The Break-Up Artist

10

Movie Tonight? I scribble down my note, write Val’s name on it and stretch my arms behind my head.

My classmates fidget in their seats, restlessly readjusting themselves in their chairs. It’s Friday, eighth-period Latin class, and I can feel the excitement about the weekend pulsating through the room. Except for Bari, whose blank, drained face stares at the board as if it’s Monday morning. She trudges out of class once the bell rings, avoiding all people. A pang of guilt jabs at me, but it’s for the best. I’m not evil; I’m a Good Samaritan. One day, she’ll thank me—or, she would if I could tell her who I was.

I walk in between desks to get to Val.

“So what time should I pick you up tonight?” I ask. “The movie starts at seven forty-five.”

Val hugs her two books and notebook to her chest. “Great,” she says with hesitation. “Is it okay if Ezra joins us?”

My Friday excitement dissipates. I struggle for an answer. Should I be easygoing and fun, or honest? Val will turn into Relationship Val if he comes, and the night will be ruined.

“Is it okay?” she asks again.

“I guess, if you want to.”

“Are you sure? If you don’t want him around, I understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I want him around?” Hopefully, she doesn’t ask me to list out the reasons.

Val exhales. A smile returns to her face. “Great! I wanted to ask because I wasn’t sure if you liked him or not.”

“What? I just don’t really know him.” Although I shouldn’t be, I’m taken aback by Val’s assumption. I can’t be mad that I barely see her anymore; no, it has to be that I don’t like Ezra.

“I was worried there for a second. I want you to like him. He’s amazing, and I’m not just saying that because I’m his girlfriend.” She blushes when she says girlfriend. “So what movie are we seeing?”

“Starship Alien II.”

“Didn’t we hate the first one?”

“We almost got kicked out,” I say. We both burst into laughter at the memory. Starship Alien I was so horrible that we couldn’t stop giggling and making comments. Why do horror directors think that girls love walking around topless while a killer alien is on the loose? The usher came into the theater and said we had to be quiet or leave.

“That movie was terrible! I’m kind of excited to see how bad this one will be,” she says.

I’m excited she’s excited. Maybe it won’t be that different from old times.

I sit in the backseat of Ezra’s white Toyota Camry, playing with a hole in the seat fabric. The rhythm of his windshield wipers drowns out the inside banter coming from the front. I feel like the baby in a car seat. Single Person on Board. Where’s their decal?

Whenever the road is smooth, they hold hands on the middle console. At every stoplight, Ezra blows hot air on Val’s fingertips and then kisses them.

“What?” Ezra asks Val, who won’t stop looking at him.

“Nothing,” she says coyly. “I guess I was just looking at you.”

“Well, then, you’re driving home so I can look at you.”

They’ve done this twice already.

“So, Ezra, are you excited for the glory that is Starship Alien II?” I ask, reminding them that someone is in the backseat.

“What’s it about?”

“These astronauts on an abandoned ship have to take down an evil race of aliens who eat human brains, and they realize that if they can kill the queen, who is giving the aliens their brain-sucking power, then they can escape. Prepare to laugh a lot.” Val isn’t laughing right now. She’s probably waiting to see how Ezra reacts so she can craft a similar response.

“Horror isn’t really my forte, so this should be interesting. I usually go to the theater by the college. They play some good indie films there, and some classics, too.” His deep voice reverberates through the car.

“I’ve always wanted to see a movie there,” I say.

“Really? Val said you guys go all the time.”

“We do?”

I check Val’s face in the rearview mirror. Her eyes plead with me to just go with it.

“We do,” I say emphatically, searching for words. “I just always fall asleep ten minutes in. So technically, I’ve never seen a complete movie there.” I hope some part of that made sense.

“I admit some of them can be slow, but there are a lot of gems.”

He pulls into the shopping center, which has gone to sleep for the night. The bright, sparkly lights of the movie theater light up the area like a casino. “Wow, I haven’t been to a multiplex in ages. I’m going to stick out like Alvy did in L.A.,” Ezra says, nudging Val’s arm.

“Who?” she asks.

“Alvy Singer,” he says. The name doesn’t ring a bell to me or Val. “From Annie Hall.”

“Oh, right!” Val says.

“You okay?”

“Sorry, long week.”

That makes Ezra chuckle. Their hands meet again on the middle console. Val exhales. Color flushes back into her face. He finds a space not too far from the theater, throws the car in Park and smirks at Val.

“What?” she asks, blushing.

“Nothing,” he says. “I guess I was just looking at you.”

