Thin Space (20 page)

“Yeah, uh, well—” I can feel my stomach roiling. “It was a double date. Last summer.” I get a nice painful flash of the four of us standing on this very sidewalk. Logan’s breathy voice skimming my ear. Kate worming her way practically up into my brother’s armpit. The stupid smirk on his face—

Maddie curls a gloved hand around my arm and I shiver. “Is this going to be too much for you?” she says. “To be here?”

Yeah,
I think, but instead I find myself saying, “No.” I’m getting that weird feeling again, like other times I’ve unloaded stuff on Maddie, that maybe it’ll be okay. The truth is, what happened that night is hanging over me. If I don’t get it out, it’ll knock around in my head for the next two hours. But if I can
say
it, just throw it out there, maybe it will go away for a while.

I clear my throat. “I guess I started telling you this before, about how my brother and I did this really stupid thing.” I shake my head. “No. It was
me
. It was my idea, this stupid thing—”

Before I can finish, Lindsay and Heather come skipping up with their arms linked. “Maddie!” Lindsay gushes. “We were just looking for you!” Her mouth makes an O. “Whoa. Are you guys together?”

Maddie’s looking up at me and I nod—because what the hell? We’re standing here together, aren’t we?

Lindsay and Heather pass each other knowing looks, then cut right in front of us and launch into one of their standard inane conversations.

“No way.”

“I told you—”

“You did not—”

I turn back to Maddie, who’s half smiling at me, her head tilted away from the girls. “So you did a stupid thing,” she prompts.

I nod. “Right. My brother and I asked Logan and Kate to see a movie. Well, the four of us did that a lot, went to movies. I mean, what else is there to do around Andover? But
anyway, it was summer, and we were going to this movie.” I’m rambling, trying to circle back to the point, but it keeps slipping away from me until it’s our turn at the ticket booth.

I scan the list of movies and realize I’ve heard of none of them. “What do you want to see?”

Maddie raises an eyebrow. “
Pulse Referendum
.”

“Okay.” I have no idea what that is. “Two for . . . uh . . .
Pulse Referendum
?” I say, and fumble around in my pocket for my cash. There’s a nice, pathetic flash of déjà vu as I skip past the driver’s license, and I curse myself yet again for not getting rid of the damn thing. Glad to see there’s still some money left. But why wouldn’t there be? It’s not like I’ve been a big spender. A few bus fares, cheap hospital flowers, that pretty much covers my expenses these past few months.

We push through the doors and the popcorn smell hits me. “We never ate lunch,” I say to Maddie. “You want something?” We sidle over to the concessions line, notice Lindsay and Heather already swaying in it, and I consider cutting in front of them this time but decide to let it go.

I’m not done with my story, and now I’m feeling that if I don’t get it out of me, I might spontaneously combust.

“You don’t have to pay for everything,” Maddie says. “I invited you, remember?”

I wave my hand in front of my face. “Whatever, but listen. See, that night was kind of messed up.” I close my eyes for a second and it’s like I’m back in the dark theater, sitting next to my brother and the girls, the light from the movie flickering over us. The sick feeling, like I’d been punched in the gut, that comes back too, so I have to stop, open my eyes, and
search out Maddie’s face, just to keep from hurling all over my boots. “See, that night my brother kissed my girlfriend and—”

“Wait,” Maddie says, and the word has two syllables. “I thought you said
you
did something stupid.”

I blink at her. I don’t think I’m telling this story right.

“Marsh.” It’s Heather. “I don’t have enough money. Can I borrow a couple dollars?”

“Yeah, Yeah,” I say. I dig into my pocket again—I freaking hate this wallet!—thrust some bills at her. I’m practically doubled over when it’s our turn at the counter. Maddie wants popcorn. I get a big bucket but can’t imagine eating any of it. A voice is screaming in my head,
Tell her, for God’s sake. Tell her
.

“My idea,” I say. “Because of what happened after the football practice. See, I was coming off the field and I took off my helmet. It was really hot that day, and anyway my head was sweaty and I was exhausted, and someone came running behind me and started tickling me.”

