I pretended I was deaf—I wished I was then, that’s for sure—and then Beth dragged everyone into a discussion of whose butt was the biggest. (“Oh, mine is, totally.”
“No, mine is!” “No way, mine totally is!”) Mel came back with tickets, finally, and said, “Hey, you owe me ten for yours, okay?” as we got in line to get into the theater.
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I dug around in my pockets, feeling for money that I knew wasn’t there and vowing to never agree to anything Mel asked again, while Patrick stood next to Mel on his other side, hands jammed in his pockets and staring at the floor. Beth, who was right behind me, snorted and muttered something to Corn Syrup. I didn’t think Mel heard her, but he must have because he muttered something to Patrick and then told me, “Never mind the money, I got it.”
When we finally got into the theater Mel and I didn’t even sit next to each other. I ended up in the seat next to the aisle one, Corn Syrup on one side of me and Patrick on the other. Patrick and I shared an armrest, but since neither of us was using it—I was sitting with my arms across my chest, feeling like I was back in middle school just waiting for Beth, Anne Alice, and Caro to decide they were mad at me for something, and Patrick was turned around in his seat, staring up the aisle at the door like he’d somehow forgotten where it was—there wasn’t a problem.
Mel sat next to Caro, and they, naturally, started arguing over their armrest.
“I put my arm on it first,” Caro said.
“No, you didn’t, and besides, touching the armrest doesn’t mean you own it,” Mel said.
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They ended up going at it just like they did in English class, and watching them, it became pretty clear that their arguing was a strange sort of flirting. They were even both doing that lean-in-toward-each-other thing when Beth, who was on Mel’s other side, whispered something in his ear. Caro immediately tossed her hair and pretended to be bored with Mel. It didn’t really work.
She mostly looked unhappy.
Beth leaned back, bumping her arm into Mel’s in a way that was more of a caress, and then whispered something else to him. He laughed, and I wondered why Mel wasn’t dating her, but then the previews started and when Caro jumped during a trailer for a completely unscary horror movie I saw Mel reach one hand out toward her and then stop.
Now, as Beth so kindly pointed out, I may be a social retard, but even I could guess Mel liked Corn Syrup with that kind of clue. So how come he hadn’t asked Caro to the movies? He didn’t strike me as shy or anything.
And, more importantly, why had he brought me here?
By the time the movie started, I felt pretty bad, exhausted and sad and strange, and then something supposedly hilarious happened on-screen—some old guy 102
stumbling around, crashing into things as he had a heart attack, landing with his hands grabbing the cute young girl’s breasts right as he died—and everyone laughed.
And there was something about that laughter, that
maybe it was all those voices in the dark, or maybe it was just that bits and pieces of all those laughs sounded like Julia’s, like I could almost hear her. Whatever it was, the whole theater suddenly seemed like it wasn’t real, and I was afraid if I moved everything around me would fall away and I’d be lost.
I felt shaky and weirdly dizzy—not like everything was spinning, but like I was spinning, and I knew it was wrong for me to be there. I shouldn’t be at the movies, even if it was in the middle of a bizarre situation I didn’t get and with a bunch of people I didn’t like. I had to get out. I had to get away and—
Drink.
I wanted a drink. I wanted one so bad.
Somehow I managed to get out of the theater, and as I was wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans and heading to the lobby, I realized I hadn’t had to step over anyone in order to leave. Patrick had left too.
I thought it was weird, but then Patrick was weird, and then I couldn’t think at all because the unsteadiness 103
came back, the lobby and the crowds of people standing around waiting for their movie to start turning into a spinning blur of color and faces. I had to get out of there. Even more than I wanted a drink, I wanted to go home.
I thought about going back and telling Mel I was leaving, but I figured he wouldn’t even notice I was gone and I was starting to feel like I was going to pass out or worse.
I managed to find a pay phone—Mom and Dad want me to prove I’m “ready” to have a cell again, which is stupid because who would I call if I had one?—and called home.
Dad said he’d come get me right away and as soon as I hung up I sat down on the floor right by the phone, not caring that people were staring.
That didn’t last long. I’ve always hated it when people stare at me, because I know they’re seeing how I’m too tall and have weird-colored hair, and being the only person sitting down in a huge shifting swarm of people meant everyone was stepping on my feet or stepping over them and staring at me, the girl on the floor. I stood up and scuttled along the wall to an exit.
Outside, I felt better. Everything didn’t seem so bright, so closed in, and I rubbed my still sweating and now shaking hands down my arms. A couple pushed past me, bumping into me like I wasn’t there. Maybe I wasn’t.
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I sure felt like I wasn’t. I walked blindly down the sidewalk, head bent so I wouldn’t have to see anything, and hoped Dad would come soon.
