Authors: Ted Michael
HENRY
INT.—MY BEDROOM, THURSDAY AFTERNOON
DUKE
Okay, how about this: we dress up in big chicken costumes, like we work at KFC or something, we have buckets full of fried chicken, and when Destiny comes out we throw chicken everywhere!
NIGEL
No.
ME
No. And that’s a waste of chicken.
DUKE
Okay, how about this: we dress up like pirates, with eye patches and a lot of gold chains, and Nigel, you can have a peg leg, and we talk in ridiculous accents and steal people’s money.
NIGEL
I like the gold chains part. And the peg leg.
ME
You would.
NIGEL
But I feel like pirates are so 2003. We need something very now. Something that’s never been done before.
DUKE
Remember when we put food coloring in everyone’s water glasses at that Sweet Sixteen out in Montauk? We could do that again.
NIGEL
No. We can’t repeat any old pranks. MTV is going to be there! This is huge. Whatever we do has to be … epic. It has to go down in history.
ME
I hardly think some random prank at a Sweet Sixteen will go down in history.
DUKE
You know what’ll go down in history?
NIGEL
(to me)
Henry, if we just ignore him, maybe he’ll disappear.
ME
My brain hurts. I need a break.
I fal down on my bed and pretend to be asleep. Nigel is sit ing in the chair at my computer, and Duke has sunk into the beanbag chair next to my closet.
ME
Put on some music.
NIGEL
What do you wanna listen to? There’s this new song I like called “Everyone at School Saw You Having Lunch with Garrett Yesterday.” I open my eyes.
ME
Never heard of it.
DUKE
Henry, dude. Seriously. Lunch in the courtyard? What were you thinking?
ME
It was just lunch.
I don’t mention the fact that I’m taking Garret on an actual date tomorrow night.
ME (cont.)
It’s not a big deal.
NIGEL
Yes it is. Nothing is ever just lunch. Next thing we know you’ll be holding hands in the hallway or something else absolutely revolting. You have to stop this before it’s too late.
ME
Why don’t you guys just chill out and mind your own business?
DUKE
You are our business!
NIGEL
You’re our best friend, Henry, and this girl is no good for you. No good.
ME
You don’t even know her.
NIGEL
Neither do you! And you already hooked up with her … what else is there to do?
I should tel them that original y, back at the Sweet Sixteen in August, we didn’t hook up. That I lied to them. That I let them think we hooked up because I didn’t know what else to say. But I don’t. I’d rather have them think I’m a coward than a liar.
ME
You know, some guys actually like hooking up with the same girl more than once.
Duke and Nigel wince as though I’ve said something incredibly o ensive.
NIGEL
Oh, Henry. What’s happened to you?
INT.—EAST SHORE HIGH SCHOOL, FRIDAY MORNING
Today is the big day. I’m taking Garret somewhere I know she wil love. I look sharp (I always do, but today especial y) and I’ve writ en her a note saying to meet me after school in the student parking lot.
I leave Garret ’s locker, and I’m walking down the senior hal way when someone taps my shoulder.
LONDON
Henry.
ME
Uh, hey.
Here’s the deal with London: she’s hot, scary, and I lost my virginity to her. It happened about two years ago. I was stil a total wreck from my mom having left. London’s mom isn’t in the picture either—we sort of bonded over that. And she was sweet. After, though, she wanted to be my girlfriend and I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. I broke it o . Then she turned into this hard-core biddy and became insanely popular and created the J Squad. We haven’t had an actual conversation since.
I feel bad about what happened with London, and I stil think about it sometimes. Realizing I suck at relationships is one of the reasons I started crashing Sweet Sixteens. It’s clear to me that I hurt her, that I didn’t handle things wel , but I didn’t know any bet er. And besides, that was years ago. I’m sure she’s over it by now.
ME (cont.)
How are you? I’m surprised to see you alone. You usually travel in a pack.
LONDON
Let’s not bother with small talk. We’re past that. And you’re not very funny.
ME
Okay …
LONDON
I just wanted to say that I saw you.
ME
Saw me what?
She motions to Garret ’s locker.
ME
I was just—
LONDON
Do you like her?
ME
Garrett?
LONDON
Of course. Do you? Like her?
I’m silent.
LONDON (cont.)
Well?
ME
Why does it matter to you?
LONDON
(scowling)
If that’s how you want to play this, Henry, then ne.
But I’m on to you.
She stomps away, and I am incredibly confused by what just happened. Why are girls so crazy?
Later, I’m waiting in Garret ’s driveway when there’s a tap on my car window. It’s Garret . I open the door and let her inside; Ryan Adams’s album Easy Tiger is playing on my stereo. I am nervous but happy.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey.”
“How was your day?”
“It was good,” I tel her. “Bet er now that you’re here.”
She laughs, and I laugh too. Who is this person talking? Bet er now that you’re here? I can’t believe I just said those words, let alone meant them.
