Similar rocks found in western Africa and eastern South America
Fossils in Australia just like fossils in South Asia (same plants?)
It’s proof that change has taken place.
It’s almost eleven and time to meet Hector’s dad for lunch, but we take a detour through the dinosaur exhibit.
When you walk through it, you feel like you’ve traveled back in time.
Huge lifelike creatures rise up so high that their heads almost clip the ceiling. There are smaller dinosaurs, too. All kinds of land and water creatures. Plants. Mist. It’s like a diorama come to life. Small metal plaques surround the exhibit. Some of the names I recognize: triceratops and stegosaurus. But that’s just because Mina and I totally wore out our Land Before Time DVD when we were younger. I don’t think it’s the best source of scientific knowledge or anything.
I always wanted to be Ducky, who was this cheerful green dinosaur. Mina would pretend to be Littlefoot. I’m thinking about this when I say, “What dinosaur would you be?” to Hector, who’s examining a dinosaur footprint housed in a glass case.
“The Troodon,” he says. He doesn’t even have to think about it. He walks around the exhibit and I follow him. He stops in front of a small dinosaur perched on two legs in the middle of a patch of realistic-looking fake grass. There’s a picture next to it, showing that this dinosaur was even smaller than a regular-sized human. “He had a big brain. Smart, but he was fierce. Like me.” He grins. “You get a bunch of Troodons together? You better watch out.”
Hector’s dad meets us in the food pavilion, which is a fancy name for cafeteria, but it’s nicer than the school one. Hector and I both get a cheeseburger and milk shake. Hector’s dad tells us all about an exhibit that’s coming in a few weeks: mummies. He’s very animated talking about a bunch of preserved dead guys. I can see where Hector gets his expert voice.
On the way out, we stop in the gift shop. While Hector looks at the geodes and fossils, I look at the miniature dinosaurs. I find one that looks like the Troodon. The lady at the register rings me up and wraps it in white tissue.
I hide it away in my bag.
MOVIE TIME 8
Movie day has finally arrived!
I’m waiting on the porch because Mina’s over at Phoebe’s and Mom’s at work. My feet tap out a rhythm on the concrete; I can’t seem to keep them still. It keeps me busy anyway. Busy so I can ignore the nervous feeling that’s joined the excited one in my stomach.
Hazel wants me to come. Even with everything that’s happened. I know this because she texted me with details. I’m invited. I take a deep breath in. Annemarie and Lucy and Hazel want me to come. That’s what I tell myself.
My sleeping bag and pillow are at my feet. Bean’s favorite stuffed rabbit is tucked deep down in my duffel beneath my pj’s and toothbrush. No one can see him, but I’ll know he’s there. Bean’s watching me, making nose prints on the front window. Every time I turn around, her tail wags.
A car slows down in front of our house and then pulls into our driveway. I give a little wave, but the only one who waves back is Annemarie’s mom. She jumps out. She has the same springy hair and pointy chin as Annemarie but is much more smiley.
“Emily,” she says. “I’m so glad you are able to join us. The girls are so excited for the movie.”
She takes my stuff and puts it into the trunk on top of Hazel’s and Lucy’s things that are already in there. Their duffels are navy and white with two little field hockey sticks crossing over the front. My yellow one just kind of sits there like an odd little duck.
The three girls are already in the back—Hazel tucked in between Annemarie and Lucy—so I slide into the front passenger seat. I sit there quietly till we pull out of the driveway, feeling like I’ve walked into a party already happening. I take a deep breath and try to relax. This will be fine. Fun. I will be normal. This will be fun. “Happy birthday, Annemarie,” I say.
“Thank you!” Annemarie practically sings.
Hazel reaches up and squeezes my shoulder. I think she’s going to say something about Nightshade. I think that the excitement about the movie must be building up in her, the bubbles in a shaken-up bottle of orange soda. I turn around. All of them are wearing Very Berry. “Notice anything different about her?” she says. She nudges Annemarie and grins.
