Since You've Been Gone (19 page)

“Crazy running into you here,” Frank said, shaking his head. “This place is awesome. Have you ever been before?”

“Yeah,” I murmured, feeling my heart racing ever faster in my chest, getting closer and closer to what I was pretty sure was a panic attack. The front of the line was just three people away, and I hadn’t been able to get rid of Frank or properly psych myself up to commit my first crime. “A lot.”

“I’m only here because of Collins,” Frank went on, apparently thinking we were just having a nice conversation, not realizing that I was on the verge of an aneurysm. “He’s got a thing for the girl who runs the projection booth. But now that I’m here, it’s really—”

“You know what,” I said, stepping out of line. “I actually . . . forgot something. So you order, and I’ll get the thing I forgot, and, um . . . see you around, okay?” I stepped out of the line and walked in the direction of my car. I glanced back to see Frank looking at me, his brow furrowed, but then he stepped to the front of the line to order, and I went to the back of the line, which now seemed impossibly long. I was no longer sure if I’d even have enough time to do this before the concessions break was over.

I let out a breath and tried to get my thoughts in order. I could still do this. I just had to focus. The line moved forward
quicker than I expected, and I realized, my stomach clenching, that there was only one other person in front of me, an older lady who was having trouble deciding between the Sno-Caps and the Junior Mints. I looked at the sign, then down into my huge, waiting bag.

“Next!” I looked ahead and saw that behind the counter was a concession worker I hadn’t seen before, a guy who looked college-aged and bored—which was pretty much perfect.

“Hi,” I said, stepping forward, hearing that my voice sounded about twice as high as normal. I didn’t make eye contact with the guy as I said, “Small popcorn with butter and a Diet Coke.”

“Eight even,” the guy said, and I handed the cash I had ready over to him as the register drawer slid open with a
ding!
“Pickup’s to your left. Next!”

I stepped to the side, letting my bag fall open slightly as I tried to look nonchalant. I pretended to yawn and stretched my arm out for the sign, my fingers just brushing the edge of it. I stretched farther out, almost off-balance, heart pounding, nearly grabbing it—

“Small popcorn and a Diet Coke.” A girl had stepped up with my snacks, and I was so startled by this that I felt myself pitching forward, just barely catching myself before face-planting onto the counter. The sign wobbled and tipped forward, and the girl grabbed it, looking from the sign and then back to me with narrowed eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I . . . ,” I started. I could feel the sweat beading on my upper lip and my heart wasn’t pounding hard any longer, it now seemed to be pumping a lot slower than usual, which struck me as a bad sign. “I just . . .”

“Did you get that arm cramp again?” Suddenly, there was Frank, stepping up next to me. He slid his arm around my shoulders, and this was so startling that any excuse I might have been forming left my head entirely. “She gets those sometimes. Don’t you?”

“I do,” I said, nodding, trying to look as innocent as I could manage. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

“Don’t forget your snacks,” Frank said, giving my shoulder a squeeze, keeping a trustworthy, class-president smile on his face. I picked them up and we both smiled brightly at the girl, who was watching us with a suspicious expression. She went to put the sign back, but then hesitated and moved it to the highest shelf of the concession counter, right behind the popcorn popper, meaning that it was basically now impossible to get.

Frank and I walked away, and when we’d gone almost back to the cars and it appeared the concessions police weren’t going to give chase, I felt myself start to breathe again. I took a long drink of my soda, and it wasn’t until I’d finished that I realized Frank still had his arm around me. He must have noticed this at the same time, because he dropped his arm and took a step away.

“So,” I said, still a little surprised that he had been able to see just when I needed him. “Um, how did you—”

“I have
never
seen anyone look so suspicious,” Frank said, shaking his head. “Ever. I figured I should probably stay close, just in case.”

“Oh,” I said, looking down at the ground. Even though rationally I knew that not being good at stealing was actually a positive thing, and not something to be ashamed of, it didn’t currently change how I was feeling—like I’d just failed.

“So . . . uh, why were you trying to rob the concession stand?” Frank asked, sounding baffled.

“It’s for the list,” I said, raising one shoulder in a shrug. “Number three.”

Frank glanced back at the sign, and I saw him reading Sloane’s name, putting it together. He nodded and started to say something just as the loudspeakers crackled to life, announcing the movie’s start in sixty seconds and the closing of the concession stand.

“I should go,” I said. I knew that I should probably thank him for helping me, and that if he hadn’t, I might be in serious trouble. But it really is humiliating to fail at something and then need to be rescued, even if that thing is committing a crime. I gave him a small smile and then headed to my own car, glancing over my shoulder to see Frank walking away as well.

I’d intended to make a getaway after grabbing the sign and not stay for the second movie. But it was clear as I got into my car that I wasn’t going anywhere—the people in the rows behind me had pretty much boxed me in, and everyone was
watching the movie, and I had a feeling that nobody was going to be happy to move if I tried to get out. So I put my drink into the cupholder and pushed my seat back, settling in. As I did so, I wondered if I was the only person at the whole drive-in who was watching the movie alone.

APRIL

Two months earlier

“How much did you offer this time?” I asked, as Sloane came back to the car, without the sign but holding an armful of our snacks.

“A hundred,” she said with a sigh. “And they
still
wouldn’t take it. I swear, at this rate, I’m going to need to bribe one of the employees.”

“Or you could start working there,” I suggested, as I took the popcorn from her and grabbed a handful off the top. “And get hired under a fake name. And it could be an inside job.”

