I hope she’s right.
17
By Wednesday morning, Amari’s attitude has changed. Over text the last few days, she’s seemed less animated about everything and almost like she doesn’t even want to meet up anymore. But the plan is still on. She said no one goes to the movies right after school so we’ll have at least ninety minutes to catch up at the theater.
I told my mom I needed some time to myself and asked if she could drop me off, hoping it would keep her from suspecting anything. She had to work, so she said I should have Kayla take me, or I could get an Uber. This is the first time since I came home that she’s let me travel somewhere on my own, and I feel bad about lying to her when she trusts me. But it doesn’t change my decision. I choose the Uber option and tell Kayla I’m catching up with someone from the center. She makes me share my location “in case I go missing,” and even says she can pick me up after if I need her to.
The car drops me off at exactly three thirty p.m. in front of the Tinsley Picture House. It’s a brick building with a marquee out front displaying the showtimes for a few old movies. I chuckle at how much this makes me regret not taking advantage of the big AMC movie theater right outside of Lorial. I was there a bunch of times, but for purposes other than whatit was made for. It mostly served as the meeting spot for everyone’s hallway feuds and school romances to play out without supervision.
Amari is at the door. Her hair is down again, like at the carnival, and it even looks like she put a little makeup on. I straighten my uniform.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hi,” I say.
The chill of blaring AC hits my face as I step into the lobby behind her. I shiver a bit. It’s a little too dark to be welcoming and reminds me of the movie theaters that small towns have in scary movies.
“We’re seeingGladiatorat four.” Amari shows me the tickets on her screen.
“What do I owe you?” I ask.
“Some answers. Want something?” She points to the concession stand a few steps away.
I see two theaters up ahead, directly across from each other, and there’s no one else around. I immediately relax; she was right that this is the perfect time and place to meet.
“Sour Patch Kids,” I say.
As she places our order, I stand off to the side and watch her. The girl behind the counter is laughing and hanging on her every word.
At the carnival, it was such a shock to run into Amari. I thought that choosing to see her in real life would feel different, that this time I might feel happier, but I just feel guilty. Toward Deanna. Toward my mom. Even toward Kayla, who really is like a sister to me. I’m jeopardizing all these budding relationships just by being here. It’s not Amari’s fault, of course, and yet, it’s hard to feel the same way about her that I did before.
The smell of popcorn is so strong that my mouth starts watering. The girl behind the counter is drowning a batch in butter, to Amari’s delight. She turns to me. “You sure you don’t want some?”
I cave. “Fine, but maybe from over there,” I say, pointing to the only dry section of popcorn I can still see.
She orders another, plus two Cokes. The girl shovels butter-drenched popcorn into one bucket and then uses the same scoop to fill the other.
Amari chuckles.
“Did you want the candy too?” I ask her.
“Mmhmm,” she says.
When it’s time to pay, I move closer to try to see the damage. She swipes her card too quickly for me to catch anything but notices me looking. “Don’t worry, it’s on you next time,” she says, handing me my snacks.
“Next time?” I ask. “Let’s slow down.”
She rolls her eyes and puts her card back in her wallet. I know she’s mad at me, but I’m not sure I can fix that, or even that I want to.
We head to our theater. The guy checking tickets says hi to Amari like he knows her and waves us in. I try to keep up with her and end up leaving a trail of popcorn all the way down the aisle. She stops at a row too close to the screen and sees the mess.
“Nice job.” She laughs, walking to the middle of the row. “Let’s sit here. These are my favorite seats.” I look around at empty seats that would be better for my eyes and consider suggesting another set. But we’re not really here to watch the movie.
Amari sits down. “You hate them?”
“No, it’s fine,” I lie, and slide into the spot next to her.
She barely waits for me to sit down before she starts with the questions. “So, why are you ignoring me? What happened to being stuck, forever?”
