Page 12 of Script Swap
“Dashiell, please,” Fox said.“This is your dream.A chance to investigate a crime.You live for this kind of thing.”
“Yeah, well, my personal preference when it comes toBetrayal!!!: The Worm Has Turned: the whatever-whatever storyis the least contact possible, the better.”
“The theater is haunted,” Fox said in the tone of someone sweetening the pot.
And, okay, sure, yes—a haunted theater would be awesome.I’d probably see a ghost.And thenKemewould probably see a ghost, and his hair would turn white.Or he’d do a little tinkle.Or something.
“He’s not a character onScooby-Doo,” Bobby said.And then he saw my face and said, “Seriously, Dash?”
“How do you know it’s haunted?”I asked.
“Every theater is haunted,” Fox said.
“Pass.”
“But The Foxworthy really is!”
Bobby had gotten to that stage where he was now folding his arms across his chest.
“Please, Dash,” Fox said.“I know it’s silly.And I know the sheriff will do her best.But my father is asking me to ask you for your help, and…” Fox trailed off miserably.
“I need to talk to Bobby about it,” I finally said.
“Thank you,” Fox said.“Thank you!You darling boy!Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“I didn’t say yes!”
But Fox gave Bobby a smirk, and Bobby said, “Yeah, I know.”
“What?”I asked.
“Goodnight,” Bobby said as he shut the door behind Fox.
“What?”I asked again.
Bobby set the tray of cookies on the nightstand.
“I didn’t say yes,” I said.“I said I was going to talk to you.”
“I know,” Bobby said.He cupped my cheek.“And I love you for actually believing that.”Then he tweaked my ear and headed into the bathroom.
While Bobby got ready for bed, I stripped down to my trunks.If I was being totally honest, I’d had certain, uh, amorous inclinations.Toward Bobby.For a while now.And I’d kind of been hoping that tonight, we might rekindle, um, that particular spark between my loins (oh my God, this is the absolute worst; this is why I can’t write romance).(Also, can something bebetweenyour loins?Or is itinyour loins?Underyour loins?You can never find an editor when you need one.) Because tonight had been a change.A good change.We’d gone out.We’d gone to the theater.It had felt like we were a couple again instead of two people rotting together in the same house.
All of which was to say: because of my amorous inclinations, I’d worn a cute pair of trunks, and they had a particularly saucy Link (fromThe Legend of Zelda) on them.
For safety’s sake, I moved the cookies as far away from the bed as possible.I couldn’t be held responsible for night-snacking, and I didn’t want any further setbacks on Project New and Improved Dash 2.0 (or whatever I was calling it).I’d had popcorn.I’d had a Coke.I’d had way too many M&M’s.And nobody had even blinked twice when I’d stolen Keme’s Reese’s Pieces (which he totally deserved because he was too busy staring at Millie).
I was climbing into bed when Bobby came back.He glanced at the cookies.He looked at me.“Aren’t you going to have any?”
“I don’t want one right now.”
Bobby’s eyebrows went up.
“I had all that junk at the theater,” I said.
Bobby pulled off his shirt.The word, my friends, ischiseled.But he was still looking at me, and that little furrow was back.
“Besides,” I said, “no crumbs in bed.”
