Aldo's Fantastical Movie Palace Read Free

projector reels. Her large task done, she bagged the three mice Streak neatly laid out in the foyer and met Mom in the ticket booth.
    â€œWe don’t have enough ones. We don’t have enough fives or tens either.” Mom forced a smile. “Never mind. Check the climate of the auditorium, make one last sweep, and then we open.”
    Chloe carried Streak through Aldo’s massive auditorium doors and took a deep breath.
    Far above her head, painted storm clouds billowed and spiraled, poking black, spindly fingers across theceiling. Chloe stared at the strange cloud, and the longer she stared, the more it seemed to spread, to shift. Against the ominous backdrop, friendlier, whiter patches scooted gently across the plaster sky.
    â€œReally freaky, Aldo.”
    Around the ceiling’s edges, three-dimensional planets and moons glowed in front of hidden house lights. They lit up Aldo’s wild wall paintings of dripping clocks orbiting skyscrapers in bloom. But even with every light turned on, the room stayed dark, just as Chloe liked it.
    The screen didn’t.
    It seemed to glow with a faint, translucent glow. More than once, Chloe had tried to touch it, only to recoil, her hand tingling and her heart racing. Hands weren’t supposed to pass through solid objects. But hers had — right through the screen. Despite what Mom said, Chloe knew.
    The screen pit was the one place Chloe didn’t dare go.
    Welcome to Aldo’s magical world
, as Grandpa often said.
    Chloe sighed. “Nobody can see us in here.” She squeezed Streak and walked up and down every row. Mom hadn’t missed a single Whopper or Sticky Dot.
    â€œStreak,” she whispered. “It’s time.”
    Back in the lobby, Mom wrung her hands. “We okay?”
    Chloe nodded.
    â€œSo then, we are in competition with what?”
    Chloe straightened and prepared for the premovie ritual. “Everything.”
    â€œWhat’s our objective?”
    â€œGet people in the door.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Chloe smiled. “To sell them junk food.”
    â€œNot to see a movie?”
    â€œNo, to sell them junk food.”
    â€œBecause how do we pay the bills?”
    â€œBy selling stale wieners and week-old popcorn.”
    â€œAnd so if Mr. Simonsen complains about the price of popcorn today, what will you do?”
    â€œSmile and stand firm.” Chloe saluted.
    â€œWe’re set.” Mom retreated into the ticket office. “Lose the cat and get ready to sell.”
    A half hour later, there was still one truck in the lot.
    Chloe leaned over the glass counter and shouted, “Maybe there’ll be a late rush! Remember the first day we got
Indiana Jones
?”
    â€œThat was a first day. Not a last day.”
    â€œMaybe they’re all saving up for
The Vapor
!”
    â€œMaybe.” Mom stepped into the lobby, raised her arms, and let them flap at her sides. “Maybe they’ve all just forgotten we’re here.” She sighed and turned a slow circle. “Maybe we fight a losing battle. It’s just there are so many memories locked up in this place.” She exhaled, walked over to Chloe, and stroked her hair. “You may as well head on up. I can sure handle it down here.”
    â€œCome on, Streak.” Chloe climbed into the projection booth and nestled in the chair. She watched the clock above and scanned the seats below. “Nobody, and it’s time to start.” Chloe paused. “Mom’s right. How could we give up on the Palace? All our memories are here.” She placed Streak on the ledge. “You might as well keep mousing.”
    Chloe lowered her out the projection window, flicked the switch on reel one, and dimmed the lights.
    â€œOne hour, forty-six minutes, and sixteen seconds of boredom.” She exhaled long and loud, reached beneath the splicing table for the mirror, and stared. In the flickering light of the machines, there was