Kindred Spirits by Rainbow Rowell Page B

there’d be other girls here,” her mom said.
    “There will be.”
    “Good. I’ll bring you back after they get here.”
    “I’ve gotta go,” Elena said. “I’m trying to conserve my phone battery.”
    “Elena—”
    “I’ve got to go!” Elena hung up.
    The first theater employees started showing up around two. One, who looked like the manager—a Latino guy in his thirties, wearing maroon pants and a matching
tie—stopped in front of the line and crossed his arms.
    “So we’ve got a new addition, huh?”
    Elena smiled.
    He didn’t smile back. “You know you can buy your ticket online, right?”
    “I already bought my ticket,” Elena said.
    “Then you’re guaranteed a seat. You don’t have to wait in line.”
    “Um,” Elena said. “That’s OK.”
    “You can’t talk her out of this,” Troy said. “She’s a true believer.”
    “I’m not trying to talk anybody out of anything,” the manager said, looking harried. “I’m just explaining that this is an unnecessary gesture.”
    “All the best ones are,” Troy said. “Now open the doors. My bladder is about explode.”
    The manager sighed. “I don’t have to let you use the restroom, you know.”
    “Give it up, Mark,” Troy said. “They tried that during
Phantom Menace
, and it didn’t work then either.”
    “I should make you hoof it to Starbucks,” the manager said, walking towards the front doors and unlocking them.
    Troy stood up and made a big show of stretching. “We take turns,” he said to Elena, “in line order.”
    She nodded.
    The manager, Mark, held the door for Troy, but he was still looking at Elena. “Do your parents know you’re here?”
    “I’m eighteen,” she said.
    He looked surprised. “Well, all right. Then I guess you’re old enough to waste your own time.”
    Elena was hoping Gabe would open up a little while Troy was gone. They’d been sitting next to each other for hours now, and he’d only said a few words. She thought maybe he was being
so quiet because he didn’t want to get Troy going on one of his stories. (Troy had
so
many stories—he’d camped out for every Star Wars opening since
The Empire Strikes
Back—
and he was clearly pleased to have a captive audience.)
    But Gabe, with his navy-blue peacoat and his gunmetal glasses, just sat there reading about the history of polio and ignoring her.
    When Troy came out with an extra-large sack of popcorn, Gabe nodded at Elena. “Go ahead.”
    “I’m fine,” Elena said. “I just got here.” She wasn’t fine; she had to pee so bad she was worried she was going to leak when she stood up.
    Gabe didn’t move. So Elena got up and walked into the theater. The manager kept an eye on her the whole time, like she might sneak in to see a movie. She should. It was so
warm
inside the theater.
    When she got back outside, Gabe took his turn.
    “We have to save his spot,” Troy said, “and look out for his things as if they were our own. Code of the Line.” He held his bag of popcorn out over Gabe’s sleeping
bag.
    Elena took some. “What invalidates the code?” she asked.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Like, are there any circumstances where someone loses their spot?”
    “That is a fine question,” he said. “I mean, some things are obvious. If someone takes off, without telling anyone or leaving any collateral—they’re out. I think
there’s a time limit, too. Like, you can’t just go home and take a nap and expect to come back to your spot. Everybody else is here, earning it, you know? You don’t get a free
pass for that. Though there are always exceptions . . .”
    “There are?”
    “We’re human. We had a guy in the
Phantom Menace
line who had to leave for therapy. We saved his place. But another guy tried to go to work, he said he was going to lose his
job . . . We pushed his tent out of line.”
    “You did?” Popcorn fell out of Elena’s mouth. She picked it up. “That’s
brutal
.”
    “No—” Troy was