I didn’t like this dead look on her face. What the fuck was going on?
Starting the truck, I pulled out my phone and dialed as I drove out of the parking lot, turning to head toward the village.
She absently pulled her seatbelt across her body, fastening it.
Roger Culpepper answered on the other end. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Will. Can you open the doors?”
“It’s nine a.m.” he told me.
“Just open the theater,” I told him again. “Then you can go back to sleep.”
I hung up before he had a chance to argue and looked over at Em, who just stared out the window. She’d stopped crying and just relaxed back into the seat, looking sad but comfortable.
I stared out at the road as we headed back into town, unable to help the smile peeking out. Sorry, D. That’s her seat now.
• • •
Roger had the movie theater unlocked for us when we arrived, and I parked in the alley so no one would spot my truck off school grounds. Emmy didn’t ask any questions as I parked her in one of the theaters and left to grab snacks.
Culpepper managed the theater and had been here for the nightly festival until a few hours ago. I felt bad about waking him up and dragging his ass in, but ever since my impromptu birthday party last May after prom, my parents took my keys to the theater so I couldn’t let myself—or others—in.
Roger relaxed when he saw it was just one girl. He loaded the film, dimmed the lights, I made the popcorn, and after he left, I locked the doors again and carried a handful of junk food into theater three.
“Hungry?” I asked, slipping her drink into her cupholder.
She looked up at me, her eyes still red but always beautiful. She shifted nervously in her seat and looked behind her toward the doors, probably scared we were going to be caught.
“It’s gonna be okay.” I set down the rest of the snacks and picked the popcorn back up as I sat down. “I know a kid who works in the office. I already called and told him to mark you present in every class today.”
Plus, I had her turn off her cell phone in the truck, since I knew her brother might be tracking her. My parents threatened me with that from time to time.
I stuck some popcorn in my mouth and offered her some, the credits rolling on the film in front of us.
But she just stared at me.
“You know a kid?” she repeated, her usual snark painted all over her face with a big fat brush. “Of course, you have the whole school wired, because—”
“Thank you would be the correct response,” I said, mid-chew.
She gaped at me.
“Try it out,” I told her.
She closed her mouth, straightening her shoulders, but after a moment she dropped her defiant little chin and mumbled, “Thank you.”
Sitting back in her seat, she took her Coke and held it between her legs, and after a few minutes, I offered her some popcorn. She took it, pecking at her handful like a bird.
It was a rotten breakfast, but it was better than eating nothing, and I wasn’t sure she’d eaten yet today.
The trailers ran, and slowly, I felt her relax next to me, her eyes focused on the screen.
The opening scenes began, but instead of watching the movie I’d already seen, I watched her instead. Her eyes moved up and down and all around, mesmerized by the action, and her hand with a piece of popcorn stopped halfway to her mouth as she forgot all else.
“What is this?” she asked, but she didn’t take her eyes off the screen. “Is this...?”
The corner of my mouth lifted in a smile.
“Underworld: Awakening?” she finally said and looked over at me. “This doesn’t come out until January. How do you have it already?”
I cocked an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes, remembering who I was.
“Of course,” she retorted. “Must be nice to—”
I looked back at the screen, clearing my throat extra loudly.
She halted whatever insult was on the tip of her tongue and let out a little laugh. “Thank you,” she told me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Yeah, shut up,” I teased. “Just watch the movie.”
She focused her bright eyes back on the screen, a smile still spread across her mouth that I had a hard time ignoring. I’d seen her in the theater by herself from time to time, so I figured this was her happy place.
We watched, and as the movie played, she started to change. Her eyes got bigger, her color came back, and I even heard her laugh once.
I held out the Twizzlers and Milk Duds, giving her first choice, but when she picked the Milk Duds, I opened the carton and spilled half in my hand before giving her the rest of the box. I gave her a choice to be nice. I didn’t actually want the Twizzlers.
I ate and she ate, and I snuck peeks at her throughout the film, watching her more than the movie.
She noticed, because she finally glanced over at me, catching my eyes. “What?” she asked, turning her eyes back to the screen.
“You’re not what I expected,” I said. “You like action movies, huh?”
“You don’t?”
I laughed. She was back to shaming my anti-feminist remarks. Yay for normal.
After a moment, she spoke up, her voice soft. “I don’t think about anything else when I’m watching them,” she explained. “They take me away. It’s an escape. I like the survival aspect in some of them, too. Ordinary people becoming extraordinary. Being called to do great things.” She rolled a Milk Dud between her fingers, watching the screen. “Hell hones heroes, you know? I feel it when I watch them.”
What did she need to escape, though? I didn’t ask, because that would only put her on guard, and I didn’t want her to run.
“Well, I prefer the classics,” I told her. “Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone…”
“Jean-Claude Van Damme,” we both said at the same time.
She turned to me, and I laughed.
“Yes,” she said, smiling.
“Fuck yes.” I nodded. “I mean, the Muscles from Brussels? Hell yeah.”
“Bloodsport,” she added.
“Kickboxer,” I chimed in.
Great movies. The eighties were the golden age. Ordinary people going to war—battling for honor. I mean, you just don’t get movies like Lethal Weapon, Beverly Hills Cop, and Cobra anymore.
You’re the disease, and I’m the cure. Booyah.
But then, Em started laughing, her pearly white teeth gleaming in the biggest smile I’d ever seen on the smartass little shit.
I pinched my eyebrows together. “What?”
What was she going to make fun of me for now?
“Kickboxer,” she said between giggles. “That scene where his teacher gets him drunk in a bar to see if he can fight intoxicated, and he starts dancing. Just the thought reminded me of you there for a minute.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Big guy, super happy, having fun… I don’t know.” She stuck a piece of candy in her mouth. “Just seems like something you would do.”
She sat back in her seat and looked up at the movie again.
“Hang around more and maybe you’ll find out,” I taunted.
I could dance. I could dance really well.