I didn’t have a ticket sales problem because I basically didn’t have any seats left.
My headache was getting worse. I could hardly move, but I had to try Tina’s number again. I let it ring until the line was disconnected. They didn’t even have an answering machine—were they living in the past or something?
A little voice in my head: “Why don’t you just call her cellphone?”
I shook my head. Not her cellphone, that was impossible.
“Oh, come on. Surely this is more important.”
I shook my head again.
Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t call the cellphone. I remembered the number of Tina’s landline because I’d dialled it so often. I had no idea what her cell number was. I’d never physically dialled it; it was stored on my own cellphone, which was locked in my garage in Helsinki.
I walked slowly into the bathroom and took a painkiller. When I got back to my room, I put on my headphones and lay on the bed. When I woke up, the house was still empty and the sun was about to disappear behind the horizon.
I took a quick shower and then got into my premiere costume.
I had given my clothes a lot of thought. I’d tried my best to look the part since being back in the eighties, and I didn’t think I was a particularly vain person, but nobody puts on a gala screening at the reopening of the town’s second-biggest cinema without at least wanting to look smart. A part of me wanted to go with a tuxedo to complete the circle. After all, that’s what I’d worn on the red carpet when I first saw Back to the Future at the sneak preview.
But I was meant to be Marty. The guy I’d spent a good portion of the eighties (and, let’s be honest, my whole life) wanting to be.
I took out my Guess jeans. The ones I’d tried on back in the garage when Tina had given me her makeover. The ones I’d actually worn, back in school. The ones I hadn’t fit into since college.
I sat on the bed and gave them a shake. Put my left leg in, and then my right leg. Stood up, pulled them up, and fastened the button fly.
The pants sat loosely around my waist. Almost too loosely. My morning rides on the Crescent had done wonders, even with all of Mom’s cooking. I was back.
I didn’t want to be seen with my pants around my ankles, but thankfully the costume included suspenders, so I slung those over my shoulders and the lavender T-shirt and white-checkered short-sleeve shirt. I clipped them in place to hold the trousers up and then completed the outfit with white Nike sneakers.
After another failed attempt to get in touch with Tina, I headed out to the Atlas. Just as I got on my Crescent, I met Dad walking from the parking lot back to the house. He was grinning.
“Hey, Dad, one thing, just so you know. Remember how you wrote ‘Doc Brown’ on the poster? People may get upset when they realize it’s you and not Christopher Lloyd. The actor, I mean,” I warned him.
“If it’s Doc they want, they won’t be upset,” he said. He spread his arms wide and yelled, “GREAT SCOTT!”
I laughed. Ah well. What was the worst that could happen? Pretty much everybody in the audience was a friend of his.
“I have to get going,” I said, “but one more thing. I’ve tried to get in touch with Tina, but she isn’t answering.”
He shrugged. “She’s probably driving. Hey, she is coming, isn’t she?”
“I think so,” I said, and got on my bike. “I’ll try her again later,” I yelled as I rode away.
THE PREMIERE WAS set for 9 p.m. Mom and Dad said they’d come at around eight to help with the last-minute preparations. Rexi also said he’d come in “early,” but hadn’t specified a time. I had no reason to doubt him, because it had been the same with the film reels; he’d shown up when he said he would.
With so much time to spare, I took the longer route to town, but rode quickly past Jennifer’s brother’s house, giving the yard only a quick glance, happy to see nobody on the porch, nobody on the swings, nobody on the rock by the mailbox.
The first thing I did when I got to the theatre was turn on the sign. Then I locked up the side door again and walked to Kim’s to give him a ticket.
Of course, Kim didn’t need a ticket—nobody was going to need a ticket—but I wanted to give him something.
He was playing Huey Lewis and the News when I walked in.
“Trying to get into the mood,” he said. “Can’t wait, man. Did you know that ‘Power of Love,’ the song in the movie, wasn’t on the version of Fore! that was released in the US?”
