Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE MOVIE
Gretchen
eleven years ago, fall
“Mom! All the other kids at school have already seen it.”
“Gretchen, I hardly believe that’s true,” Mom replies without looking up from the pot of chili on the stovetop.
“It is true. David, Sydney, Alexis, Graham. They’ve all seen it and won’t shut up about it,” I whine.
“Who won’t shut up about what?” I turn to see Drew toss a mini-cornbread muffin in his mouth, his eyes already plotting which one he’ll steal next.
“What if Drew took me to see it?” I beg, hands clasped under my chin. I use my best pretty-please whine, knowing full well it won’t work. It never works.
“What if I took you to see what?” Drew implores, but I ignore him, my attention wholly on Mom, the author and finisher of my fate.
“I’m sorry, honey, but no means no. It’s PG-13 and you know the rules.” She shoves past Drew for the bowls in the cupboard above his head.
“Am I here?” Drew asks, eyes wide as he flails a dramatic hand over himself.
Mom pinches his cheek. “Hi, sweetie. How was practice?”
“No, Drew! It’s my turn.” I step between them, waving my hands above my head. “I’m almost eleven and a half, Mo?—”
I’m not able to finish my sentence because my brother, the pest that he is, grabs my wrists and crosses them in front of my chest. He locks them there by wrapping his monster forearm around me.
He laughs and I stomp on his foot, which only makes him laugh harder.
“Nice try, Gretch.” He uses his fist to give me a noogie and I squirm to break free.
Finally releasing me, he says, “What’s got you all worked up? ”
I fix my hair and crane my neck to look up at him. “Mom and Dad won’t let me see Pitch Perfect even though everybody else in my grade has already seen it.”
“Gretch, you gotta let it go. The answer is no,” Dad’s voice booms into the kitchen from his office down the hall. I groan. Drew laughs again and I hurl a mini-muffin at his face which, of course, he catches in his mouth.
He. Is. So. Annoying.
From the front of the house, a door swings open and shut. “Seriously, you guys, what’s the big deal? It’s just a movie!”
“What movie?” Connor says from the kitchen doorway.
A smile spreads across Mom’s face. “Connor! Drew didn’t tell me you were coming. You staying for dinner? We’re having chili.”
“If you’ll have me,” he says right before Drew tosses a mini-muffin his way and he catches it, too, arms thrown up in victory. Without missing a beat, he asks again, “What movie?”
“ Pitch Perfect ,” Mom, Drew and me all say in unison.
“Oh, dude, I love that movie.”
I glare at him.
Drew leans into Connor’s ear. “Not helping, Vining.”
Connor chuckles, coughing into his fist. “Sorry, Fish,” he says with a wink. How dare he wink at me at a time like this .
I bounce my attention from Connor to Mom to Drew, taking in their tickled faces. I scoff and storm out of the room.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re seated at the dinner table where my parents are blathering on about their weekend plans.
“Gretch, honey,” Mom says, “remember Drew is in charge. Your dad and I will only be gone one night.”
Drew sports a high and mighty smirk that makes me want to kick him in the shins. “Got it,” I reply unenthusiastically.
“What show are you guys going to see?” Connor asks, ever the polite house guest.
Mom lights up. “We have tickets to Les Mis .” Turning back to my brother, she steels her expression. “I know it’s a bye week for you guys, but Drew, I need you to be here with your sister. No team parties or girls are allowed in this house.”
Drew rolls his eyes.
“Son, you better get your attitude in check,” Dad commands.
“Andrew Fisher, I mean it,” Mom warns. “You are responsible for your eleven-year-old baby sister. Don’t forget that.”
I roll my eyes internally because I don’t want Dad to lecture me, too.
I’m not a baby.
First, Drew banished me to my room so he and his friends can have the downstairs to themselves.
Then, I was sworn to secrecy, but I only agreed to keep quiet in exchange for two things. One, I absolutely will not help him clean up any messes. Two, he has to take me to see Pitch Perfect tomorrow afternoon before our parents get back.
