Almost Perfect - Brian Katcher [10]
She bit her lip. “This is the first time I’ve been to high school. After eighth grade, I was homeschooled.” She smiled an embarrassed smile, like she’d just confessed to wetting the bed or something.
Homeschooled? That conjured up all kinds of negative images. Puritanical parents who refused to allow caffeinated drinks in the house. Long sessions of Bible reading and cold showers. Private tutors, rows of girls in identical pleated skirts, the cruel whip of the headmistress, secret girl-on-girl bodily explorations …
Sorry, lost my train of thought there. But homeschooled? No makeup? Not even allowed to go out to the movies?
We had reached the track. I wanted to say something to let Sage know I wanted to help her. Granted, I wanted to help her sneak out on a date with me, but still.
“Well, if your parents ever do let you out of the house …” I gestured vaguely.
“Yeah.” Sage toyed with her purse. “Logan, what theater are you going to?”
“The Forum Eight,” I answered, suddenly interested again. “It’s off of Stadium Boulevard in Columbia. We’ll probably be there around seven.”
She was already walking away.
“See you there?” I called after her, slightly desperate.
She didn’t turn around. “Maybe.”
chapter five
THAT FRIDAY NIGHT, I stood in the cavernous, neon-slathered lobby of the Forum 8 theater and watched the college kids parade by. I felt like a farm boy who’d just driven up on a tractor. Next year was I really going to buy a Mizzou jacket and hang out in bars with these guys?
That was another reason I was worried about college. I mean, Laura could show me around and everything, but I still felt kind of out of my depth. At MU, there were students from Russia, students from Iran, scientists, hippies, anarchists … and I’d never even been to Illinois.
Tim was at the snack bar buying his requisite drum of popcorn. He kept insisting on more and more butter grease. Eventually, the girl behind the counter, a colorless teenager with short hair, rammed the bucket into his chest and took the next order.
Jack pounded on a pinball machine with both fists. I leaned on the air hockey table, knowing I couldn’t force the guys to wait any longer. It was already eight-thirty.
Jack tilted his pinball game for the fourth time. “Hey, Logan. Is she coming or not?”
I looked at my watch again. “I guess not. Go get your snacks. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I shouldn’t have bothered. Sage had only said maybe. Her maniac parents probably locked her in the basement. So what? There’d be other girls, I guessed. Probably. Tanya, or maybe some cute college girl next year. Whoopee.
Someone smacked my hand off the table, causing me to stumble.
“Props are dangerous.” It was Sage. She was wearing a fluffy white coat that seemed big enough to seat two comfortably.
“Sage! You made it!” Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how disappointed I’d felt about her not coming.
She grinned proudly. “My parents think you’re the Christian Teens Youth Group, so no funny business, ’kay? Hi, Jack.”
We took our seats. As soon as the theater began to fill up, Jack pulled out his cell phone and had a loud conversation. I don’t think there was actually anyone on the other line.
“So, how did the prostate exam go? Really? Ouch! Didn’t he lube up first? He used a what? Listen, Joe, I don’t think real doctors operate out of those U-Store-It bins. …”
Sage’s body was shaking with laughter. She was the only one in the theater not trying to kill Jack with a glare. He only settled down when the house lights went off.
When the film started, Sage began pulling boxes of candy out of her coat and passing them down the line. Tim looked at her with such rapture I was almost jealous. I wished I could have done this without the guys, but I couldn’t really bike the twenty miles to Columbia.
It occurred to me that this was only the second first date I’d ever had since I was fifteen. Brenda and I had come to this very theater. Since neither of us drove, her dad had come with us and sat two rows back.
And now here I was with an extroverted