“Actually, I did.”
“It’s crazy. This is awesome.”
“It’s like ‘Crazy for You,’” I said. “Great single, but not on any of Madonna’s studio albums.”
“Same story with ‘Boys Don’t Cry’ and ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart.’”
He grabbed a pen and paper and we made a quick list: Top 10 Stand-Alone Singles. Before we knew it, it was 6 p.m., and Kim said he had to go home to get changed.
I walked back to the Atlas, following the beacon of the red neon sign glowing above the town.
I had done everything I could. All that was left was to wait for the clock to strike nine. I wanted to get into a time machine, but this time I wanted to drive into the future! Two hours, so that I could get to the big event. Or maybe even four hours, so it would all be over.
Chapter 41
Is There Something I Should Know?
REXI WAS THE FIRST to show up. I was surprised to find him in the projection room on one of my rounds of the theatre. I didn’t ask how he’d gotten in. I didn’t want to know. An even bigger surprise was that he wasn’t wearing army fatigues but black dress pants, a dark brown jacket, a white shirt, and a grey-and-black checked bow tie. I didn’t have the guts to ask him about it, so I was relieved when he volunteered the information in his own inimitable way.
He stepped out from behind the projector and loomed toward me, his shiny bald head centimetres from my face. “Hey, what do you think of my outfit, slacker?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. He was Principal Strickland.
“You laughing at me, slacker? Get it? Slacker?” Rexi looked at me, nodding, and with a smile on his face. “I’m Strickland.”
“Of course. Perfect. Thank you.”
He looked very pleased with himself.
“So, will you show me your secret tricks?”
Rexi looked at me, the smile gone from his face. He squinted his blue eyes, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I heard a low growling.
“Basically, this goes against everything I believe in, and if you were somebody else’s kid, I’d tell you to go to hell,” he said, “but . . . you’re not.”
“All I need to know is how to start the movie,” I said. “How to press Play. Nothing more.”
“See, that’s the problem. I’ve put the reel on the projector, but how does the focus get set? How does the aperture get set? Who switches on the audio? Who dims the lights?”
I held up my diary. “Tell me what to do. I’ll take notes.”
He held a finger up and tapped at the side of his head.
“You think you can fit everything that’s in here onto that pad?”
“Well, no. But just give me the basics.”
He turned his back on me and started turning dials on the machine.
“Get outta here, kid. This one’s on me. You go and have fun. I’ll run the reel.”
“Seriously?”
“Get out,” he snapped. “Before I change my mind.”
I slowly retreated from the room. As I closed the door, I’m sure I heard him whisper, “I missed you, baby.”
MOM AND DAD showed up at around 7:45 p.m., Dad in his Doc Brown overalls and boots, his white hair tousled up, and Mom in a fifties dress with a blue scarf around her neck.
“I’m Old Lady Number Two,” she said before I even had a chance to ask.
Dad and I rolled out the red carpet and lit the outside torches, and just as we got back inside, in came Tina, Tim, and Sofie. Tim was dressed in a gre
y jacket, black shirt, and silver tie. He’d had his hair cut short and, with the help of about a ton of grease, was a pretty convincing Biff Tannen. Tina was dressed up in a white blouse and eighties high-waisted jeans. Sofie was wearing a ball gown and a tiara, and her hair had been curled. And while many twelve-year-olds might rather have died than be seen out in such an outfit, she went with it, grinned, and looked amazing.
“This place is sick,” she said. “And that means good,” she added, giving me a massive hug.
“I’ve been trying to call you all day,” I said to Tina.
“We were on the road. Why didn’t you call my cell?”
“I couldn’t remember the number,” I said, lamely. She rolled her eyes. I didn’t push it.
There were greetings all around. Mom gave Tina a short hug, while Dad shook Tim’s hand and punched him on the arm. Then they swapped, and Dad gave his little girl a handshake while Tim moved in to peck Mom on both cheeks in the European way.
There was no sign of Mom’s usual brittleness.
