Bloodthirsty - By Flynn Meaney Page 0,40
his wallet and showed me the ID card. It was an Alabama license, and the guy on it had a beard.
“No way are you this guy!” I laughed aloud, snatching the card from Luke’s hand. “This guy’s, what, forty? Oh my God, he was born in the seventies, he is…”
“Where’s everyone going?” my mother asked.
She came out of the kitchen holding what looked like a cell phone. Luke and I knew it was actually a handheld UV light that killed germs. My mother regularly woke us up by shooting laser beams at the invisible bacteria around our room.
“Finn’s taking the car to the movies,” Luke said. “I’m going to a Fordham Prep thing.”
“What kind of Fordham Prep thing?” my mother asked.
“Some school ministry thing,” Luke said. “Prayers, refreshments, you know.”
“I knew Fordham Prep would be good for you!” My mother clapped her UV light between her palms.
While she was kvelling over Luke’s deepened Catholicism, I pushed open the door. I was glad my mother was focused on the bad twin. It allowed me to slip out with just a “Bye, Mom!” and avoid interrogation that would lead to a million questions about Kate.
Luke followed me down the front steps a few seconds later.
“Prayers?” I smirked, beeping the Volvo alarm off from a few feet away.
Luke crossed himself before heading off on foot to the train station. “I’ll say grace before my first Bud Light. And I’ll say a prayer for you, too, Finn—for your date.”
* * *
Later that evening, after the movie, Kate and I left the theater side by side. As we emerged from the dark and I was blown away by how she looked in the renewed light, she asked me, “What’d you think?”
What did I think? I thought Kate fit perfectly in my passenger seat, asking politely before she scanned the radio on commercial. I thought she had great taste in music (she had turned off Nickelback and turned on the new Jay-Z song). I thought Kate had great taste in snacks (popcorn with extra artificial butter, orange Fanta), although I was tortured by the popcorn smell and wished vampires indulged, at least in Junior Mints, once in a while. I thought Kate had a laugh so great that every time she laughed, I wished I had written the script (although, actually, the scriptwriters hadn’t meant the script to be funny. It was just funny because it was so bad). I was crazy about her.
“It was ridiculous to begin with,” I said. “Then Miley Cyrus showed up!”
“I know, right?” Kate laughed. “I mean, is she really the first person the mayor of New York would call to fight terrorism?”
“Miley Cyrus shouldn’t be allowed in action movies. Or any movies.”
“Hey, hold up.” Kate grinned. “You better make an exception for Hannah Montana: The Movie.”
“Ohhh,” I said, nodding knowingly. “So you were a Hannah Montana girl?”
“So what?” Kate said defensively. “I bet you were a Pokémon guy. C’mon, admit it, you were a Pokémon guy.”
“Not even close,” I told her.
Mental note: hide three binders of Pokémon cards. Change eBay username from Pikachu4U. To… well, anything else.
As I drove Kate home, I was a little worried, because so far she had shot down any attempt of chivalry on my part. She’d opened the car door for herself, even though I tried to beat her to it. I’d let her step ahead of me in the ticket line, but then she’d been called down to the farthest ticket counter, and as I was trying to decide if I should follow her, I got called to the closest ticket counter. So she paid for her own ticket. All these things made me wonder if I could call this a date, or if it was just two people hanging out to avoid watching Ashley Milano strip-dance at a crowded kegger. Maybe I’d given Kate the “just friends” impression by not opening her car door or paying for her movie ticket. Or maybe I’d given her the “crappy date” impression.
Or maybe she was a militant feminist and my paying for her ticket or holding her door would have offended her. Yes, totally. My wussiness was a good thing.
But when we got a little closer, Kate began to fidget with the zipper of her jacket. And she actually sounded nervous when she spoke up over the Jay-Z song on the radio.
“Hey, Finn, I have a favor to ask.”
A favor? I’m sure I could oblige. Did she need me to kiss her? Lean over the gearshift