Chapter 4 Adventures In Chaperoning #5
“Remember, we don’t want them to see us. So keep your head down when you walk in and don’t look at anyone until we get to the back row. Okay?”
Tessa tilts her head. “And what if Henry and Vivi are sitting in the back row?”
“Then we’re screwed.”
She laughs, shoulders open the door, and we walk down the long, dark hallway into the theater. I keep my head down and my arm hooked through Tessa’s as I climb the low-lit stairs. Luckily, I don’t trip and fall on my face.
When we reach the back row, I dare to look up—and thankfully, Henry isn’t among the wallflowers hiding up here in the nosebleeds. I let out a relieved sigh and sink into a seat beside Tessa.
There’s an intergalactic battle unfolding onscreen, explosions thundering through the surround sound, but I’m not paying attention to the movie. I’m busy scanning the audience in front of us, looking for two silhouettes that look like my brother and his girlfriend.
“Do you see them?” I ask, leaning close to Tessa’s ear and getting a whiff of her incredible-smelling shampoo.
She shakes her head, blue eyes sparkling as they scan the theater. I do my own search and immediately freeze when my gaze lands on a couple towards the front. The guy is about the right height to be Henry, and though I can’t see the girl very well, she seems to have a lot of hair, just like Vivi.
More to the point: they’re making out.
I lean over to tell Tessa, “I think I see them,” at the exact same moment she leans over to tell me, “I think I see them.”
We both laugh; then Tessa points discreetly at a couple seated five rows ahead of us on the end.
Not the same slobbery couple I was spying on a few seconds ago.
These two are just sitting stoically side by side, watching the movie like they’re genuinely interested in seeing which spaceship is left standing by the end of this scene.
“That’s not them,” I argue, gesturing toward the kissing couple—who have sunk even lower in their seats now, still lip-locked as CGI gunfire flashes over their heads. “That’s them.”
Tessa wrinkles her nose in disbelief. “That guy is too big to be Henry. Look at his shoulders.”
“You think I don’t know my own brother when I see him?”
“No, you obviously don’t.” Tessa reaches into the paper bag in my lap and pulls out a package of KitKats, tearing it open. “Besides, they wouldn’t be making out this soon into the movie.”
“Why not? They don’t have a second to waste.”
“Henry’s better than that, and you know it.” She jerks her head in the direction of her prospects and says with finality, “They’re right there. I’d stake my life on it.”
“Oh, come on. Those two aren’t even touching each other. Henry would at least have his arm around her shoulders at this point.”
“Well, you’re more flirtatious than he is, and you don’t have your arm around my shoulders,” Tessa says matter-of-factly.
I take it as my cue to put one arm around her—better late than never.
Tessa laughs and shoves half the KitKat into my mouth. “I guess we’ll just have to wait until the lights go up to see who’s right.”
It’s a bet within a bet. And I’m game for any wager that involves holding Tessa Dickinson in the dark and being fed candy while listening to her savage, one-star commentary on a movie she’s never seen before.
I’ve never been much of a film critic, but Tessa (being a writer) has made it her responsibility to educate me on what a good story looks like, and I (being madly in love with her) have to agree with all her criticisms, even if I still enjoy a “plot-driven CGI pew-pew-fest” once in a while. (Her words, not mine.)
All throughout the movie, I keep my eye on the two couples in front of us, trying to figure out which one is Henry and Vivi.
The kissers, who have a pattern of falling on each other’s lips during every battle sequence?
Or the stoics, who don’t take their eyes off the screen the whole time, but occasionally lean into each other’s ears to whisper something?
I guess it doesn’t matter which couple is Henry and Vivi.
It’s enough to know that they’re in the same room as me, safe and sound.
Now, I can just relax and pretend this is a real date, not a stealthy stalker-fest. Though I hate to admit it, Tessa was right: Henry did stick to his word.
Whether he’s the lucky guy making out with his girl near the front or the less-lucky guy whispering sweet nothings in his girl’s ear, the important part is this: he didn’t lie about going to the movies.
Tessa: 1. Me: 0.
So far, the odds aren’t in my favor. It’s possible Tessa could win this wager.
I start imagining the possibilities of a date I would hate.
Jane Austen movie marathon? Ballroom dancing lessons?
Pottery class? Is it crazy to admit that I wouldn’t even mind doing any of those things as long as I could do them with her?
