Page 3 of Script Swap
But I couldn’t help looking.
The concessions counter was tucked off to the side.Glass display cases full of candy.An enormous glass-sided popcorn machine so you couldseethe popcorn popping.(And, equally importantly, so you could see it being liberally buttered and salted.) Even fountain drinks—a touch of modern convenience amidst the shabby vintage glamor.
I know I’m not a cartoon character.I know I can’t actually float toward a smell.But it was a close thing.
Then I caught myself.And I reminded myself absolutely not.
My stomach, however, didn’t get the message, and it gave an ominous rumble.
“It sounds like the soda machine’s broken,” Millie announced.
“Go get me candy,” Keme told me.
“No,” I said.
Fox, glancing around, gestured with both hands as if they were pressing us into place, and said, “Wait right here.”Then they scurried off.
“What do you mean, no?”Keme said.
“I mean no,” I said.And then, because it sounded like the right thing to say, “No means no.”
“Nope,” Bobby said.“Wrong context.”
Keme apparently couldn’t wrap his head around this turn of events.“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want any candy,” I said.
Which was technically true.The rational, logical, decision-making part of me didnotwant candy.
On the other hand, that was a small part of me.
“Are you sick?”Millie asked.“ARE YOU GOING TO THROW UP?”
Let me tell you: if we hadn’t already been the center of attention.People stopped.Heads turned.Mrs.Shufflebottom, the librarian, actually took a bottle of Tums out of her purse.
It was times like these that my charmingly mild case of social anxiety liked to flare up.
“I’m not going to throw up,” I said—loudly enough for the message to carry.
Slowly, the theater—uh, theatre—crowd churned back to life.
“Is it because you’re broke?”Keme asked.
“No,” I snapped.“It’s because I don’t want any.”
“I’ll buy you some,” Millie said.
“No!”I drew a deep breath.“No, I’m fine.But thank you.”
Millie nodded with a commiserating expression.Keme glowered, but that faded when Indira gave him a folded-up bill, and he slunk off toward the concession stand with Millie.Indira, with a frown for me, excused herself to talk to Princess McAdams (disappointingly, not a real princess).
“Are you feeling alright?”Bobby asked me.
“Fine,” I said.Bobby didn’t actuallydoanything, but my face heated.“Sorry.Yeah, fine.Just a weird night.”
He nodded, and he rubbed my back.
And that was it.
