After school Davianté dropped me off outside the Dollar Cinema. I wore black slacks and black shoes as required. First day flutters danced in my stomach as I resolved to make a good impression. This was it. Time to shine. I walked up to the front doors. On the windows, someone with artistic skill had written Grand Opening in red and white, with window markers. Around the words were carefully drawn snowflakes.

I opened the door and walked in. The lights were brighter than the last time I had visited. The sound of kernels popping from behind the counter and the smell of butter wafted toward me. Eleanor stocked candy behind the glass in the counter. I walked up to the waist-high door where employees entered. "Hi, Eleanor."

She didn't look up or smile. "Your shirt is in the box office," she said, flatly.

I turned on my heel, grabbed the red polo shirt, changed in the ladies' room, and came back. "What can I help with?" I asked.

"Do you have your application?" She looked at me pointedly.

I pulled the aged piece of paper from my pocket and handed it over, with my dead sister's social security number on it. I felt like a criminal. Eleanor took it and began training me on my new job—how to make popcorn, how to run the soda machine, and how to ring up items on the register. She informed me of the price chart and sizes available. The prices had been updated to reflect the current prices which had tripled from the last time I had seen the board.

Eleanor looked stoic—she didn't show emotion when she spoke, and she didn't seem to care about being sociable either. She talked strictly about business. "You'll meet the other concession clerk soon. She's due any minute. I'll be in the box office if you need me."

It would be harder to make a good impression than I thought. "Okay, thanks," I said, lowering my chin toward my body.

She sat in the box office while I waited and wondered if there would be any customers that evening. The parking lot had been empty when we pulled up, with the exception of what I assumed was Eleanor's car.

Before long, a girl I recognized from my school bus walked in wearing black slacks and shoes, and the same red polo as me. Her name was Imani. I had known her since middle school. She was known for fighting girls who dated her ex-boyfriends which made me nervous considering she used to date Davianté. She paused when she noticed me. Her eyes traveled to the ceiling, and she let herself behind the counter like it wasn't her first time. Clearly Eleanor had already trained her.

I decided to break the ice. "Hi, Imani."

"Hi," she replied. Her black hair was straightened and pulled in a ponytail. Her eyebrows were perfectly sculpted, and her eyeshadow was much lighter than her umber skin, which drew attention to her eyes with such depth and dimension. She wasn't thrilled to see me, but at least she was tolerant.

Moms and dads trickled in with small children, buying tickets for the latest animated movie. The kids' eyes were aglow. Before long two lines were going at the concession counter, with cash flowing in exchange for candy, large popcorn, and drinks. The so-called "butter" was actually warmed garlic-flavored oil. Squirting it onto the popcorn seemed deceiving, but almost every customer asked for it.

Between customers, I noticed Imani helping a boy with light brown hair. He leaned over the counter eyeing her flirtatiously. She turned to get him a soda. He took a napkin and wrote something on it—which I assumed was his phone number. She passed him his popcorn, and he handed her money, then he passed her the napkin, his cheeks flushed, and he said something I couldn't hear. Her lips parted in surprise, and she took the napkin. I heard her say, "I'll think about it." He turned and went down the hallway to the theatres. The next customer walked up to her, and she tossed the napkin in the trash.

After the first of couple movies started, there was a lull between customers.

Imani poured herself an orange soda and sipped it. Without directly looking at me, she said, "You haven't been riding the bus."

I leaned my back against the counter and rested my elbows on it. I was acutely aware of my distance to the waist-high door in case she started throwing punches. What did she care if I didn't ride the bus anyway? She never talked to me when I did. "Yeah. I have a ride now."

"I noticed." Her voice was cold.

So, she had seen me with Davianté. Her eyes bored into me, but I didn't let her see how nervous she made me. "I'm not dating him, if that's what you think."

"No?" She started filling more cups into the empty cup holders. "Just taking advantage of his generosity?"

I shot her an unapologetic look. "We're neighbors... and friends."

"Mmm hmm." She arched an eyebrow. "You're leading him on."

"Just because he is a guy, and I'm a girl..." I stopped. This wasn't leading anywhere good. Instead, I asked her a question. "If a girl gave me a ride, would that make it different?" I asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"But it's not a girl. It's Davianté. I've seen how he looks at you."

I turned to her, and we stared each other down. "What do you want to hear, Imani? Do you want me to date him? Or do you want him to live the rest of his life pining for past relationships?"

She sucked her cheeks in and turned toward the hot dog grill where the dogs were being turned by hot rollers. "I want you to leave him alone." She put a hot dog into a bun with tongs and then proceeded to eat it.

"So, since you broke up with him, you don't want to see him have friends or date?" I asked.

"He broke up with me, first of all. Secondly, if he did it to be with you," she raked me up and down with her eyes, "and if I find out anything's going on, you'd better watch yourself. All the white girls come along when they see a black man that's doing well for himself, and they scoop him up and run off."