Maddie’s frowning. She’s probably thinking:
Where the hell is he going with this story?
But I press on. “I turned around, and it was my brother’s girlfriend. I tried to laugh it off. I said to her, ‘Hey, wrong guy,’ but she did what people usually did when they saw one of us. She stared at me. She had to think about it, see? She had to take a minute to figure out which one of us was which, and then she apologized, of course, all embarrassed because she made a mistake.” I let out a sigh. “It happened all the time. So it wasn’t like it was a big surprise. But here’s the thing: you think some people—your
girlfriend, well, you think
she’d
be able to tell the difference, right?”

Maddie’s forehead’s wrinkled up. I’m only halfway through with this and my stomach gives another lurch. I’m wondering if I’ve made a mistake, if I should shut up. I’m holding the popcorn, and I notice that my hand’s shaking. Pieces of popcorn have been dropping out, leaving a trail down the hallway.

“Marsh,” Maddie says, “let me hold that.”

“They filled it over the top,” I say. “I don’t know why they always do that.”

She slips the bucket out of my hands as we walk into the dark theater. I’m surprised how crowded the place is. Sunday afternoon and it looks like half of Andover High is here. I do a quick scan of the rows and spot Chuck and my old football buddies sprawled out in the back. The lacrosse guys are up there too, apparently recreating the high school cafeteria placement. So there’s Brad, of course, his legs kicked out over the seat in front of him, his arm around some girl.

Big shocker: it’s Logan. They’re leaned toward each other, knee-deep in conversation, so for the moment, neither one of them seems to notice Maddie and me.

I grab Maddie’s elbow and guide her down front, on the side, and hope that we can stay unnoticed.

Lindsay and Heather skip past. “Why’re you sitting so close to the screen?” Lindsay squeals. “We want to sit in the back.”

“Go ahead,” I say. “What the hell? Do what you want.” Both girls back away like I’m a crazy person.

“We’re going to stay here,” Maddie says quietly. “I’ll catch up with y’all later.” Then she turns to me and lets out her breath. “Are you okay?”

I don’t even know. I have to take stock of myself. I’m sitting in the theater that I vowed never to step foot in again. Half the school is sitting behind me, including a guy who wants to kick my ass and a girl who’d probably like to help him. I’m spilling my guts to Maddie, who, when I’m finished, in all likelihood will never want to look at me again. What am I leaving out? I crane my neck around, half expecting to see Kate hunched over somewhere. Instead, I see a familiar square jaw up in the lacrosse row, and I sink lower in my seat.

What the hell is so special about this movie? Pulse Resolution? Revolution?

“Sam’s here,” Maddie says matter-of-factly, but she scrunches down too.

“Should we try to make a break for it?” I’m getting that hysterical hurtling-toward-a-breakdown feeling, and it’s pretty clear that this isn’t the right time or place for it.

The theater lights dim. The previews flash. The surround sound blares on and the walls thump with noise. Around us people are still talking. Maddie whispers in my ear, “Tell me the rest of your story.”

My stomach tightens up, but I open my mouth and somehow words come out. “After what happened on the football field, I told my brother we should switch places. We did that sometimes—switched places—when we were younger, at school, to play a joke on our friends, to fool the teachers. But we hadn’t done it in a long time.”

“Y’all really looked that much alike?” Maddie asks. I can feel her eyes roaming over my face in the flickering dark.

I sigh. “Yeah. Pretty much. We couldn’t see it. I mean when I looked at him, I thought we looked different. Most of the time he
did
look different from me. He kept his hair longer.” I tug at the hair curled over the top of my ear, fight the urge to yank harder. But I’m going off track. I sigh again. “Good friends could tell us apart. And our parents, of course. During football, though, when we both had short hair, people had to look closer, had to pay attention.”

Okay, that’s it,
I think.
I’m done. I’ve hit my limit.
Even just talking about this is pissing me off all over again, like I’m back at football practice and the guys are going
Marsh, I mean Austin,
until I wanted to tattoo my freaking name on my forehead.

“So you switched places,” Maddie whispers, “and tricked your girlfriends?”

It sounds crappy the way she says it. I suck in my breath, heave it back out. “Because I told my brother the girls didn’t really know us. He didn’t think it was a big deal. He said sometimes people make mistakes and that was all it was. But I said I could prove it.” I swallow the knot in my throat, try to keep my voice steady. “And I did.”

I don’t know what I expect to happen here now that I’ve said it, now that the words are out of my mouth. Did I think that my head would split open? That my heart would crack apart in my chest?

Maddie’s leaned against me, her ear hovering near my mouth, her ponytail brushing my nose. She turns and I can feel her breath on my cheek.

