcomers tossed around alternate versions of the injury—a snowball fight gone wrong, falling out of a tree, a classified incident. Laughter filled the air before they all headed back inside, the bartender returning to work while the student got back to whatever project she was working on.
As the night wound down, the bar emptied. The manager stopped by to say goodbye, and soon, it was just the student and the bartender, chatting as the last of the closing duties wrapped up.
“So, what am I gonna do?” the student sighed. “I need a new job, and nobody’s gonna hire me with jacked-up teeth.”
“You should talk to Dr. Dentist.”
“Would I know him?”
“Yeah, he’s the one that calls you Ski Mask.”
The student burst out laughing as the memory came flooding back…
Years ago, she had waited on a high-profile sports celebrity’s party—well-heeled guests gathered in the affluent Heights neighborhood. She barely remembered the guy, only that his tab had been under ‘Dr. Dentist ‘ all night. Midway through, a storm rolled in, and the bartender, knowing the student rode a bike, grew concerned.
“Hey, do you mind giving your waitress a ride home?” she had asked Dr. Dentist. “She’s on your way. Plus, she shared her cigs, so I’m trying to help her out.”
“Sure can. But this means I don’t have to tip!”
As the party wound down, someone pointed out a figure in a trench coat emerging from the restroom, taking a seat at the end of the bar. Jokingly, they muttered something about a gunman—until the bartender casually slid a beer in front of them. Nobody noticed the figure again.
Signing his tab, Dr. Dentist wrote in his usual 100% thanks on the tip line, and said, “Your friend about ready?”
The bartender nodded toward the figure. “Yeah, she’s ready.”
Dr. Dentist turned, saw the shadowy figure, and immediately hesitated. “Wait, what?”
Laughing, the student pulled back her hood and shook out her hair. “See? Just me.” Everybody relaxed and the party was over.
The next day, Dr. Dentist returned to the bar, eager to tell the rest of the story. Very dramatically he recaps for the bartender,
“So, we all get in the car, her bike’s on the rack, and we’re heading home. She’s giving directions, then suddenly asks if I mind stopping somewhere. Says she gave you her last cigarette.”
He continued, “So, we pull up to VP. She reaches into her bag, grabs something, tucks it under the seat. Then starts looking around, pulls on her gloves, and—”
He paused dramatically.
“—pulls a balaclava down over her face and says, ‘Stay right here. This’ll only take a minute.’ — gets out of the car.”
The bartender was already laughing.
Dr. Dentist shook his head. “So, Ski Mask comes back a minute later, gets in, and just says, ‘Go.’ And, I dunno, man, I gotta say I was a little scared. Left that parking lot a little more aggressively than I should’ve.”
By the time they arrived, he’d calmed down—until she turned to him, looked him dead in the eye, and said, “I couldn’t have done this without you.” Then she got out and didn’t look back as she walked away.
“I skidded out of there, not gonna lie,” Dr. Dentist finished. “And the whole time I’m thinking—am I a felon now?”
The bartender burst out laughing and called over the student.
“Look who it is!”
Last night’s cocktail girl popped around the corner. “Oh, hey! Thanks again for the ride. That rain was brutal.”
Still amused, the bartender jibed. “He calls you Ski Mask.”
“Oh—” The student smiled, mimicking the motion of pulling down the mask. “Because of the… I was just playing around.”
The bartender put everyone at ease with a quick drink, and said to Dr. Dentist, “You can fix her face, right?”
The scene ends as the student explains the eerie coincidences of her accidents, hoping curses aren’t real.