Beautiful Creatures
Page 40
When we pulled up in the Beater, Lena was standing outside in the darkness, in front of the brightly lit theater. She was wearing a purple T-shirt, with a skinny black dress over it that made you remember how much of a girl she was, and trashed black boots that made you forget.
Inside the door, aside from the usual crowd of Summerville Community College students, the cheer squad was assembled in formation, hanging out in the lobby arcade with guys from the team. My mood started to evaporate.
“Hi.”
“You’re late. I got the tickets.” Lena’s eyes were unreadable in the darkness. I followed her inside. We were off to a great start.
“Wate! Get over here!” Emory’s voice boomed over the arcade and the crowd and the eighties music playing in the lobby.
“Wate, you got a date?” Now Billy was riding me. Earl didn’t say anything, but only because Earl hardly ever said anything.
Lena ignored them. She rubbed her head, walking ahead of me like she didn’t want to look at me.
“It’s called a life.” I shouted back over the crowd. I would hear about this on Monday. I caught up to Lena. “Hey, sorry about that.”
She whirled around to look at me. “This isn’t going to work if you’re the kind of person who doesn’t want to watch the previews.”
I waited for you.
I grinned. “Previews and credits, and the dancing popcorn guy.”
She looked past me, back to my friends, or at least, the people who had historically functioned that way.
Ignore them.
“Butter or no butter?” She was annoyed. I had been late, and she had faced the Jackson High social stockade alone. Now it was my turn.
“Butter,” I confessed, knowing this would be the wrong answer. Lena made a face.
“But I’ll trade you butter for extra salt,” I said. Her eyes looked past me, then back. I could hear Emily’s laughter getting closer. I didn’t care.
Say the word and we’ll go, Lena.
“No butter, salt, tossed with Milk Duds. You’ll like it,” she said, her shoulders relaxing just a little.
I already like it.
The squad and the guys walked past us. Emily made a point of not looking at me, while Savannah stepped around Lena like she was infected with some kind of airborne virus. I could just imagine what they would tell their mothers when they got home.
I grabbed Lena’s hand. A current ran through my body, but this time, it wasn’t the shock I had felt that night in the rain. It was more like a confusion of the senses. Like being hit by a wave at the beach and climbing under an electric blanket on a rainy night, all at the same time. I let it wash over me. Savannah noticed and elbowed Emily.
You don’t have to do this.
I squeezed her hand.
Do what?
“Hey, kids. Did you see the guys?” Link tapped me on the shoulder, carrying a monster-size buttered popcorn and a giant blue slush.
The Cineplex was showing some kind of murder mystery, which Amma would have liked, given her penchant for mysteries and dead bodies. Link had gone to sit up front with the guys, scoping the aisles for college girls on his way. Not because he didn’t want to sit with Lena, but because he assumed we wanted to be alone. We did—at least, I did.
“Where do you want to sit? Up close, in the middle?” I waited for her to decide.
“Back here.” I followed her down the aisle of the last row.
Hooking up was the main reason kids from Gatlin went to the Cineplex, considering any movie showing there was already on DVD. But it was the only reason you sat in the last three rows. The Cineplex, the water tower, and in the summer, the lake. Aside from that, there were a few bathrooms and basements, but not many other options. I knew we wouldn’t be doing any hooking up, but even if it was like that between us I wouldn’t have brought her here to do it. Lena wasn’t just some girl you took to the last three rows of the Cineplex. She was more than that.
Still, it was her choice, and I knew why she chose it. You couldn’t get farther away from Emily Asher than the last row.
Maybe I should have warned her. Before the opening credits, people were already starting to go at it. We both stared at the popcorn, since there was nowhere else safe to look.
Why didn’t you say anything?
I didn’t know.
Liar.
I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Honest.
I pushed it all to the back of my mind, thinking about anything, the weather, basketball, and reached into the popcorn tub. Lena reached in at the same time, and our hands touched for a second, sending a chill up my arm, hot and cold all mixed up together. Pick ’n’ Roll. Picket Fences. Down the Lane. There were only so many plays in the Jackson basketball playbook. This was going to be harder than I thought.
The movie was terrible. Ten minutes in, I already knew the ending.
“He did it,” I whispered.
“What?”
“That guy. He’s the murderer. I don’t know who he kills, but he did it.” That was the other reason Link didn’t want to sit by me: I always knew the ending at the beginning and I couldn’t keep it to myself. It was my version of doing the crossword. It was the reason I was so good at video games, carnival games, checkers with my dad. I could figure things out, right from the first move.
