as I am to forget about what happened at school today. If there’s one thing I like about my mother, it’s her ability to avoid confrontation when she needs time to think about something. I don’t want to have to stay home and talk it out tonight, because all I want is to go inside, change clothes, and head to the theater to see Miller. But I doubt it’s going to be that easy.
When I walk into the house, I see Elijah asleep in the bassinet next to the wall. I start to walk toward him to give him a quick kiss, but my attention is pulled to the kitchen.
The door isn’t there anymore, but that’s not the weird part.
The weird part is my mother and Jonah. And the mess.
My mom is on her hands and knees, wiping up the floor with paper towels. Jonah is pulling down the painting that Aunt Jenny bought my dad for his birthday. There’s stuff all over it. I tilt my head, trying to get a closer look, but can’t tell exactly what it is.
Food?
I take a few steps toward the kitchen before I’m able to put it all together. There’s an empty mayonnaise jar on the counter. Empty pudding cups on the floor. An empty carton of eggs on the counter. There’s food on Jonah’s shirt and in my mother’s hair.
What the hell?
“Did you guys just have a food fight?”
My mother’s head whips in my direction. She had no idea I was even here. Jonah spins around and almost slips. He drops the painting but catches himself by gripping the counter. He and my mother look at each other; then they both look back at me.
“Uh,” Jonah says, stuttering. “We, um . . . don’t really have an acceptable explanation for this.”
I raise an eyebrow but keep my thoughts to myself. If I don’t judge them for behaving strangely, maybe they won’t judge me for not wanting to be here.
“Okay. Well . . . I’m going to the movies with Lexie.”
I expect my mother to protest, but she does the opposite. “My purse is on the couch if you need money.”
My eyes narrow in suspicion. Is this some kind of test? Maybe she feels guilty for what she said to me today.
Something isn’t right, but if I stand here much longer, she might realize it too. I spin on my heels and head toward my bedroom to change. I don’t bother taking money out of her purse. Miller never charges me for anything, anyway.
As soon as I walk into the building, Miller’s whole face lights up, and he stops what he’s doing to come around the counter. There’s no one around, so he pulls me in for a hug and then kisses me. “Meet me in theater one. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“But . . .” I point at the concession stand. “Popcorn.”
He laughs. “I’ll bring you some.”
I head toward theater one, surprised to see it’s completely empty and the lights are on. There’s nothing even showing on the screen. I take the top row like I always do and wait for Miller. In the meantime, I pull up the theater guide on my phone to see what’s playing in theater one.
Nothing.
The last showing was a cartoon, and it ended an hour ago.
I text Miller.
Me: Did you say theater one? There’s nothing playing in here tonight.
Miller: Stay there. I’m on my way.
Miller rounds the corner a couple of minutes later, holding a tray of food. Nachos, hot dogs, popcorn, and two drinks. He walks to the top row and takes a seat next to me. “I feel like we were mistreated at school today,” he says. “I’m pretty sure it’s a law that students should get to eat. Even if that means taking our food to detention with us.” He hands me a drink and balances the tray of food on the back of the seats in front of us. “Steven owes me about five favors, so he’s manning the concession stand for the next hour.”
I grab a hot dog and a packet of mustard. “Nice. Does that mean this is a date?”
“Don’t get used to it. I don’t normally go to such extravagant lengths.”
We spend the next several minutes eating and talking. I let him do most of the talking because it’s nice. He’s animated and he smiles a lot, and every time he touches me, I get a stomach full of cliché butterflies.