Last Night at the Circle Cinema Read Free Page A

reason.
    â€¢â€¢â€¢â€¢
    â€œFirst things first,” Livvy said. Her voice was wobbly, like she was scared or cold or both, but she tried to cover her nerves by slipping behind the first of the snack counters. “Bertucci, let me guess—Junior Mints?”
    I was about to say something disarming about a welcome change of pace, but Codman corrected her first.
    â€œTwizzlers for Bertucci, of course.”
    Livvy frowned. It occurred to me then that she wanted to be the one who knew my go-to candy, that maybe she and Codman competed that way. Or maybe she’d just forgotten.
    â€œHere—allow me.” I joined her behind the counter, fumbling around the fake butter vats in search of popcorn kernels while Olivia eyed me and the paraphrenalia with interest.
    â€œYou’re not seriously thinking of making popcorn, are you?” Codman shook another box of sugar-crusted whatevers into the popcorn tub.
    I shrugged. I hadn’t been planning on it, but everything from Codman sounded like a dare, as though he couldn’t quite believe I would be able to do much of anything.
    â€œNot yet.” Livvy pushed herself between the popcorn maker and me, the dampness of her—my—sweater tangible. “Besides, popcorn’s more like our main course. We have all night to eat, let’s just get hors d’oeuvres now.”
    â€œI assume the French was for my benefit,” Codman said. He was frowning into a box Sno-Caps.
    â€œThe hors part was,” Livvy said and grinned at me.
    She had this way of smiling that I liked to think was unique to her smiling at me. That somehow her smiling at me made everything feel better, more normal.
    Lightning flashed and Livvy shuddered. “Christ, I’m already freaked out,” Livvy said, a little too loud. “I mean, how sad is that? The girl is scared. Ugh.”
    â€œIt’s not your fault you’re a walking cliché,” Codman said. He put a small popcorn bag on his head. I tried to swipe it off his head but he ducked.
    â€œLet’s think about this for a second,” I said. “Livvy, you’re only weirded out because it’s night, right?”
    â€œIt’s not just that it’s night,” she continued. “I mean, let’s be real, this is trespassing. It’s ... illegal. Like what we’re doing now is against the law. Permanent record kind of thing. Plus, you know ...” She let her voice trail off. Neither of us continued for her.
    I leaned on the glass counter, looking down at the boxes of candy. It was depressing that all of it was still organized. No one had thought to clear it. Maybe you can’t resell candy that’s been under heat lights for God knows how long, but looking at the rows of brightly colored boxes that were supposed to be treats, even at nearly five bucks a pop, I felt empty. “So we’ve got night, criminality, what else?”
    We sat, not saying much else until Codman snapped his fingers. “Motive?”

4
    Livvy
    Did we have to go in? No. Did I feel like we had to? Yes. But why?
    Bertucci’s e-mail in my back pocket made certain I knew the night was for keeps.
    Bertucci was always going on about how you have two selves, the one who wants to be a certain way and the one who just is. And how in life it’s really your job to merge the two. But all I knew, standing there with Bertucci’s soaking-wet sweater arms stretched nearly to the floor, was that I was terrified. And also that I had to tough it out. I’d dealt with worse, right?
    â€œAut vincere aut mori,” Bertucci had said to me before many a horror movie in this very theater. He loved Latin, the dead language.
    â€œEither to conquer or to die,” I said, leaning on the glass counter to steady myself. Fair enough, but what was the point? Why was I doing this?
    â€œYou look ghastly,” Codman said when he reached through the sliding door into the popcorn