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1968
70
2.5
“2001, 2001…,” Kirby says. “That was before we were born. What was going on in 2001? Besides some really questionable fashion choices?”
Google isn’t off-limits, but the clues are always designed in a way that makes them difficult to find online.
“Oh!” Mara exclaims. “Maybe it’s a reference to that old movie? 2001: A Space Odyssey?”
“Say it a little louder,” Kirby says.
“Sorry. Got excited.”
We decide to head for my car, since I’m the only one of us who drives to school. Kirby and Mara live close enough to walk. The rest of the seniors seem to have the same idea. Most people split into groups, some racing toward the parking lot and others to the bus.
“I think Mara’s right about the movie,” I say as our shoes hit concrete, willing my mobile browser to work faster. “I watched it with my dad once. Or more accurately, he watched it, and I fell asleep. And… it came out in 1968!”
“There has to be some link to Seattle,” Kirby says. “Maybe it was shot here.… Nope, Wikipedia says England.”
“You’ve been in AP classes for three years and you’re still using Wikipedia?” Mara sounds horrified. Before Kirby can defend herself, we arrive at my Accord and its mangled front bumper. “Rowan! Oh my God, your poor car.”
“It still drives,” I say, a little sheepish. “Get in.”
“If it’s movie-related, maybe ‘seventy’ is referring to seventy-millimeter film,” Mara says, sliding into the back after Kirby claims the front passenger seat. “Are there any theaters in Seattle that still use seventy millimeter?”
“My guess would be Cinerama,” I say. It’s one of Seattle’s oldest theaters. Some more frantic googling. “One sec… There!” I turn my phone to show them, filled with the rush that comes with being pretty sure you have the right answer to a problem. “Cinerama showed the movie in seventy millimeter for two and a half years.”
“To Cinerama!” Kirby says, slapping my dashboard.
While we cruise toward downtown, Kirby scrolls through my music, blatantly ignoring the unspoken driver’s choice rule.
“I knew Howl would fix things. You’re already significantly peppier,” Mara says. She leans her head against the window. “But would it kill Seattle to give us more than ten minutes of sun?”
The clouds have shifted again, the sky a tranquil gray.
“You know what they say,” Kirby says without looking up from my playlists. “Summer doesn’t start in Seattle until after the Fourth of July. Why do you have Electric Light Orchestra on here?”
I grab for my phone, but she holds it out of reach. “Because ‘Don’t Bring Me Down’ is timeless.”
“We might even get rained out in Lake Chelan,” Mara says.
Kirby freezes, turning her head to glance back at Mara.
“What’s happening in Lake Chelan?” I exit 99 North onto Denny Way, landing in the middle of Seattle’s downtown lunch rush.
A pause. Kirby becomes invested in peeling old parking stickers off my window.
“Shit,” Mara mutters.
“We were going to tell you,” Kirby says. “Mara’s parents are going to Lake Chelan for the Fourth, and they invited me to go with them.”
“They invited you,” I say, my stomach dropping. “Just you.”
“Yeah.”
“For the weekend?”
