Last Night at the Circle Cinema Read Free

Like everything else in this town.”
    Of course Bertucci had thought ahead, or at least it seemed that way, and he led us around the side of the building where the overhang sheltered us from the deluge and the doors were held closed with a chain.
    And of course, tucked behind one of the concrete angles were bolt cutters.
    â€œBertucci thinks of of everything,” I said. “Nutbarrel.”
    â€œBertucci, my hero,” Olivia said but looked at me while she said it. I knew she’d texted him before, but it was too weird to bring that up. Who am I to say who she should and shouldn’t auto-correct with?
    The chains around the door were kind of pathetic. If it hadn’t been pouring or night or our last adventure as a threesome, maybe it would have felt lame. But when we snipped through the metal and the lock slid to the ground, it was kind of a brave moment. And I was glad he’d been the one to suggest we do it, and glad I’d been the one to cut the proverbial chain.
    â€œMy friends.” Bertucci had said this every time we’d met here. His arms were ridiculously long, and he was forever gesturing with them, sort of a demented mayor.
    I fought the urge to shiver. The rain had made my hair flop down over one eye; rivulets ran down my face. I put my hand on the U-shaped door handle. My hands were girly compared to Bertucci’s. “Once we go in, there’s no turning back.” Bertucci thought I owed him hours for a day I didn’t like to think about, and now he was claiming my time. Eight hours. No matter what. A guy code? Sort of. Maybe I did owe him.
    â€œAt least there’ll be Junior Mints,” Olivia said. Bertucci ignored her. He let Olivia get away with any comment, every arm thwack, every change of plans. Maybe it seemed that way because I was inclined to let her get away with nothing.
    Bertucci gripped the door like he was fighting against gravity or something.
    â€œEnough drama,” I said and pushed him aside—not an easy thing since he’s got a half-foot on me easy and his presence towers over everything—and opened the door.

3
    Bertucci
    In AP Bio, Codman and I ended up partners for the fetal pig dissection. That wasn’t his plan—being partners—but that’s how it went down. I wasn’t all that into investigating the innards of some creature who’d hardly had a shot at being alive, but Codman practically leaped into my lap.
    â€œHang back,” I’d told him. “Wait.”
    The girls who either actually felt sickened at the thought of the dissection or just thought they had a shot at getting out of the lab clustered by Ms. Finnerman’s desk. I figured if I looked like I wasn’t doing anything, Finnerman might partner me with one of these delicate creatures. One thing might lead to another. Not that I’d follow through, but still.
    Codman was nothing if not clueless, though. He claimed a lab table and pig in a tray in our names and grabbed the scalpel, before I even had a chance to inch closer to Livvy’s friend Marta or Florida Kessler. I had a little thing for Florida. She was oddly pretty, with a small face and nice hips. She also shaved the underside of her hair. One day she’d be all nice-girl-in-a-button-down-sweater and the next she’d pull her ropey hair up, showcasing her half-shaved head. It was like she was two girls in one ....
    But Codman’s overt enthusiasm for dissection made sure I didn’t wind up anywhere near Florida or her hair. Instead, Codman and I worked our way through the ten-page lab. Well, I worked, mostly in my head and a couple pages ahead of Codman, who eventually gave up after the novelty of the scalpel wore off and the tedium of the worksheet set it in. I knew I’d let him copy whenever I decided to fill in my own. People—the Gleason Scholarship committee, for example—were drawn to my work ethic for a