I pulled Tina aside into the auditorium.
“What’s going on?” I hissed. “Why didn’t you call me? Why are you all here?”
“You invited us,” she said simply, touching the side of her massive hair, releasing a waft of hairspray.
“Yes, but what’s Tim doing?”
“He’s being Biff. Like you asked, remember? Because he’s a very nice man and wanted to help his family.”
“Yes, I know, I just didn’t know that you’d—anyway, why is Mom being nice to you? She even gave you a hug.”
“If you can call that a hug, yes.”
“Hey, for our family, that was a long and tender embrace.”
“Oh, that?” She threw her arms up. “Peter, you’re such a drama queen! I spoke to Tim and it was all just a misunderstanding. He said to me, in English, ‘Your mom’s a witch in the kitchen’—apparently, it’s something his grandpa used to say. It means she’s a demon cook. But Mom heard and Google-translated it, except ‘witch’ turned into ‘old crone’ or something. Basically, she was a little too smart for her own good. Anyway, we spoke the other day and straightened it all out. Come on, Peter, keep up.” She sniffed the air. “What is that smell?”
She walked along the corridor, and under the stairs up to the balcony she found the storage cupboard. The padlock was off and the door hung open. We peered inside. The camping stove and several large pots were sitting against one wall. There were pipes and wooden spoons and airlocks and bottles of sterilization fluid arranged on shelves. Tina stepped into the space and picked up a potato masher. I stepped past her and picked up a bottle of clear liquid. I popped the top and took a sniff. It had no scent. Water? I took a sip and my mouth exploded—and I sprayed Dad’s illicit potato vodka all over the place.
“Um, you might want to take it easy with that stuff,” said Dad from the doorway. “I’m not sure quite what proof it is, but you may not be able to drive for a few days.”
I didn’t know what to say. I almost lost my temper, shouted at him. He could have got us into so much trouble—an illegal still, on my business premises? But then I thought of all the work he’d done, of how he’d gotten himself out of his rut and helped me bring my dream to reality, and I couldn’t be angry. Besides, I saw the cheeky smirk he was trying to hide and couldn’t help but laugh.
“You lock that door,” I told him. “We don’t want the building inspector seeing that if he decides to pay a surprise visit.”
“Right you are, boss.”
We headed back to the lobby, where Mom was showing Sofie some ballroom dancing moves, and Tim was tucking into Mom’s bilberry pie. Dad, looking a bit sheepish, disappeared behind the counter to do some last-minute pretending-to-be-busy. Tina and I stood off to the side.
“So, when do I get to meet your mystery woman?”
“Soon, I hope. She was here yesterday, and she said she’d be here tonight.”
“And you already went out for pizza with her? Sounds serious.”
“No, no, that’s someone else.”
She raised an eyebrow. “My little brother, the ladies’ man.”
I couldn’t be bothered to argue.
“And you’re still a time traveller, I suppose, since you couldn’t call my cell?”
I shrugged. “I love it back here.”
“You look good. You’ve lost some weight. I can barely look you in the eye, though, because of that ridiculous mullet,” Tina said. “But I’m happy that you’re happy.”
“Really?” I said.
“Really,” Tina said. “I hope this doesn’t mess up your space-time continuum.”
And we hugged.
“Hey,” we both snapped at the same time, “watch the hair!”
Our hug was brief, but it was cut even shorter by Mom’s shriek from the other side of the lobby.
“Peter, I think you should see this,” she yelled.
I left Tina standing there and in two long leaps, jumped toward Mom.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened? What’s wrong?”
Mom was standing at the door, her head tilted to her right, her nose against the glass.
“Look.” She took a step back and pressed her index finger where her nose had just been. “They’re here.”
“They are here,” I said.
“Who’s here?” Dad asked.
“Everybody,” Mom said.
