Aldo's Fantastical Movie Palace (5 page)

W
EEKS PASSED,
and inside Aldo's Movie Palace
The Vapor
was a huge success. Mom smiled a bit more, and seemed to worry about Grandpa a bit less. Who would have thought a horror flick could make such a positive difference?

The kids at Chloe's school continued to be horrid, but her mind was elsewhere — in a different world: one named Retinya. Nick's fantasy was alluring and terrifying and offered the perfect escape. Chloe dreamed of it, sketched out its inhabitants, and spent Mr. Kolberg's algebra class creating detailed maps of the landscape.

“Chloe?”

She carefully traced the Wandering Road, marked the location of the wood elves' invisible kingdom, and stared lazily around her kitchen.

“Chloe!” Mom clanked two pans together.

“Oh. Sorry. This homework is really absorbing.”

“Absorbing.” Mom frowned. “Maybe my task will bring you back. I want you to take a break from Aldo's. Q will take your place in the booth after school starting today.”

Chloe dropped her spoon into her Cheerios. “But we've never done so well. Don't you need me?”

“Someone needs you more.” Mom eased down across from her. “Nick's mother called. Apparently, Nick's back home. He won't be in school tomorrow, but he'd like to see you. Something about a screenplay?”

“He wants to see me?”

“That's what Mrs. Harris said. I want you to go over to their house after school.”

“But —”

“He's expecting you.”

Chloe pushed away her cereal bowl — she wasn't hungry. She'd been making changes to his script every day for two weeks.

This little meeting isn't going to be pleasant
.

School zoomed by, and Chloe stepped off the bus in front of Nick's gate, her stomach filled with butterflies. She entered the gate's code, walked up to the door, and knocked.

It swung open immediately.

“Is that you, Chloe?”

“Yeah, Nick. I — Ow! Don't yank the hair!”

With a yank, Chloe's attempt at a pre-war peace talk was ended promptly, and she had no choice but to follow him to his room. Nick sat in front of his computer in stony silence. She stared at the screen and chewed her nails.

“I thought your work here was limited to taking care of Hobo.”

“Okay, it was.” Chloe took a deep breath. “But Retinya, it's really good. I kind of got lost in it. Blame Hobo too. He helped.”

“My dog helped you write a script?”

Hobo turned away.

“It was weird. He barked and I wrote and — Oh, like I've been trying to say, I may have gone too far.”

“May have? I listened to the script. I should just call it Re-Chloe-ia.” He hinted a smile.

Chloe bit her lip. “You're not mad.”

“I was. But then I listened again and, well … you're kind of making it better. I thought maybe you could come over sometime, and we could work on it
together
.”

Chloe nodded. “Yeah, I'd like that. I have some ideas for your good guy … Secholit? Is that how you
pronounce that? And your bad guy — Darkness — I think we can frighten him up a bit —”

“Whoa.” Nick stiffened. “Here are the rules. You don't mess with Secholit. You don't mess with Darkness. Here are the other things you may not change.” He handed Chloe a sheet.

She sighed. “Wait. No. Like here. I have great ideas for the Safelands. It's a desert, with sand, like the riverbank behind our place. Sand is always safe ‘cause it's near water.”

“No! Sand is never safe. You know why?
It's near water!
Try being blind and walking near a river. Not smart. Just like climbing trees. Not smart.”

“That's always smart! Nobody can see you up in a tree. Nobody laughs at you. This Unknown Forest? That has to be a good place!”

Nick stood. “This will never work. Chloe, here. Take the original. Make the changes you want, I'll make the changes I want. Then we'll get together tomorrow and fight about it. Fair?” He handed Chloe the dog-eared sheets she knew so well.

“Yeah. I mean, it is your play.”

Midnight came, and Chloe was still hard at work. “A wind funnel. Like the tornado that came through last year. A tornado
inside
a mountain.” She scribbled in the margin. “How cool would that be?”

Mom knocked and poked in her head. “To bed. I'm sorry, but, Chloe, I need you back at Aldo's. Q tried — he's a good boy without Grif — but he's useless. He showed reel two first.”

“He didn't … No, Mom! I really can help Nick. I think he does need me.”

“Yes, he does. Unfortunately, I do too. Turn off the light.”

Chloe grabbed the papers, stuffed them in her backpack, and drifted off into the Unknown Forest.

“Nick, I can't come tonight.” Chloe plunked down beside him in the lunchroom. “Mom needs me at Aldo's.”

His face fell. “Yeah, I get it.”

