Last Night at the Circle Cinema by Emily Franklin

Author:Emily Franklin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lerner Publishing Group

I thumbed through the black-and-white pages, the few color shots, the underclassmen in group shots, people I’d never know or never have anything in common with except attending the same school. “I didn’t even get in the candids.”

“Score one for me.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t a competition.”

Bertucci crossed his arms and looked at me. “I lied.”

We used to put on fake coaching voices, giving each other lame pep talks (“You’re gonna go in there and order pepperoni, and when you think you got nothin’ left, you’re gonna find a Sprite.”). I waited for him to use the voice now. “Anyway, you have nothing to worry about. You’re an honorable guy. The key is to leave your mark on the world.”

“Ah, your trademarked phrase. You should get that tattooed on your shoulder.”

“Maybe I shall,” he said, but we both knew he wouldn’t. I looked back down at the book, trying to find a shot of Olivia, and when I looked back up to say I couldn’t find one, Bertucci wasn’t there.

••••

I had the feeling, as I found my way back to the art gallery, that I was missing something crucial. Like if you had a kid and forgot him somewhere or like when my dad had come out of the Slice once and saw that his car wasn’t there. He’d called the police and my mom and me and was all flailing around spewing his feelings about everything to the police when I looked away out of embarrassment and, to be honest, boredom, and noticed that there, across Chestnut Avemue, was his car. Poorly parked, because it had rolled down the steep incline? Yeah, but definitely his. Was my father happy or grateful that I pointed out his car was not in fact stolen but that he’d forgotten to set the emergency brake? No. He was pissed. Like it was my fault.

Anyway, I had the feeling that something like that was happening. The car was in front of me, but I couldn’t see it.

I did, however, notice something else. “Bob!” I screamed, and my voice sounded girly so I tried it again. “Bob!” There in the frame was my flamingo. Horrifying to me was that I felt like crying when I saw the painting. Bertucci had taken the time to frame it and hang it and for some reason I found this more touching than weird.

As much as I wanted to get out of the Circle, I didn’t want to leave Bob there because I knew I’d never see him again, not like this, so I unhooked the painting from the small clasp at the back and hefted it under one arm. I walked down the stairs, continuing on my search for actual people.

What if Livvy was really hurt? What if some cleaver-wielding lunatic had found her? What was wrong with me that I was trying to save Bob instead of grabbing Olivia and telling her I missed her, that I was worried? I wanted to see Olivia, show her Bob, and ask her where she’d gone in the maze of darkness.

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