Outside, on the red carpet and beyond, was a line of dozens of people, many of them dressed up as Back to the Future characters, others in their best eighties outfits, and yet others in fifties clothes. Kumpunotko had never seen such a concentration of hair and makeup. A sense of panic began to creep in.
“How am I going to know who’s who, and who’s got a ticket?” I screamed.
“Just let everybody in,” Dad said. “What does it matter? They’re all from Kumpunotko. We know most of them.”
“I guess, but how do we know how many there are?”
“Why don’t you stand here, welcome each one to your theatre, and give them a firm handshake,” Dad suggested. “And Tina, you stand with him and keep a count. Remember, there are one hundred and thirty seats. What did the fire inspector say about people standing at the back?”
“That it wasn’t allowed.”
“Fine. Stop at one-fifty.”
Dad guided me to the right spot and opened the door.
“Welcome!” he shouted.
It took me thirty-five minutes to greet everybody.
Kim came with his partner.
“Top ten movie songs?” he said. “Think about it. We’ll make a list tomorrow.”
Erik was there with his wife, and Tomi Taimi and Kari from BBB came, both with their families.
“We had to see what you’ve done with the place,” said Tomi.
“It’s such a shame it has to be torn down,” Kari said.
“Such a shame,” Tomi added.
Sara showed up with a teenage girl, both of them wearing denim overalls like they were members of Dexys Midnight Runners.
“Good to see you,” I told Sara. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“Thanks. This is my niece, Eva.”
“Hi, Eva,” I said, and turned to Sara. “I didn’t know you had siblings.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she said, and winked.
I chatted with everybody, but my conversations got shorter and shorter in direct proportion to the line outside getting longer and longer.
The Sun’s editors came to cover the event. They interviewed Dad, who stayed in character the whole time, and Tim, who grabbed the photographer in a headlock and started knuckling his skull.
My heart skipped a beat. Dad had always called Tim a “gentle man,” but somewhere behind that gentle exterior lurked a wild man who also brought out the crazy in Dad. I was just about to put a stop to the nonsense when I felt somebody grab my arm.
It was Mom.
“Let them have some fun!
It’s harmless,” she said.
“I hope so.”
“Look at Dad’s face! I haven’t seen him this happy in years. And it’s not just the makeup; he looks younger, don’t you think?”
I smiled in agreement.
“Thank you,” she said, and kissed my cheek.
“Doc” was gesturing wildly with his arms while speaking to some of the guests. I think I heard him say something about a “flux capacitor.”
“Well, I think it’s best that I get back,” Mom said, and rushed away to the other side of the lobby where Tina and Sofie were standing behind the counter, selling soda and candy.
I looked over and saw Rexi, dressed as Strickland, standing in the corner of the crowded lobby, a look of thunder on his face. My heart jumping, I darted over to see what was wrong.
“Everything okay?”
He shook his head slowly.
“Slackers,” he said. “Every one of ’em.”
I gave a sigh of relief, cursing him.
He grinned. “Get back to your people. Just tell me when you want me to press Play.”
I turned back to the line to shake hands with the next person. I extended my hand, and a large bald man grabbed it, shook it, but wouldn’t let go. He just squeezed my hand a little bit too hard, stared me right in the eye, and smiled.
“Welcome. I hope you enjoy the movie. Thanks for coming,” I said, and tried to get out of his grip. Instead, he squeezed a little harder.
“Thank you for personally inviting me,” he said, stressing “personally.”
As far as I could remember, the only people I had personally invited were Sara, Jennifer, Kim, and the owner of the coffee shop. There was something familiar in the man’s face, but I couldn’t quite place it.
“I’m sorry, I’m terrible with faces—and names,” I said. “Do I know you?”
“Come on, Pinhead, look closer,” he said.
“Pinhead?”
“Aren’t you Pinhead? From the BBS?”
I gasped. “Twisted Sister?”
“Well, yes and no. Haven’t quite got the hair these days.”
“Wow! Sorry! I thought you were a girl. Also, how do you speak Finnish?”
Someday Jennifer Page 26