“It's not like I have a choice.”

“Sure.”

An awkward silence settled over them. “Here are the changes. There are a whole lot of them, some on every page. I'm telling you, this could be incredible!”

“Right.”

“Hey, Nick!” A boy called from the table behind them — a voice Chloe did not know. “Did you get blinder? How come you need two guide dogs? A quick FYI, they gave you a scarred one!”

Laughter, ugly and cruel, filled Chloe's ears. “Here,” she whispered. “I'll just leave my ideas in front of you.”

“Don't go,” Nick reached for Chloe's arm, but she'd already stood.

“I can't stay.” She turned and walked quickly out of the lunchroom.

There's only one safe place for me
.

W
HAT DID YOU DO TO MY SCREENPLAY
?”

Chloe jumped, and the reel she held slipped from her fingers. She lunged for it but caught only the end of the film.

Snap
.

Reel one of
The Vapor
saucered to a clattery stop to the ground. At least the frame of it. She stared at the coil of film in her hands.

“Oh no. Nick, do you have any idea — Oh no. Do you think we keep these? Do you know how much this film cost us?” She dropped to her knees and gently hugged the reel.

“Well, too bad for you. Now, maybe, we're even. You ruined my movie, I ruined yours.”

Chloe stared up. “You can't keep coming up here — How did I ruin your movie?”

“Mom found your version when I got home from school, and while I was out with Dad, she typed all your changes into my original. It's a whole new script! I mean, I don't recognize the half of it.”

“And you're blaming
me
for that?” She peered at the clock. Five minutes to showtime. She stood and looked out the window. Easily one hundred customers.
Of all the days
.

Chloe placed the reel and the piece of snapped, kinked film onto the splicing table. “This will take thirty minutes,” she mumbled. “Maybe forty.” She swept sweat from her forehead. “Think, Chloe.”

“Who cares about that? What about this?”

Nick threw Chloe's draft in her direction. Pages filled the air and fluttered onto the splicing table, covering the movie reel.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Chloe threw up her arms. “Is it your goal to make my life officially misera —?”

Behind her, the damaged reel rattled beneath the blanket of papers.

“What the — Oh, where's Streak when I need her? Don't suppose that super dog can catch a mouse! I hate mice!” Chloe carefully lifted the sheets, and Grandpa's full mantra floated through her head:

Aldo's Fantastical Movie Palace — where dreams come true, and nightmares too
.

“This would qualify as a nightmare,” she whispered.

“Chloe!”

Mr. Simonsen!

She stretched her neck out the window. “Movie is coming up. Technical difficulties! You've already seen it seven times, so a little patience …”

Chloe turned in time to see a wisp of smoke vanish beneath the papers. “Okay, that's bizarre.” She swept away Nick's screenplay and gave the table a hard stare. “I don't have time for eye tricks.” She jammed the dented first reel onto the projector.

“Oh, God, I need a miracle here. Let the break be during the public service announcement!”

“Hey!” Nick yelled. “That better not be my screenplay I hear getting all crinkled.”

“You threw it, you goof.”

Click
. The preview started.

“And as for you, Nick. Here!” She hissed, punctuating each word by stuffing a paper into his hand. “Once again, I'll pick up your screenplay, and this time I promise I … won't … ever … mess … with …. your … dumb … screenplay … again.”

She braced for his comeback. There was none, and she slumped to the floor.

“Is the movie playing?” Nick whispered.

“Yeah, no thanks to you.”

Nick inched toward the clicking reel. “Can I … can I feel the projector?”

Chloe puffed out air. “Fine.” She stood and grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. He stroked the machine, placed his ear and cheek against it.

“Can I look through the lens?”

“You can't —”

“Can I look through the lens?”

Chloe gently pushed his head against the glass viewer in the rear.

“Light.” He pulled back, repositioned his eyes, and again pressed forward. “I saw light. Red. Green.”

Chloe frowned and stared out the window at the big screen, at the red sky above a field of green. “You're just seeing the opening scenery — Wait, you can see?”

Nick jumped and rocked and rubbed his eyes. “More. I want to see more.”

Chloe glanced down the stairs and turned back into the room. “You know, maybe this isn't the time —”

Gone.

Nick and Hobo were gone. Chloe spun around the booth, stared out the window, and gasped.

A boy and his dog walked toward the screen inside the projection beam, hovering above the audience. As if light was solid.

It was Chloe's turn to rub her eyes. None of the customers seemed to notice the small beings above their heads.

“Hello!” she called out. “There's a boy? In the beam? Doesn't that bother any of you?”