A win-win all around if you ask me.
I locked my bedroom door an hour ago when I heard somebody come upstairs to use the bathroom I share with Drew. Not long after that, I had to put on my noise canceling headphones to drown out the music even though I can still feel the vibrations through the floor .
When I look at the clock sometime later, it’s almost nine. Drew clearly forgot to bring pizza upstairs like he promised and now I’m starving.
Taking off my headphones, I muster up some courage to head downstairs to sneak some dinner, but the sound of voices outside my door stops me in my tracks.
“Dude, relax. Everything’s fine.” That’s Drew.
“Fine? Your sister’s locked herself in her room. She’s probably scared.” Connor’s declaration startles me. One of them must have tried to come in while I had my headphones on.
“Scared of what, man? It’s the guys, you know them. They wouldn’t do anything. I wouldn’t put her in danger.”
“I know that and I know they’re good guys but she’s eleven and there’s a house full of teenage boys downstairs. You saw McDormand bring in that flask, didn’t you?”
“What? I told the guys no alcohol.”
“Fisher, you’re my best friend, but I’m also your team captain and I shouldn’t have to explain to you the risks of the team getting caught throwing a party with underage drinking.”
“You’re right,” Drew sighs. “I’ll take care of it.”
Muffled footsteps shuffle down the staircase a moment before there’s a knock at my door.
“Who is it?”
“Fish, it’s me.”
I turn the lock and peek my head around first before opening the door completely.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine. I was gonna come downstairs for some food.”
“You haven’t eaten yet?”
I shake my head. “Drew was supposed to bring me some pizza, but I think he forgot.”
Connor laughs but it isn’t all that funny. He pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “Stay in your room, I’ll bring something up for you.”
He turns to leave and I start to follow after him. “You don’t have to do?— ”
“Stay in your room, Gretch. Please.” His hand comes up, stopping me. “I’ll be right back.”
His tone, combined with the nerves I’ve been trying to ignore, courses straight to my feet. I spin on my heel and go back inside my bedroom.
Twenty minutes later, Connor returns with a plate of food.
“The pizza was all gone, so I made you a grilled cheese.”
Except, this doesn’t look like any grilled cheese I’ve ever eaten.
“It’s pesto and mozzarella. Trust me, it’s the superior of grilled cheese sandwiches. Oh, and here.” He pulls a bottle of water from his pocket.
“Thank you.”
An uproar of laughter comes from downstairs and Connor pivots toward the sound, jaw clenched. Sighing, he leans against my doorframe, hands inside his pockets. “Do you like it?”
Covering my mouth, I bob my head eagerly. “It’s so good. Thank you.”
A scurry of footsteps come up the stairs and Connor rushes to the landing to block their path.
From my perch on the bed, I can’t see the staircase, but the annoyance on Connor’s face is obvious. “I thought Drew made it clear, no girlfriends invited,” he scolds to his unsuspecting teammate.
The guy laughs. “It’s a little late for that, Vining. Unless you wanna be the one to tell the cheerleading squad to leave. Drew’s already too wrapped up in Madison Pruitt to do it himself.” A girl’s voice joins in on the laughter now.
Connor mumbles under his breath. “Well, this isn’t a hotel, Henley. Nobody comes upstairs. Got it?”
“Whatever you say, man,” Henley replies before their shadows turn and head back down the stairs.
Connor returns to his spot in my doorway. “I hate your brother.”
I giggle. “You love my brother.”
“Two things can be true at once.”
I take another bite as the sound of screeching chairs and shattered glass rises over the pulsing music downstairs. Connor and I both go on high alert.
“You know what? Grab your shoes. Let’s go.” The decision is made as he pulls his keys from his pocket and instructs me to follow him.
I slide on my tennis shoes, grab a hoodie from my closet and follow my brother’s best friend down the stairs, out the side door and straight to his car without anyone seeing me.