Unfortunately, I don’t think Tessa would feel the same way about activities like rock-climbing or hand-to-hand combat.
Two hours later, the movie comes to a dramatic end, and Tessa whimpers, “Thank God,” against my neck, which makes me laugh and pat her on the back.
“You made it, Tes.”
“I was fighting to stay awake,” she admits, kissing my cheek. “Sugar and loud noises were the only things keeping me from dozing off.”
As the credits roll, the lights go up, and I’m on the edge of my seat because this is the moment I’ve been waiting for: to see who guessed the right couple based on their silhouettes.
The kissers stand up and gather their stuff. My heart sinks when I realize they’re not Henry and Vivi. Tessa was right, damn it. That guy does have boulder shoulders—definitely not my little brother.
I’m about to admit defeat and let Tessa enjoy her win, but when I swivel to look at the stoics she pointed out earlier, I do a double take.
That couple isn’t Henry and Vivi, either.
Tessa’s face goes white as a ghost. We both frantically scan the audience as everyone starts filing out of the theater, but Henry and Vivi are nowhere to be found.
They were never here at all.
TESSA
“I told you that guy wasn’t Henry,” Weston says as we hurry down the stairs and toward the exit, dodging and weaving around moviegoers.
“Well, your guy wasn’t Henry, either,” I volley back, shadowing him out the door and into the main hallway of the cinema. “You were so sure of yourself—”
“Look, I don’t want to talk about what’s past.” Weston stops short, scanning the crowd of people making their way toward the lobby. “I can’t believe this…”
“He might still be here,” I offer. “Maybe he went to the nine o’clock showing. Or maybe they went to see a different movie altogether. Vivi probably hates Star Wars like I do, and Henry let her choose the movie instead.”
Weston turns to me, a spark of hope in his eyes. “Good thinking.” He grabs my hand and starts leading me back down the hallway in the direction we came.
“Wait, where are we going?”
Weston stops at the door to a different auditorium and shoots me a look over his shoulder. “We’re going to check them all.”
“Wes, we can’t just—”
Too late. He’s already shoved open the door, completely disregarding the rules.
I’m no authority on multiplex cinema laws, but you can’t just sneak into every auditorium without buying a ticket to that showing.
Not that we’ll be hanging around to watch the movie being screened inside, but it still feels somehow… criminal.
I scan the movie poster and overhead screen displaying the film’s title, rating, and showtime. The Silent Assassin. Rated R. It hardly sounds like romantic first-date fare, but if Weston is serious about checking each theater for his missing brother, I can’t leave him to do this search alone.
Pushing through the door, I creep down the low-lit hallway, bracing myself for grisly assassin vibes as soon as I round the corner. But I don’t make it far before I crash straight into Weston.
“They’re not in here. Come on, next one.” He grabs my elbow and drags me out of the auditorium, then straight into the one beside it.
This movie is called Forbidden Desires and is also rated R—though not for violence. As soon as we step through the door, I am accosted by the sound of gasping and moaning, but Weston mercifully shields my eyes before I can glimpse what’s happening on the screen.
We scan the half-filled audience of scandalized moviegoers—some of whom are fulfilling their own “forbidden desires” by kissing and necking in the dark.
I try not to look too long as I search for Henry and Vivi amid the lip-locked couples.
But thankfully, our truants aren’t in this auditorium, either.
I retreat as quickly as possible, and Weston meets me in the hallway.
“That was assaulting,” I say with a shudder. “Three down, four to go.”
Weston is about to plow through the next door when I stop him.
“Pony Pal Adventures?” I point to the sign above the door. “When I said Henry would have a G-rated date, I didn’t mean he’d go see a movie that’s literally made for five-year-olds.”
Weston gives the sign a double take and laughs, shaking his head. “You’re probably right.”
The next auditorium is between showings—nobody inside except the staff, cleaning up spilled popcorn and forgotten trash.
Racing against the clock, Weston and I zigzag between the last two screens: one is playing the nine o’clock showing of Star Wars, the other a romantic comedy that I wish we had watched instead of Star Wars—since our presence here was totally pointless anyway.
I can’t decide what is more disappointing: the fact that Weston has not only led his little brother astray but also lost sight of him, or the two hours of my life I spent watching space battles.
Back in the main hallway, Weston sighs and forks his hands through his hair. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Do you have to swear?”
He fists a hand in his hair. “Shit’s not a swear word.”