Print

I looked around, the orange lights from the ticket booth glowing faintly. There were only a few people in line. That’s what we liked about Mondays – it was never crowded at the movies.

            The slosh of cars racing through puddles collected on the street was almost drowned out by the raucous pounding of the rain on the metal roof over our heads. The guy on the other side of the counter had to shout at the people in front of us, and they would scream back, and so on. My ears started to ring – Lila must have been in serious pain. Her face was contorted – it probably felt like the whole storm was compacted inside her brain.

            Guy bought the tickets, shouting himself hoarse through the small speaker box, and we retreated farther indoors to the concession stand – there was a sudden and appreciated quiet as a door closed behind us – and got in line. I took a deep breath. It smelled thick, like popcorn aroma, with the sticky sweet smell of soda mixed in somehow. This place might have been familiar, but it was one thing I had never tired of. Lila looked more relaxed than this morning, now that we were indoors, and wasn’t twisting her hands anymore, probably appreciating the dim light. That’s how she liked it best – dark and quiet.

            “You never told me how you did on that test,” Guy said, hands deep in his pockets. He looked at me expectantly, blue eyes flashing.

            “Oh,” I said, frowning. Although I had tentatively decided that the appearance of the man in the rain had been meaningless, a product of my imagination, it had stuck in my head all through math. Still kind of spooked, I had spaced half of the class – thus completing only half of my test. “We’ll see, I guess.” I may not have told him about it, but Guy looked like he knew the truth. He gave me his skeptical look. I busied myself fishing a twenty out of my pocket, glancing away, embarrassed. The typical result of him looking at me like that. His opinion had always mattered the most, even more than my father’s. 

            I knew Dad was going to kill me over this test, but he would have to be home to kill me; I supposed I had until Saturday afternoon to live.

            The prospect didn’t make me feel any better. My mood sunk even lower when I saw that Todd was working the counter tonight. I suspected he had been the one to suggest working Monday nights. His goofy bow tie (not to mention the rest of his movie theater uniform) and the gap-toothed grin made me sigh.

            “Hey, Jena!” He always acted surprised when we walked up. Every Monday night, too. Shocker.

            “Hi, Todd,” I sighed again, sliding the money across the counter. “You know the drill. Make mine a large.” Almost immediately, he pushed three colas and a bag of popcorn towards us, like he had had it ready before we showed up. I grabbed my behemoth drink, weighing it in my hand. I was going to need the caffeine, having nearly dozed off on the way here. Todd immediately gave me the change – he never actually needed the register for calculating that stuff. He could do it in his head far faster. I dumped the coins in the tip jar noisily. Lila, Guy, and I started to make for the theater. Todd bit his lip.

            “Jena…wait!” Now what? I was starting to lose it. Guy shot me a knowing glance, but looked away and chewed his popcorn. I turned around again. At first there was an awkward pause while Todd was struggling over what to say; I waited, none too patiently. Then he lifted his hand weakly. He held a fistful of straws in the air. “Um…you forgot these.” I retrieved the straws and then we finally found refuge in the dark theater. Once we had sat down and I had time to relax, I began to regret being so cold back at the concessions. He was just trying to be nice. I wanted to groan, but then Guy would confront me about it. I settled for squeezing my eyes shut painfully for a second.

            But I let it go. Whatever.