“Marsh,” she says, “it was after you switched, right? That your brother kissed your girlfriend?”

“Yes,” I say louder than a person should speak in a movie theater. The guy in front of us flips around, frowns, and I wave at him, lower my voice. “He kissed her. She kissed him. They kissed each other.” I can’t say anything else. All I see is his smirking face. And I’m shaking. My boots shudder against the grimy theater floor. My hands tremble on the armrests.

“I’m sorry,” Maddie whispers, as the words
Pulse Referendum
blaze up on the screen. A few people actually hoot and clap. “Are you going to be all right?”

I don’t know.

“Shh,” she says. She claps her hand over mine, steadies it. “We don’t have to talk about this anymore.”

“No,” I say. “Yes.” I take a breath, feel my boots settle against the floor and my hand under hers, still now, warm, against the armrest. Miraculously, my stomach stops heaving. So maybe it was enough. What I told her. Maybe I don’t have to keep going with it.

Maddie’s got the popcorn bucket on her lap, and here’s another miracle: I think I might be able to handle some. I grab a handful and wait for the memories that are lurking to rear up and hit me, but they don’t come. Instead, I stay anchored to my seat, here with Maddie, watching
Pulse Referendum
. The few flickers I get of that other night—I push those away like puffs of popcorn.

Somehow I stay present in the darkness. Light flashes on Maddie’s face. Her ponytail nudges my shoulder. Once she
lets out a laugh and I look over at her surprised. Later, she gasps, and that catches me off guard too. The movie makes no sense, but I don’t want it to end.

When the credits start rolling, I squint at the screen for a few seconds before I’m back to reality. The audience is talking, laughing, so I know we’ve got to get up too, get out of here before we’re stuck in the crowd.

“Let’s go,” I say to Maddie. She presses her head against my shoulder, turns it slowly, and I get a wave of hair against my chin. It hits me that I’ve crossed some kind of line with Maddie. Messed up person that I am, I’m not sure how that happened or even what happened exactly.

“That was good,” she says.

My heart thunks before I realize she’s talking about the movie. “It was great,” I tell her. I realize I’m definitely not talking about the movie, and I’m confused again, but there’s no time to think about this. We’re in the aisle, the mob surging around us. I grab Maddie’s hand and weave us toward the door. My legs are stiff, but I pick up the pace as we push into the light. Reality’s bearing down on me, and it’s saying:
Get the hell out of here.

Ahead is the exit sign and I tow Maddie toward it. Too late, I see it’s a dead end, one of those emergency exit only doors, and when I turn back around, we’re stuck in the middle of half the people I know.

Chuck reaches us first, thrusts an arm out, whacks me on the shoulder. “Marsh,” he says, grinning. “I thought that was you. What are you doing here, man?”

“Some movie, huh?” I hear myself saying.

“I know. This was my third time. That one part when the guy ran into that—” He takes in Maddie next to me, and his mouth curves into a goofy smile.

Circumstances demand some kind of introduction, so I clear my throat. “This is Maddie Rogers.”

“Hey,” Chuck says, his goofy smile widening. “That new guy, Sam, you’re his little sister?”

There’s another unspoken question buried in there, something along the lines of:
Are you two together?
“Yeah,” I say, and I can feel Maddie’s warm hand pressing into mine.

“It’s good to see you,” Chuck says. “Been a while since you’ve been . . . out and about.”

I shift back and forth, eyeing the faces spilling out of the theater, expecting Sam to come barreling toward us any minute. I crane my neck around, searching for another way out of here.

“That fight with Brad,” Chuck says. “Man, that guy’s such an ass. You were robbed, Marsh. Four days of suspension for what? Defending yourself?”

“Yeah.” I sigh.

“But, hey, your nose is better. Brad still looks like shit. Teach him to mess around with a football player.” He laughs. “Hey, some of the guys are talking about getting together, heading over to my house. You want to come?” He smacks my shoulder again.

I’ve forgotten how physical Chuck is. On the football field, we used to go up against each other during scrimmages. Chuck was always my one-on-one partner. We got so we could read each other, really know what the other one was
thinking. Like Chuck would do this thing where he’d lean to one side, and I’d know he was faking, that he was going to shoot out the other way. And he knew my little quirks too, things I was doing that would give me away. We’d slam into each other and then laugh about it, how well we knew each other.