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
How does this end?
I knew what she meant. But for the first time, I just didn’t know the answer.
Happy. Very, very happy.
Inside the door, aside from the usual crowd of Summerville Community College students, the cheer squad was assembled in formation, hanging out in the lobby arcade with guys from the team. My mood started to evaporate.
“Hi.”
“You’re late. I got the tickets.” Lena’s eyes were unreadable in the darkness. I followed her inside. We were off to a great start.
“Wate! Get over here!” Emory’s voice boomed over the arcade and the crowd and the eighties music playing in the lobby.
“Wate, you got a date?” Now Billy was riding me. Earl didn’t say anything, but only because Earl hardly ever said anything.
Lena ignored them. She rubbed her head, walking ahead of me like she didn’t want to look at me.
“It’s called a life.” I shouted back over the crowd. I would hear about this on Monday. I caught up to Lena. “Hey, sorry about that.”
She whirled around to look at me. “This isn’t going to work if you’re the kind of person who doesn’t want to watch the previews.”
I waited for you.
I grinned. “Previews and credits, and the dancing popcorn guy.”
She looked past me, back to my friends, or at least, the people who had historically functioned that way.
Ignore them.
“Butter or no butter?” She was annoyed. I had been late, and she had faced the Jackson High social stockade alone. Now it was my turn.
“Butter,” I confessed, knowing this would be the wrong answer. Lena made a face.
“But I’ll trade you butter for extra salt,” I said. Her eyes looked past me, then back. I could hear Emily’s laughter getting closer. I didn’t care.
Say the word and we’ll go, Lena.
“No butter, salt, tossed with Milk Duds. You’ll like it,” she said, her shoulders relaxing just a little.
I already like it.
The squad and the guys walked past us. Emily made a point of not looking at me, while Savannah stepped around Lena like she was infected with some kind of airborne virus. I could just imagine what they would tell their mothers when they got home.
I grabbed Lena’s hand. A current ran through my body, but this time, it wasn’t the shock I had felt that night in the rain. It was more like a confusion of the senses. Like being hit by a wave at the beach and climbing under an electric blanket on a rainy night, all at the same time. I let it wash over me. Savannah noticed and elbowed Emily.
You don’t have to do this.
I squeezed her hand.
Do what?
“Hey, kids. Did you see the guys?” Link tapped me on the shoulder, carrying a monster-size buttered popcorn and a giant blue slush.
The Cineplex was showing some kind of murder mystery, which Amma would have liked, given her penchant for mysteries and dead bodies. Link had gone to sit up front with the guys, scoping the aisles for college girls on his way. Not because he didn’t want to sit with Lena, but because he assumed we wanted to be alone. We did—at least, I did.
“Where do you want to sit? Up close, in the middle?” I waited for her to decide.
“Back here.” I followed her down the aisle of the last row.
Hooking up was the main reason kids from Gatlin went to the Cineplex, considering any movie showing there was already on DVD. But it was the only reason you sat in the last three rows. The Cineplex, the water tower, and in the summer, the lake. Aside from that, there were a few bathrooms and basements, but not many other options. I knew we wouldn’t be doing any hooking up, but even if it was like that between us I wouldn’t have brought her here to do it. Lena wasn’t just some girl you took to the last three rows of the Cineplex. She was more than that.
Still, it was her choice, and I knew why she chose it. You couldn’t get farther away from Emily Asher than the last row.
Maybe I should have warned her. Before the opening credits, people were already starting to go at it. We both stared at the popcorn, since there was nowhere else safe to look.
Why didn’t you say anything?
I didn’t know.
Liar.
I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Honest.
I pushed it all to the back of my mind, thinking about anything, the weather, basketball, and reached into the popcorn tub. Lena reached in at the same time, and our hands touched for a second, sending a chill up my arm, hot and cold all mixed up together. Pick ’n’ Roll. Picket Fences. Down the Lane. There were only so many plays in the Jackson basketball playbook. This was going to be harder than I thought.
The movie was terrible. Ten minutes in, I already knew the ending.
“He did it,” I whispered.
“What?”
“That guy. He’s the murderer. I don’t know who he kills, but he did it.” That was the other reason Link didn’t want to sit by me: I always knew the ending at the beginning and I couldn’t keep it to myself. It was my version of doing the crossword. It was the reason I was so good at video games, carnival games, checkers with my dad. I could figure things out, right from the first move.
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
How does this end?
I knew what she meant. But for the first time, I just didn’t know the answer.
Happy. Very, very happy.