When he gets settled in the driver’s seat, he keeps the car in park as he types out a series of texts on his phone. The whoosh sound of each one cuts the silence inside the car. After what feels like several minutes of waiting for him to finish, I finally ask him what the heck he’s doing.
He sends off one final message and hands his phone to me, saying, “See for yourself,” before putting the car in gear and heading down our driveway.
His thread with my brother is at the top of his screen.
Connor
I’m getting your sister out of the house for a while. I’ll bring her back by midnight. You need to get things under control.
Drew
I know, V. I’m sorry. I’ll take care of things here and make sure everyone’s gone by the time you get back.
Thanks for looking out for Gretch.
The next is a message sent to the team group chat where Connor lectures them on making good choices and respecting my family’s property. A few not-so-subtle reminders about the playoffs in a few weeks brought on a slew of thumbs up emojis and aye-aye-Caps .
Fifteen minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of the movie theater, the bright lights from the marquis illuminating the pavement outside the entrance. Before I can say a word, Connor unbuckles and climbs out of the car, forcing me to follow suit .
Inside the lobby, the screen behind the ticket counter displays all the available showtimes. Connor looks at the clock on his phone. “Would you look at that, Fish?”
“What?” I ask as I scan the screen above me.
“ Pitch Perfect starts in ten minutes.”
I jerk my head his direction and he slaps me with a goofy grin. My arrangement with my brother is all but forgotten because the only thing better than seeing Pitch Perfect tomorrow is seeing it tonight.
“Do you think you can keep this secret from your parents? I’d like to stay on their good side.”
My smile is instant, but falters a moment later. “I don’t have any money, though.”
He waves his hand like he’s swatting a fly. “My treat.”
Connor fits his palm on the top of my head and jostles my hair as he nudges me to the ticket counter.
At the concession stand I order peanut butter M&Ms and Connor tries really hard to convince me that the peanut ones are better.
When we get back to my house a few minutes before midnight, Connor breathes a sigh of relief at the now empty driveway except for Drew’s car.
Stepping inside, we find my brother asleep on the couch.
Connor moves quietly around downstairs, taking inventory of every room.
Furniture is askew. Lampshades tilted at odd angles.
Empty pizza boxes and soda cans litter every surface in sight, and the television screen is paused on a game of Madden, game controllers tossed haphazardly on the coffee table.
I find the culprit of the sound of broken glass from before when I see a picture frame missing off the living room wall. The shattered frame sets on a nearby end table.
I move to head upstairs, but Connor stops me. “Let me check upstairs first. ”
He heads to the second floor as I make a pass through the living room, straightening up what I can without making too much noise. I grab a stack of pizza boxes and carry them into the kitchen.
I’m preparing to take out the trash when Connor returns. “Upstairs doesn’t look like it’s been touched.”
I stifle a yawn as he takes the bag from my hand. “I got this. You can go on upstairs and go to bed.” I eye him for a moment. He shouldn’t have to clean this up. “This isn’t your responsibility, Gretch.”
“It’s not yours, either.”
“I know, and trust me, I’m not cleaning this by myself. I’m gonna sleep on the other couch and wake your brother up before dawn to make him do the cleaning.” We share a knowing laugh, before he adds, “I can at least take out this trash, though.”
“Okay,” I say. I turn to head upstairs but stop to face him again before I get too far. “Connor?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for tonight.”
“You’re welcome. Night, Fish.”
When I come downstairs the next morning, I’m greeted by a spotless house and a vibrant, fully alert, innocent-looking Drew inhaling a bowl of cereal at the kitchen counter. Connor, apparently, has already gone home.
Drew notices me, drops his bowl in the sink and swipes his keys from the counter. “Alright, let’s go. Movie starts at 11:30 and I need to swing by the store to buy a new picture frame.”
With a pep in my step, I happily follow Drew to his car.
Pitch Perfect twice in one weekend.
Best. Weekend. Ever.