AllFreeNovel
Share Us
r />
“For, uh, for two weeks.”
Two whole weeks. It’s not that we’ve always spent every day of every summer together. Every other year, Kirby’s family visits relatives in Cambodia, and twice, Mara went to a dance camp in New York. But this summer is our last one, and I thought that meant something.
I had it all planned out in my head. Sand between our toes at Alki and Golden Gardens, daring each other to touch the fountain at Seattle Center like we’re twelve, portabello burgers at Plum Bistro, molten chocolate lava cakes at Hot Cakes, cinnamon rolls at Two Birds One Scone…
“We can still go to Bumbershoot together,” Mara says softly.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. “I can’t go to Bumbershoot. I leave for Boston at the end of August.”
“Oh.”
“I just—I thought we had all these plans.”
“We haven’t really talked about it,” Kirby says as traffic crawls forward.
I open my mouth to insist that of course we have—except I can’t actually remember it. We had AP tests and graduation prep and final exams, and now it’s here, our last day on the cusp of our last summer, and I’m losing my best friends much sooner than I thought I’d be.
3. Hang out with Kirby and Mara EVERY WEEKEND!
“Parking spot!” Mara practically shouts, then holds a hand to her mouth like she’s surprised by her outburst. “I mean, there’s a good parking spot. Right there.”
Silently, I pull into it.
The theater takes up nearly an entire square block, despite having only one massive screen, and costumes from various film franchises are on display in the lobby. But my favorite thing about Cinerama has always been—
“Chocolate popcorn,” Mara says, still trying to play peacemaker. “Do you want some, Rowan?”
I shake my head, declining it for possibly the first time in my life.
Student council juniors Nisha Deshpande and Olivia Sweeney are waiting at the entrance to the auditorium. “Rowan, hi!” Nisha says as she scribbles my name on her clipboard. “I’m so glad you made it.”
Fan club, Kirby mouths.
We’re within the first ten to have arrived. With the exception of some hushed conversations, the auditorium is quiet. We grab three aisle seats near each other so we can make an easy escape.
And then we wait.
Our classmates show up mostly in small groups but occasionally solo, and I crouch down low in my seat when Spencer ambles up the aisle. I spot McNair hair—a homing beacon, as always—and a mix of relief and pride rushes through me. He made it, but I beat him.
It’s almost twelve thirty when the last person arrives.
“Lucky number fifty!” Brady Becker shouts, tearing down the aisle with an outstretched hand. A few people reach out to high-five him.
The moment he slides into a second-row seat, the auditorium door shuts with a whoosh and the lights go completely dark.
12:26 p.m.
A FILM STARTS to play. Welcome, a title card says, white letters on a black background. You’ve passed the first test.
The juniors modeled it on a silent film, black-and-white stills interspersed with written dialogue and scored by a jazz piece. They act out game play and demonstrate both proper kills and unsportsmanlike conduct, including an over-the-top chase sequence that ends with a player diving into Green Lake.
“Lights!” someone calls when it ends, but the room stays dark. “Lights,” they say again, more forcefully.
As my eyes readjust, a group of student council juniors takes the stage: incoming president Logan Perez and VP Matt Schreiber, plus Nisha and Olivia. They’re all wearing blue T-shirts, though Nisha and Olivia are weighed down with clipboards and papers and boxes filled with armbands. It’s clear they’re the minions in this operation.
“Congratulations, seniors!” Logan shouts, her voice so controlled that she doesn’t need a microphone. She’s led Westview to two basketball championships already, and she’ll probably do it again her senior year, though I won’t be around to see it. “You’re all officially playing Howl.”
