There was also a strange light in her eyes that I wasn’t quite ready to delve into.
“Do you really think Saffron will allow me to work off my room and board by giving ghost tours?” Lark questions. Oh, and there’s also that.
The sneaky older woman shrugged at me, then told Lark she was old enough for a job, and she’d teach her the town lore and let her take over the ghost tours because, and I quote, “It’ll help an old lady out.”
What could I possibly say to that?
“More than likely. She seemed far too jovial about it as well.”
“She did, didn’t she?” my inquisitive little bird replies. “She’s up to something.”
I hum in agreement. “Do you want to watch through the front, or enjoy the experience of the movie in the truck bed?” I ask, though I’m already cold and the thought of sitting in the bed makes me shiver.
“I want to say the truck, but logic says to stay in here because of the heater and all.”
“I want to experience the drive-in in that natural state as well.” I pull onto a road, driving aimlessly because neither of us know exactly where we are going. We pass a row of perfect little cottage-like homes.
“It’s like the cottage in that fairy tale.” Lark leans forward, her eyes wide with innocence.
“The one where the witch lures in those unsuspecting children just to eat them?” She isn’t wrong. They are older, but not as old as the town, and beautiful with mixed stone, white picket fences, and chimneys billowing plumes of smoke that reach for the clouds.
“That got dark.”
“That’s the one you were talking about, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Defeated, she sits back.
“Oh, come on! I’m sure there isn’t a single witch that lives here.” I’m not convinced, those cottages look suspicious. I barrel on down the next road, seeing a mountain rise in the distance, while more and more trees dot the landscape. Ahead, a signblares “70s drive-in” with a big arrow, telling me my aimless driving led me right where I needed to be.
Oh, and there’s a moose on the sign.
The stone crunches under the tires as we pull up to a booth with a tall, lanky man leaning out with thick black spectacles on his face.
“Ah, the Finnley girls.” He leans down to peer at us. “That’s five dollars. Do you want popcorn?”
“Extra butter please.”
“Ten dollars.”
“Five for popcorn?”
“I like to round up to the fives.”
“Mom, just pay the man,” Lark whispers in embarrassment, though the cost of the drive-in makes no sense.
“Is a soda five dollars?”
“Yep,” he answers in a crisp, clipped tone.
No wonder Saffron packed us a bunch of food and drinks. I hand over the ten, denying the soda and accepting the popcorn, and he waves us on.
A rock wall drifts up before us, leading to a mountain peak off in the distance. This must be the start of those trails I keep hearing about. But it’s the movie screen attached to the side of the mountain that draws the eye.
“What an intriguing use of a rock wall,” I murmur, pulling into an empty space.
“It is peculiar.”
“And it’s even too.”