Sloane grinned at me. “I like the way you’re thinking,” she said. “What name?”

I thought about it, just enjoying the game. We were there to see a double feature of
Clueless
and
Troop Beverly Hills,
which meant that there were almost no guys in attendance at all. It seemed to be moms and daughters and groups of friends, like us. Since Sam had arrived on the scene, it felt like it had been a long time since just Sloane and I had hung
out, and I’d been looking forward to this for weeks. “Alicia,” I said, after thinking it over. “Alicia Paramount.”

Sloane threw her head back and laughed. “I love it,” she said. “I’ll apply next week.”

I started to walk around to the back of the Volvo. Once I’d gotten my license and we didn’t have to watch on the grass any longer, we’d figured out the ideal movie-watching routine—my car turned around backward, the hatchback open, and both of us in the back, lying on pillows and blankets that would inevitably smell like popcorn for days afterward. “Coming?” I asked, when I realized that she was still standing outside the car, looking around.

“Yeah,” she said, following behind me. But she didn’t get into the back, just stood outside it, craning her neck like she was looking for something, fiddling with her keys—including the personalized SLOANE mini license plate keychain I’d special-ordered for her birthday—which was what she did when she was nervous.

“You okay?” I asked as I opened the Twizzlers and pulled one out, biting both ends off and then sticking it into my Diet Coke.

“Sure,” she said. “I’m—” But she didn’t finish this, as her phone beeped with a text. She pulled it out immediately and read it, smiling down at the screen as she typed a quick response back.

“Sam?” I guessed, taking a drink through the Twizzler.

“Yeah,” she said, pocketing her phone and looking at me. There was a flush in her cheeks and I noticed how much more alive she now looked—happier, and more excited, like now things were actually happening, whereas before, they hadn’t been. “So here’s the thing,” she said talking fast. “I told Sam we were going to be here, but I wasn’t sure if he was going to come or not, but then—”

“Hey, you.” There was Sam, sliding his arms around Sloane’s waist and kissing her cheek.

“Hi,” Sloane said, smiling wide as she turned to kiss him, and I could hear the happiness in her voice so clearly. “You’re here! I wasn’t sure if you were going to show.”

“Of course I’m here,” he said easily. He slung his arm around her neck, letting his fingertips rest on her arm. “Oh, hi, Emily,” he said, as if he’d just noticed me.

“Hey, Sam,” I said, trying to sound excited to see him, like I was happy he was here, not like I was disappointed that my night with Sloane had suddenly come to a crashing halt.

“Nice straw,” he said with a short laugh, nodding at my cup with the Twizzler poking out of it. “Wow. God. I haven’t seen that since I was, like, eleven.”

“Yeah,” I said, with an embarrassed laugh. “It’s . . .” I wasn’t sure how to finish this, so I just let my voice trail away. Sam was still looking at me, raising his eyebrows like he was challenging me to finish the sentence. He gave me a pitying smile, then squeezed Sloane’s shoulder, threading his fingers
through hers. “Come on,” he said, nodding toward the far side of the field. “I’ve got a great spot.”

“Oh,” Sloane said, looking from me to Sam, some of the happiness fading from her expression. “I was thinking we could all watch together, maybe?”

Sam just laughed again, and I noticed, maybe for the first time, that he used his laughs to score points, like a punctuation mark, not because he found something funny. “I think Emily will be fine,” he said, looking over at me, already starting to steer Sloane away from me. “Won’t you, Em?”

There was absolutely no way to respond to this question except in the affirmative, and as I looked at Sloane’s expression, I could see this was all she wanted—she wanted to be able to keep Sam happy, to go off with him, and for me to be okay with it. “Sure,” I said, giving her a smile I didn’t quite feel, wondering for a second if she’d be able to tell the difference. “You kids go have fun.” I’d intended this to be funny, but it somehow didn’t seem funny once I’d said it, Sam just looking at me quizzically, Sloane not laughing at my jokes like she normally did.

“Uh, okay,” he said. He gave me a nod. “See you around, Em.”

“Bye,” I called as Sam started to walk away. Sloane turned back to look at me, and we had a fast and furious conversation as we mouthed our words—
Are you sure? Yes! Go have fun! Call you tomorrow? Yes!

She shot me one last happy, excited smile, then turned back to Sam, already laughing at something he was saying.

I watched them go, feeling my own smile fade until it was gone. I climbed into the open back and took a sip from my soda. But the Twizzler suddenly made the soda too cloyingly sweet, and I pulled it out, replacing it with a regular straw instead. It was pretty childish, after all. I probably should have stopped doing it a while back.

I settled into the back, sticking to my side of the car even though there was no need to, trying to tell myself that things were fine, that I should be happy for Sloane. She’d met a guy she really liked, and what kind of best friend would I be if I couldn’t be excited for her? Everything would be okay. And by the time the credits rolled, I’d even started to believe it.

Since I’d had no impending crime-committing to worry about, I’d actually been able to follow
The Lady Vanishes
, and I’d really liked it, though I did wonder why Hitchcock was so obsessed with trains—both of these movies had seemed to feature a
lot
of them.

I had stayed in my car for a bit, just looking at the darkened screen. The line leaving the drive-in was always epic, bottlenecks forming at the exit, and everyone honking, even though this accomplished absolutely nothing. Sloane and I had always just hung out in the car, lying back against the pillows and finishing
the last of the snacks, discussing the movies or just talking.