we’ll check it out, and we’ll come back. No big deal.”
I catch the sting in her voice, and it rankles. No one has ever accused me of being a baby. “And you’re sure this is a well-known thing to do in town? Nobody is gonna think anything of us being in the theatre?”
Angel hands me my jeans and shirt. “I can’t believe you haven’t heard of it yet, Katie. Just get dressed. It’s totally cool.”
“Well, if it’s so cool then why are we sneaking out of your house at 3:30 in the morning to see it?”
“Because supposedly this ghost guy only comes out after dark, that’s why. And my mom doesn’t care if we go or not, as long as we leave her alone.”
I believe Angel about the last part. Coach Nelson had been upstairs in her room during the entire sleepover. I saw her maybe once, and all she did was yell at us to turn down the TV during our horror movie marathon. She didn’t seem too interested in anything Angel had going on.
“Katie, we’re going. You can stay here or you can go with us. We thought you’d feel grateful we included you, but whatever.” And with that, Angel, Danielle, and three other girls I had met that night file out the door, leaving me standing in the middle of the living room.
“I guess this is what we get for trying to be your friend,” Danielle says in parting, pulling the door shut.
Well.
This is awkward.
Grabbing my shoes and the phone the Scotts gave me, I run out the door and race to the waiting car.
“Come on, Katie! Get in!” Vincent is holding open the door to his Honda Civic. The spinners on the wheels reflect the streetlights.
Here goes nothing.
We drive for about five minutes. Five very uncomfortable minutes. Vincent is a smoker. A generous one—he shares his lit cigarette with nearly everyone in the car. I decline. There are a lot of ways I don’t fit the poor-orphaned-girl stereotype, and this is definitely one of them. Don’t these people ever listen in health class? Don’t they know what’s in those things? I’m not inhaling asbestos and antifreeze, thank you very much. Well, actually right now, I am inhaling them, but not by choice.
Besides the air being contaminated in here, my rear end is asleep. The Civic is one small car, and somehow there are seven of us in here. We’re all packed in like sardines, completely disregarding the seat-belt laws. In fact, I’m pretty sure one of the seat belts is wedged tightly in my nether-regions.
The car slows and Vincent turns his headlights off. “We’re here. Everybody out.”
Vincent directs everyone out of the car and toward the structure I assume is the theatre. I’m already a little creeped out.
While everyone runs around to the back of the building, I stand out front, rooted to the spot. I shine the flashlight I was given, illuminating large wooden doors, a glass box office trimmed in brass, and an old-time marquis at the tip top that says “Valiant” in Art Deco letters. I don’t want to look away; it’s so pretty. I run my hands over the glass panes of the box office and imagine someone taking money from a flapper or a dude in a fancy hat. This theatre has seen a lot of years. I wonder if anybody famous has ever been here.
“Katie!”
I heave a sigh. I guess I can admire the architecture later. Maybe in the daylight like a normal person.
“Come on, we don’t have all night.”
Angel grabs me by the jacket sleeve, and we run around the building to where the others disappeared. Angel points to a window above us. “Come on, give me a boost, then me and Vinnie’ll pull you in.”
“What? I thought we weren’t breaking in?”
“Would you relax? Quit making this a big deal. This is just the easiest way to get in. Now put your hands like this so you can lift me up.” Angel interlocks her fingers and motions for me to do the same.
Fine. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can get back to the house.
Angel goes up and over with no problem. Now it’s my turn. Vincent and Angel
I catch the sting in her voice, and it rankles. No one has ever accused me of being a baby. “And you’re sure this is a well-known thing to do in town? Nobody is gonna think anything of us being in the theatre?”
Angel hands me my jeans and shirt. “I can’t believe you haven’t heard of it yet, Katie. Just get dressed. It’s totally cool.”
“Well, if it’s so cool then why are we sneaking out of your house at 3:30 in the morning to see it?”
“Because supposedly this ghost guy only comes out after dark, that’s why. And my mom doesn’t care if we go or not, as long as we leave her alone.”
I believe Angel about the last part. Coach Nelson had been upstairs in her room during the entire sleepover. I saw her maybe once, and all she did was yell at us to turn down the TV during our horror movie marathon. She didn’t seem too interested in anything Angel had going on.
“Katie, we’re going. You can stay here or you can go with us. We thought you’d feel grateful we included you, but whatever.” And with that, Angel, Danielle, and three other girls I had met that night file out the door, leaving me standing in the middle of the living room.
“I guess this is what we get for trying to be your friend,” Danielle says in parting, pulling the door shut.
Well.
This is awkward.
Grabbing my shoes and the phone the Scotts gave me, I run out the door and race to the waiting car.
“Come on, Katie! Get in!” Vincent is holding open the door to his Honda Civic. The spinners on the wheels reflect the streetlights.
Here goes nothing.
We drive for about five minutes. Five very uncomfortable minutes. Vincent is a smoker. A generous one—he shares his lit cigarette with nearly everyone in the car. I decline. There are a lot of ways I don’t fit the poor-orphaned-girl stereotype, and this is definitely one of them. Don’t these people ever listen in health class? Don’t they know what’s in those things? I’m not inhaling asbestos and antifreeze, thank you very much. Well, actually right now, I am inhaling them, but not by choice.
Besides the air being contaminated in here, my rear end is asleep. The Civic is one small car, and somehow there are seven of us in here. We’re all packed in like sardines, completely disregarding the seat-belt laws. In fact, I’m pretty sure one of the seat belts is wedged tightly in my nether-regions.
The car slows and Vincent turns his headlights off. “We’re here. Everybody out.”
Vincent directs everyone out of the car and toward the structure I assume is the theatre. I’m already a little creeped out.
While everyone runs around to the back of the building, I stand out front, rooted to the spot. I shine the flashlight I was given, illuminating large wooden doors, a glass box office trimmed in brass, and an old-time marquis at the tip top that says “Valiant” in Art Deco letters. I don’t want to look away; it’s so pretty. I run my hands over the glass panes of the box office and imagine someone taking money from a flapper or a dude in a fancy hat. This theatre has seen a lot of years. I wonder if anybody famous has ever been here.
“Katie!”
I heave a sigh. I guess I can admire the architecture later. Maybe in the daylight like a normal person.
“Come on, we don’t have all night.”
Angel grabs me by the jacket sleeve, and we run around the building to where the others disappeared. Angel points to a window above us. “Come on, give me a boost, then me and Vinnie’ll pull you in.”
“What? I thought we weren’t breaking in?”
“Would you relax? Quit making this a big deal. This is just the easiest way to get in. Now put your hands like this so you can lift me up.” Angel interlocks her fingers and motions for me to do the same.
Fine. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can get back to the house.
Angel goes up and over with no problem. Now it’s my turn. Vincent and Angel
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