Chapter 17
By Wednesday morning, Amari’s attitude has changed.
Over text the last few days, she’s seemed less animated about everything and almost like she doesn’t even want to meet up anymore.
But the plan is still on. She said no one goes to the movies right after school so we’ll have at least ninety minutes to catch up at the theater.
I told my mom I needed some time to myself and asked if she could drop me off, hoping it would keep her from suspecting anything.
She had to work, so she said I should have Kayla take me, or I could get an Uber.
This is the first time since I came home that she’s let me travel somewhere on my own, and I feel bad about lying to her when she trusts me.
But it doesn’t change my decision. I choose the Uber option and tell Kayla I’m catching up with someone from the center.
She makes me share my location “in case I go missing,” and even says she can pick me up after if I need her to.
The car drops me off at exactly three thirty p.m. in front of the Tinsley Picture House.
It’s a brick building with a marquee out front displaying the showtimes for a few old movies.
I chuckle at how much this makes me regret not taking advantage of the big AMC movie theater right outside of Lorial.
I was there a bunch of times, but for purposes other than what it was made for.
It mostly served as the meeting spot for everyone’s hallway feuds and school romances to play out without supervision.
Amari is at the door. Her hair is down again, like at the carnival, and it even looks like she put a little makeup on. I straighten my uniform.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hi,” I say.
The chill of blaring AC hits my face as I step into the lobby behind her. I shiver a bit. It’s a little too dark to be welcoming and reminds me of the movie theaters that small towns have in scary movies.
“We’re seeing Gladiator at four.” Amari shows me the tickets on her screen.
“What do I owe you?” I ask.
“Some answers. Want something?” She points to the concession stand a few steps away.
I see two theaters up ahead, directly across from each other, and there’s no one else around. I immediately relax; she was right that this is the perfect time and place to meet.
“Sour Patch Kids,” I say.
As she places our order, I stand off to the side and watch her. The girl behind the counter is laughing and hanging on her every word.
At the carnival, it was such a shock to run into Amari.
I thought that choosing to see her in real life would feel different, that this time I might feel happier, but I just feel guilty.
Toward Deanna. Toward my mom. Even toward Kayla, who really is like a sister to me.
I’m jeopardizing all these budding relationships just by being here.
It’s not Amari’s fault, of course, and yet, it’s hard to feel the same way about her that I did before.
The smell of popcorn is so strong that my mouth starts watering. The girl behind the counter is drowning a batch in butter, to Amari’s delight. She turns to me. “You sure you don’t want some?”
I cave. “Fine, but maybe from over there,” I say, pointing to the only dry section of popcorn I can still see.
She orders another, plus two Cokes. The girl shovels butter-drenched popcorn into one bucket and then uses the same scoop to fill the other.
Amari chuckles.
“Did you want the candy too?” I ask her.
“Mmhmm,” she says.
When it’s time to pay, I move closer to try to see the damage. She swipes her card too quickly for me to catch anything but notices me looking. “Don’t worry, it’s on you next time,” she says, handing me my snacks.
“Next time?” I ask. “Let’s slow down.”
She rolls her eyes and puts her card back in her wallet. I know she’s mad at me, but I’m not sure I can fix that, or even that I want to.
We head to our theater. The guy checking tickets says hi to Amari like he knows her and waves us in. I try to keep up with her and end up leaving a trail of popcorn all the way down the aisle. She stops at a row too close to the screen and sees the mess.
“Nice job.” She laughs, walking to the middle of the row. “Let’s sit here. These are my favorite seats.” I look around at empty seats that would be better for my eyes and consider suggesting another set. But we’re not really here to watch the movie.
Amari sits down. “You hate them?”
“No, it’s fine,” I lie, and slide into the spot next to her.
She barely waits for me to sit down before she starts with the questions. “So, why are you ignoring me? What happened to being stuck, forever?”