She jammed her eyeball against the viewer, felt a sucking sensation, and soon stood blinking inside the blinding light of the beam. “This isn't happening. I must've fallen and smacked my head and turned delusional.” Chloe glanced straight down as Little Jim dumped his weakened soda on the floor.

“Hey, knock it off! I have to clean that up!”

Ahead, on the screen, Nick groped about the room, bouncing off screaming children.

He's in the worst scene! He's in the movie!

“Chloe!” Nick screamed.

“Stay put, I'm coming!”

Nick heard her, and froze center left. The other kids vanished from the room, and through the crack beneath the room's door appeared a wispy, grayish hand.

Chloe reached the screen, leaped, and felt the surface give like a trampoline, before it jelloed and sucked her in. Chloe gasped and sprung to a stop beside Nick and Hobo.

“This has never happened before! Why is this happening now?” Chloe saw Mr. Simonsen and the rest of the audience at Aldo's staring at them.

“Hey!” she yelled and waved her arms. “It's us. Get my mom! Turn off the projector!”

Hobo barked, loud and frightened, and a second wispy arm materialized.

The Vapor!

“Nick.” Chloe ran to him. “We need to get out of this room.”

“Why? The screaming stopped.”

Chloe chanced a look at the two arms stretching toward Nick's legs. Hobo bristled and throated a low growl but stood his ground.

“Let's just say I've seen this movie before and this isn't the best scene to be stuck in.”

She grabbed Nick and pulled him toward an open window. The Vapor massed inside the doorway, its apelike arms grasping toward them.

“Nick, we need to jump.” She raised her head over the sill. “It's about a ten foot drop. Can you do that?
Can Hobo — Wait. This window's bright blue. It's never been blue before.”

“Blue? A blue window? That's my way in. I wrote that! Follow me.”

Nick felt his way forward. The mist gained, nipped at his heels. Nick stumbled, landed hard on the sill and scrambled through.

“Nick!” Chloe screamed.

The Vapor roared, gathered itself, and moved toward Chloe. Its fingers climbed up her legs, which fell numb at the touch. Falling to the ground, she dug her fingernails into the floor, but still she slid farther from Nick and toward the door.

“Help!”

Hobo leaped onto the creature and sank teeth into its nothingness. For a moment, the Vapor's grasp eased, Chloe's feeling returned, and she ripped her legs free. She stood and flung her body out the window.

Thump
.

She quickly rose and whipped around toward the window, glowing brighter blue. Chloe looked at her feet. She had not fallen. Instead, she'd landed on water, and now stood on an ocean or lake so vast she couldn't see its shore. Hobo's bark faded into the distance.

“I'm standing on a lake. I'm not sinking.”

Neither was the shack with the blue window from which she'd escaped.

“Okay, none of this is in the movie. Not a lake. Not a floating shack …”

Her legs trembled.

Not me
. “Can anybody hear me?” Chloe took an anxious step backward. “Mom? Grandpa?”

Then she heard it.

“Hey! Look at me! Watch me!”

Nick.

She spun and rubbed her eyes. Nick ran. Not a hesitant run, a free run. A confident run. He raced on top of the surface of the water. “I can see. I can see you, Chloe! This is exactly how I wrote it!”

“What are you talking about?”

Nick ran up to her and stopped, his eyes focused and clear. He lifted his finger to her face. “Eyes, nose, mouth, scar. Oh, big scar. I can see it all!” He bounded off.

Chloe reached up and stroked her neck.
Still me
. “Where are we, Nick?”

“Retinya. My screenplay. When my screenplay fell and your film snapped, the two must have spliced together into one story and … oh, who cares? We're here!” He leaped and pumped both fists. “And I'm not blind in Retinya!”

Chloe grabbed his arm. “That's great. That's — But how do we get home?”

“Home? Who wants to go home? Chloe, I can see.”

“But what about your family and Hobo?”

Nick paused. “I'm not going back through
that
window.” He pointed at the grayish arms still reaching out toward them. “If you want to go, that's your business. But I'm going on a walk, a long, sighted walk, that-a-way!” He pointed away from the shack, and started to skip. “I forgot how beautiful blue was!”

Chloe glanced back at the window.

“Hobo, are you still in there?” She listened, heard nothing, and cupped her hands. “Hey, Nick, did you write another go-home window ahead? I left the ending to you, so I don't know what's there …”

Nick didn't answer either.

Chloe shook her head. “Oh, Grandpa Salvador, what do I do?”