Page 97 of Villainous Fate

Marcus stops next to me, reading the sign but not appearing to comprehend the words.

“I’ll go ask inside. Wait here,” he says, leaving my books next to me as he enters the store and approaches the zany middle-aged woman behind the counter.

I’m frozen in disappointment, unable to see how it's possible that something that was supposed to work out just became an utter disappointment.

Marcus returns, his face mirroring mine.

“She said the author notified them a week ago that they had a conflict. She said the signing will move to the end of the summer at the earliest.” I hear the anger he is trying to hide.

My heart sinks.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” I mumble, turning to walk back to the hotel, grabbing the dolly as I go.

“Hey,” he stops me, putting his hand on my arm to stop my progress. “You didn’t waste my time. This road trip has been some of the most fun I’ve had since leaving home. And you know what? It isn’t over,” he says, his eyes lighting up as if he has an idea. He lifts his wrist to check his watch, his wheels turning.

“It’s fine, really, Marcus. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t suck. It sucks, and we can go home now. Sometimes things just don’t work out,” I say, wondering how Deacon will react to the news that the trip he worked so hard to arrange fell through.

“Do you trust me, Spitfire?” he asks, placing both hands on my shoulders, his face turning serious.

“Of course I do,” I say, shaking my head, unsure how that changes anything.

“Then let's go. We don’t have much time. Chop Chop!” he says before taking the dolly and moving quickly down the street.

We return to the hotel in half the time, grab our stuff, and head to check out.

Marcus disappears while I do a final check on the room to be sure we didn’t leave anything.

When I arrive at the lobby, the car is idling out front, our suitcases already loaded in the back. Marcus waves me forward and takes off as soon as my door closes.

“Whoa there. Who’s on fire?” I ask, laughing at him as I buckle up.

“Just want to make sure we have enough time,” he says, not giving anything away.

After about ten minutes, we turn into a parking lot, and I scan the area for signs of where we are headed. Marcus turns to me.

“Remember a few weeks ago, you mentioned reading that book about the rival gangs?” I nod, and he continues, “Well, I remember you saying they were making it into a movie, and I looked; they have it here. What’s your stance on popcorn, Spitfire?” he asks, and my heart swells.

We’re seeing The Outsiders.

I love this book. The ‘it doesn’t matter how much money you have or where you come from’ message hits home for me, and it probably will for him, too.

My eyes fill with tears despite me fighting them, and Marcus’s face drops.

“I’m sorry. I thought this was a good alternative. It’s stupid. We can just go home,” he finishes, reaching for the keys still hanging in the ignition.

My hand catches his arm, causing him to look at me.

“This is incredibly thoughtful, Ace. Thank you. And if you think we aren’t getting the biggest size with extra butter, you have another thing coming,” I say, smiling as I unbuckle and hop out of the car.

It may not be my favorite author signing books I love, but Marcus’s backup plan made my heart happy in a way I don’t think I will ever truly be able to convey to him.

He may be the most thoughtful and kind person I’ve ever met.

“Say cheese, Spitfire,” Marcus says, and I pose in front of the theater sign. A ticket taker offers to take our photo, and we jump in front of the movie poster, a large bucket of popcorn under one hand and a thing of Nerds and Runts in the other, smiling ear to ear.

The next two hours play out on the screen almost exactly as I remember from the book. I catch some minor changes, which I make sure to point out to Marcus as he watches. After it's over, I pocket my ticket, hoping to keep it with the photos once we develop them. Then, I jump in the car for our eight-hour return trip.

As we pull out of the parking lot, my world feels lighter. Without the stress of the bills, keeping my grades up so I can get into a community college wherever we end up, and all of the missing Deacon, it no longer feels as heavy. It’s as if Marcus took some of that load and is carrying it himself.

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