“It’s been a long time since then, Amari. Things change and that’s okay.”
“Things change or you changed? I meant what I said. I told you I loved you, remember? You’re the only girl I ever said that to.”
I pause for a moment, overtaken by a memory. The two of us, the stars above, the feeling of the world standing still.
But I’ve made a lot of new memories since then. My life has changed so much. You can love someone and still know that they’re not right for you.
“Yeah. I said it too, and I meant it. I just…” My voice trails off as I look to see who just came into the theater. It’s an older couple who end up sitting in the middle, far enough away that our talking shouldn’t disturb them. I turn back to Amari, who places her popcorn at her feet and faces me.
“You what? Are you just gonna keep lying?” she asks.
“I’m not lying, you just don’t want to hear the truth.” I can’t help but add, “As usual.”
“Whatever, just answer,” she says, and picks her popcorn off the ground. “Do you still love me?”
I take a beat before answering, to consider what the truth is and whether I want to share it.
But I don’t even know the whole truth myself—I almost want to tell her whatever will get me out of here the quickest. I’m surprised that I feel so conflicted about being with her.
I spent a lot of time wondering what it would be like to see Amari again … and then I met Deanna.
This is about more than just Deanna, though.
This is about everything. I’ve learned a lot in the months since leaving the center, and my biggest lesson has been that I’m tired of people making choices for me—my mom entering me in PINS, the judge sending me away, everyone at the center controlling when I ate and slept and who I talked to.
Even Amari, in a way, made choices for me—she picked me out of all the girls and pulled me into her orbit, so sure of herself I barely questioned it.
It’s hard to turn down that kind of attention when you feel completely alone.
“Just answer me, Jas. Do you?”
“I’m really sorry, Amari, but I’ve moved on.” I wait anxiously for her to lash out.
She takes a really long swig of her soda before she responds. “This is about that chick you were with at the carnival, right?”
“Her name is Deanna,” I say. “She’s not just some chick.”
Amari scoffs. “All those bitches are the same.”
“Don’t call them that,” I say.
“I can call them whatever I want. I know what those girls are like. I’ve seen them around.”
I look at her and see the girl I first met at the center, the one who had no regard for anything or anyone but herself. Her tone reminds me of how she would speak to Tanya whenever she was on the verge of saying or doing something mean. I regret upsetting her, but for a different reason now.
“You don’t know them,” I say.
“I know enough.”
“What does that mean?”
Amari smiles mysteriously but doesn’t answer my question.
I look around to make sure no one’s listening in. As the lights go down, I confirm it’s still just us and the older couple in the theater.
“They don’t know about you, do they? At least I’m not the only person being lied to.”
“I’m not lying to anyone,” I insist. “Listen, Amari, we can probably be friends at some point, just not right now. I’m still getting on my mom’s good side.”
“Friends. Friends? You think I want to be your friend…” She takes a deep breath, and another big sip of her soda. “How about I don’t want anything from you? That work for you?”
It does, and I know I should feel worse for that, but I don’t. I can’t stop thinking about Deanna and how I promised her there was nothing else to worry about. I have to make sure that’s the truth. Deanna is where my heart is now. What happened at the center needs to stay there.
It’s time I start making my own choices.
“That works for me,” I say. I can see Amari’s disappointment as the light from the screen shines on our faces. “Do you want me to leave?”
“Yeah, actually,” she says, and turns to me, her stare intense.
I can’t tell if she really wants me to leave, or if she’s testing me, daring me to take her up on it. Even if it is just a dare, I’m done playing Amari’s games.
I stand up and accidentally kick over my bucket of popcorn but don’t even pick it up. I want to get out of there.
“I’m sorry, okay?” I say to Amari.
She looks away and doesn’t respond.
I grab my bag and walk out without looking back. I can feel a knot of sadness in my chest, but it’s not enough to turn me around.
I have so much to lose, and even more ahead of me.
I hope she does, too.