Midnight on Beacon Street by Emily Ruth Verona

Author:Emily Ruth Verona
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2023-11-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Amy

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 15, 1993

9:12 P.M. (2 HOURS AND 48 MINUTES BEFORE MIDNIGHT)

Bob has just gone to get beer and Amy knows he won’t be back. It doesn’t matter how many times she’s seen this movie—the music’s so good and the tension is so carefully drawn out. Every time she rents it, she feels like she’s watching it for the first time. That’s the mark of a good film right there, or so she’s always telling Miles.

He hasn’t called since he left, for which she is relieved and a little disappointed. Not that she wants to be temperamental—the one who kicks him out and then pouts when he doesn’t call her. It’s just been a long day and an even longer night. She hates Patrick and is angry with Miles and all she wants to do is watch this guy get a knife right through the chest.

It’s not exactly the kill itself she’s waiting for. The first time she ever saw Halloween she was about eleven. Her cousins, Charlie and Donnie—a high school sophomore and a high school junior at the time—were babysitting while all their parents went out to dinner. This was after Annie but before Sadie. Charlie and Donnie had secretly rented the movie from the video store after their mom warned them against bringing anything scary over to the house. They’d both seen the movie before, but it was all new to Amy. While they jumped and cheered at the good kills and threw popcorn at the television whenever they got bored, Amy was fascinated by the tiny things—the little moments in between the stabbing and running and screaming.

And this moment coming up—it is the best. Her favorite movie moment of all time. It’s just after Michael Myers stabs poor Bob with the knife, using it to tack him up on the wall. The kitchen’s all dark except for some loose light reflecting off the refrigerator and the knife’s handle. Michael is standing there in his mask all still and patient, and he just tilts his head ever so slightly. Like there’s something in this death he’s trying to find. Amy considers this to be creepier than any of the actual kills or big scares. Because it is so human. And it is so subtle. And maybe, in its own perverted way, it’s just a tiny bit beautiful.

The only other shot that even compares is that final look Anthony Perkins gives the camera in Psycho, or maybe the blood pouring through the elevator doors in The Shining. Just the right implementation of craft and chaos.

Surely Miles wouldn’t like any of this. It’s all too blunt, too direct for him. He prefers quieter movies, the kinds that win awards and are hailed by critics as revelations. Amy has seen enough of them, and enjoys them, and respects them, but nothing for her could ever take the place of horror. It’s a uniquely visceral genre, which is completely thrilling to a girl who always does her homework on time

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