And the cycle continues.

The unexpected rain made the movies the place to be for half my high school tonight. The concession-stand line stretches almost to the ticket booth. I give Ezra money to buy my ticket and dread the next step. The social obstacle course. I walk past groups of kids I see every day in the hall, alone. I don’t know if it’s true, but all eyes seem to be on me, sizing up my social profile. I’m here with friends, I want to tell them. Just act cool, Becca. In my brief glances at the onlookers, I notice lots of couples. I suppose that’s standard for Friday night at the movies. Val and Ezra wait in the ticket line, hand in hand.

I feel better once the movie starts. I can leave my current world behind and focus on astronauts getting killed in intricate and gruesome ways.

Well, I thought I could.

But Val and Ezra insist on putting on their own movie. They can’t just hold hands and be done with it. It’s a process, with the necessary buildup. Their slightest moves distract me. Ezra strokes her arm while Val pretends to watch the movie. Then he puts his arm around her. But he won’t stop there. Next, they hold hands. But I guess that isn’t taking advantage of their bodies being so close to each other. So she leans against him, stroking his arm. But then he chooses to rub her thigh, which means she can’t lean against him. She resumes her regular position. But a hand on her leg isn’t enough, so he throws his arm back around her shoulders. Their bodies are like puzzle pieces not fitting. On-screen, a buff guy gets a tentacle through the eye socket, and I have no idea why.

I tap Val’s shoulder. “Bathroom,” I whisper. I do the crouch-stand and shuffle out to the aisle, where I can see that my theater is all couples, all mimicking some version of Val’s and Ezra’s moves.

I step into the lobby, and my night instantly gets worse. A line of moviegoers wait for the eight-thirty showing. Mostly from my school. Huxley and Steve stand in the middle with their entire social circle. Shouldn’t they be someplace cooler than the movies?

I avoid eye contact and beeline to the bathroom, ignoring my peripheral vision. All I see is the bathroom, my salvation, my lean-to in this storm of awkwardness.

I bump into someone, a lady with her son. Their popcorn spills onto the red plush carpet. A preshow for the line.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry!”

I glance over at the line. Of course. I am right in front of Huxley and Steve.

“Rebecca.”

“Hi, Huxley.”

“Are you here alone?” Her hair is dry. Steve’s hair is dripping water onto his soggy shoulders. His umbrella lies at his feet.

“No, I came with Val and Ezra. They’re in the movie. In the movie theater.”

“Oh. That’s nice they let you tag along with them,” she says.

Addison and her boyfriend, who’s at the local junior college but creepily still comes to all the Ashland events, snicker to each other, and I feel heat creep up my cheeks.

The mom I bumped reappears. “Hey, they charged me a refill fee for the popcorn. Three bucks. You’re paying for it.”

I’m not hallucinating: everyone in line is staring at me. My mouth turns into a cotton swab. Sweat beads behind my ears. When I go to my ten-year high-school reunion, they’ll introduce me as that tagalong girl who spilled a child’s popcorn.

“Nice one, Rebecca,” Huxley says.

“We used to be friends!”

She nestles herself against Steve’s broad chest, and he closes his arms around her. That’s her response, and I get it loud and clear. Other girls in line hug their boyfriends, so grateful they’re not me.

I hand over the money and get this old woman out of my life. Forget the bathroom. I race back into the theater.

I stumble down to my row and find Ezra and Val making out. I guess they couldn’t wait to get rid of me. I tap Val’s shoulder, but she’s too entwined with Ezra to notice. I’m standing in the aisle. Yet another batch of my classmates gawk at me. “Sit down!” one of them hisses.

These two aren’t budging. I sit in the empty row behind them. I try to concentrate on the movie, but all I can see are my best friend and her boyfriend slobbering all over each other.

We used to be friends.

Tears well up in my eyes. Thank goodness I’m in the dark. Val and Ezra’s quest to gobble each other’s faces off overtakes my peripheral vision, but finally, the action on-screen wins out. The two remaining astronauts fight the evil queen, whose tentacles swirl around voraciously. She chases them through the spaceship, and because of all the brains she’s sucked out, she knows how they’ll think. She’s smarter, faster and completely ruthless. But because of their small size, they can squeeze into a rescue pod, blast off, nuke their spaceship and kill the queen. This stupid movie totally transfixes me, opens up a new worldview in my mind. I feel like I’m right there with the astronauts, and I want to cheer at the top of my lungs when the spaceship blows up. It’s like divine intervention that I came to see this movie on this night.

I have to vanquish the evil queen.