Garret is wearing a simple black dress. She looks incredible. Something makes me want to take her in my arms and kiss her.
I do.
Then she looks at me in a way I don’t think anyone has ever real y looked at me before.
“So, are you ready for tonight?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “Where are we going? This is such a mystery!”
“What would you say if I told you I was taking you somewhere I can guarantee you’ve never been?” She smiles. “I would say let’s go.”
“This is so cool,” Garret says as we pul into the parking lot and nd a spot. I’ve taken her to one—and my favorite—of the only drive-in movie theaters on Long Island. They’re basical y extinct, save a few classics that refuse to shut down. Most of the time they play old romantic comedies or horror icks. Tonight? They’re playing Night of the Living Dead.
“I hope this is okay,” I tel her. “I didn’t know if you liked scary movies, but I thought I’d take a chance.” She messes up my hair with her ngers. “It’s great.”
“Are you sure? I’ve never, um, you know. Been on a date before. Not, like, a real one, anyway. Do you wanna go someplace fancy for dinner instead?”
“I have simple tastes, Henry. Give me a movie and some popcorn and I’m good to go.”
“My kind of girl,” I say, relieved. “I’l be right back.”
I buy us popcorn, soda, and some Swedish Fish; when I get back, the movie is about to start.
“I asked for champagne but al they had was Diet Coke.”
“What drive-in movie theater doesn’t serve champagne to minors?” Garret asks. “Who do they think they are?”
“I know, right? I’l have to le a complaint with the manager.”
“If he’s anything like Roger, it’s probably not worth your time.”
“If he’s anything like Roger, it’s probably not worth your time.”
“I don’t think anyone is like Roger,” I say. My car is warm and the popcorn is incredibly but ery. Garret takes a handful and licks her ngers clean.
“What are you looking at?” she asks.
“You.”
“Why?”
“I’m just thinking about al the things I’d change about your face.”
“What?” She slaps me on the arm—playful y. “Henry!”
“I’m kidding,” I say. “You know you’re beautiful.”
“I’m already out with you, Henry. You don’t have to lie.”
“You do know how beautiful you are, right? I mean, you’re gorgeous.”
She blushes. “Okay, okay, Casanova. How about we focus on the movie, huh?”
Night of the Living Dead is gross. Garret rests her head on my shoulder the entire time. Occasional y, she’l scream and her hand wil touch my leg or mine wil touch hers and I swear to God it’s electric. Our connection isn’t just physical, either. I anticipate her every reaction: which parts of the movie she’l laugh at because she’l think they’re stupid, which parts she’l close her eyes during because they’re too grotesque, which parts she’l be total y consumed by. And I know how she’s going to respond because it’s the exact same way I do.
There’s a moment when one of the characters discovers that her daughter has been turned into one of the living dead; even though there’s nothing sexy or romantic or anything remotely like that about this particular scene, I watch Garret watching the movie, feel her holding my hand, and look up at the roof of my car. I pretend I can see right through the padding and the metal into the night and whisper Thank you.
“Did you have a nice time?” I ask. The movie is over and we’re about to say goodbye. I don’t want the night to end, but it’s late and, wel , nothing lasts forever.
“I had a wonderful time,” she says, resting her head on the window. The sky is so dark it looks black. My iPod is hooked up to my stereo and I’m playing Sinatra’s “Fly Me to the Moon.”
“Do you like this song?”
“Yeah,” Garret says. “Of course.”
“Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars,” I croon, turning my hand into a microphone and doing my best Sinatra impression.
Garret chimes in: “In other words, please be trueeee! In other words, I love you.” The song ends, and we both sit there. “You have a great voice,” I say.
“You’re sweet. But no, I don’t. I’m like … a step away from tone-deaf.”
She smiles, and I can’t help myself: I kiss her. Softly at rst, and then I search for her tongue with mine. Eventual y we break for air, and she says,
“Next time we go to the movies, we should get our popcorn with less but er.” Then she kisses me again and says, “It’s time for me to go.”
“Not yet,” I say. “Just a lit le longer.”
“Sorry, kiddo, but I have a curfew. You don’t want me to turn into a pumpkin, do you?” I have never real y understood why people cal it fal ing in love but now, tonight, I do. Because when I drop Garret o and watch her wave goodbye, I feel like I am furiously out of control and fal ing fast. But also I feel like I’m ying, like there is wind and air beneath me. I don’t think you can fal and y at the same time, though; I don’t understand how it would work. It seems that eventual y one wil win out over the other, and I’m pret y sure it’s much easier to crash than it is to soar.
GARRETT
“There’s something di erent about you,” my mother tel s me. Henry and I have been spending every afternoon together for the past week, but I came home from school on my own today because the J Squad wants to have an early dinner at this Italian place cal ed Baci.
“What do you mean?”
Mom is wearing a bandana and a magenta leotard. She just got back from the gym and is dripping with sweat. “Are you pregnant?”