I stood there with my mouth hanging half open and trying to think up a clever comeback—and then it came to me. "Maybe you need to date a white guy."

She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"You know—get back at all those white girls for taking your men. Take one of ours, and wipe the drool from his chin while you're at it."

For a minute, I thought she was going to jump me, but then she threw her head back and laughed. "My parents would kill me if I brought a white boy home."

"So? It's your life. Do what you want. Why do you have to narrow down your choices by race? Besides, it'll help you forget about Davianté." I went to the trash where the napkin laid on top, still clean and untouched. The boy's name and phone number were on it. "Hmmm... Brenden was really checking you out." I put it beside her.

She glanced down at it, and I could tell she was mulling it over.

"He's cute," I added.

She laughed. "I dunno."

"You guys could watch a movie together after work."

She lifted the napkin and stared at it. "I might."

The doors opened, and a new wave of customers walked up to the box office before heading to our counter. Lan and Alex stood in line with their fingers laced together. She had her hair in space buns, and she wore a red shirt with black leggings and tall black boots. She looked like a snack, and she smiled brightly. Alex was handsome by her side in a black leather jacket and dark jeans. When they approached the counter, he ordered Gummy Bears. I bent down to get them from the cabinet, and Alex bent down as well and pressed his nose against the glass trying to be cute with his face smooshed.

I laughed and put the box on the counter. He jumped up and ordered popcorn, drinks, and a pretzel. The bill came to over thirty dollars, but he didn't flinch. Lan glanced back at me to swoon as Alex pulled her down the hallway to the theatres.

Before long, the line was gone, and only an occasional straggler came to get something.

"So," Imani said, "I've had to go to the bathroom since I got here."

"Go ahead. I can handle it."

Her voice dipped to a whisper. "Yeah, but... I'm scared."

A smile tore across my face. It was hard to believe the toughest girl in school was afraid to use the bathroom. "Why?"

"Didn't you hear?" She lowered her chin. "A girl got shanked here. There could be some evil spirit lurking."

I got a chill at the thought of it. "Do you want me to go with you?" I asked.

"Okay. If you insist." She turned to leave the concession counter, and I covered my mouth to muffle my laughter.

Despite my amusement, I knew exactly what she felt when we entered the bathroom. It had low lighting with dark chocolate paint on the wall and caramel-umber polished marble countertops with gold sinks. It seemed like a creepy place to take an unsettling pee, especially if you've been watching a horror movie.

Imani did her business, and we came back out to find Eleanor helping a customer behind concessions. Her eyes darkened at the sight of us.

"Sorry for leaving" I whispered.

She ignored me and counted back the change to the customer. After he left, she begrudgingly turned to us and said, "If you need to use the restroom at the same time, come get me."

We nodded.

The door opened, and a tall officer with prominent eyebrows walked in—Sheriff Young. Eleanor stood straighter when she saw him. She excused herself and invited him into the box office where they sat and talked while she sold tickets for what felt like half an hour.

The long periods between rushes of customers meant a lot of down time and not much to do other than load a couple more hotdogs onto the grill. I decided to check my text messages.

Mom: where are you?

Mom: never mind. I found you on GPS.

I guess she forgot I was working. I flipped to Peyton's messages.

Peyton: hey I miss your lips.

Peyton: I don't know what I did to deserve you.

I cracked a smile. He was the sweetest thing.

Me: I miss you baby

Peyton: please please will you come over

Me: I will

Peyton: when?

Me: I don't know yet

Peyton: tonight?

Anxiety arose in the pit of my stomach thinking about Courtney catching me sneaking out.

Me: no not tonight

Peyton: why?

I tried to think of an excuse.

Me: I'm working tonight

Peyton: just come straight after work. I'll come get you.

I thought about Courtney, and how she could be monitoring my GPS.

Me: I can't tonight.

Peyton: :(

Me: I promise I will sometime soon

Peyton: you'd better otherwise what's the point of a relationship if we can't see each other?

I had a sinking feeling. I wondered if he would stop seeing me if I didn't come visit. I was happy being with him at school and texting, but maybe that wasn't enough for him. He had dated a lot of girls before me. I bet they had parents who let them go on dates and do whatever they wanted. Maybe they didn't even have curfews.

Me: don't worry. I'll figure something out.

Imani came to stand next to me. "Is that Davianté?" Her eyes pained by the possibility.

I didn't owe her an explanation, but I was feeling generous. "No. It's Peyton."

"You're messing with Peyton now?" She curled her upper lip.

"I'm not messing with him. We're..." what were we? We hadn't defined our relationship. "We're-"

"Friends with benefits?" She supplied.

I let out an exasperated breath. "There aren't that many benefits, okay? I don't sleep around or anything. I don't have a full benefits value package."

My phone buzzed.

Donna: are you getting off soon?

Me: in twenty minutes.

Donna: k I'll be there.

Me: thanks

I busied myself with cleaning and kept the conversation with Imani to a minimum.