My excitement fizzles.
Annemarie kind of looks the same to me. I hope it’s not a trick question. “Um, her scarf.” It’s plaid and I think I saw Lucy wearing the same one a week before.
Annemarie shakes her head and pulls back her hair in this exaggerated way. It must be a clue, so I say, “Your headband.”
“No!” Hazel cries. “Her ears. They’re double pierced now!”
I see it now. Two earrings instead of one. “Totally cute,” I say. Annemarie smiles and I know I’ve said the right thing.
“Early birthday present. Don’t tell her father.” Annemarie’s mother says it like there’s a wink in her voice.
“Dad’s going to flip,” Annemarie says. “But it’s worth it. Gina got me these earrings.” She wiggled the lobes. They were little gold anchors. “And Lucy got me this nail polish.” Annemarie’s nails were painted a dark shade, almost black. “It’s called Passionate Purple.”
The girls in the back break into laughter and I’m not sure I get the joke.
“My gift’s in my bag,” I say. I looked through three issues of Teen Scene to find the right thing. I knew it right when I saw it—this cool makeup bag with lipstick kisses all over it in different colors. Mom took me to the mall to buy it. I wrapped it in my favorite polka-dotted paper. “I didn’t know it was already present time.”
“It’s just something we did before,” Lucy says.
We. A pronoun for a group of people. A group that doesn’t include me.
“They’ll be plenty of time after the movie,” Annemarie’s mom says. Her words are soft and understanding. My ears burn because I know that tone. She feels bad for me.
“No big deal,” Hazel says.
I force a smile. “No big deal.”
Annemarie’s mom drops us off at the door of the theater. “I’ll be back in two and a half hours,” she says. “Have fun!” Hazel and Lucy and Annemarie tumble out the back—all skinny jeans and fuzzy boots and laughter.
The excitement bubbles back up in me, too. The next Nightshade movie! I mean, I already know what happens, but seeing it up on the screen in the darkened theater, it’s magical. The reflection of light off Nightshade’s magnifying glass. The spark and flash of the wizard’s wand. The fog and gloom of the magician’s moat in the middle of the forest. It’s all big and blown up. Larger than life.
It’s almost like, for a moment, you’re there. You’re part of it. The real world falls away.
Annemarie pulls out the tickets from her purse and hands each of us one. “Mom gave me money for us to buy some snacks, too,” she says. She holds up a twenty-dollar bill. “Anyone want something?”
I don’t want to seem greedy, but Hazel and Lucy are only looking at each other. Annemarie shrugs and starts to put the bill away. “Red Vines?” I don’t mean for it to be a question but it still comes out that way.
“Yeah—” Hazel starts, but suddenly her hand shoots out and grabs Lucy’s arm. “Joey. Peters. Is. Here.” She’s saying this through gritted teeth and her face has turned as red as the cherry Icees churning behind the snack counter.
I turn to look.
“Don’t look!” Lucy screeches. I flip back, confused. “We have to play it cool.” She pretends to be looking at the ground, but her eyes sneak up every few seconds or so. “He’s with Lamar Anthony and Evan Tibbs. He’s wearing his blue jacket. His hair is swooped to the left.”
“What do I do?” Hazel asks. She’s biting her lip and some of the Very Berry has rubbed off on her teeth. I can’t tell her, though, because Lucy’s pushing her toward the arcade where the boys are playing Pac-Man on one of the old machines.
“We
’ll go and pretend we’re interested in another game,” she says. “They’ll notice us and come over.” This sounds like it’s right out of a Teen Scene advice column.
“Why don’t you just say hello?” I ask. I’m looking at my watch and we have only fifteen minutes before the movie starts. I don’t want to miss a single moment of it.
“Are you kidding me? No. She can’t do that,” Lucy says. She rolls her eyes like it’s totally obvious.
“We won’t have time to get snacks.”
Annemarie shoves the money my way. “Here. One thing of popcorn. No butter. And Red Vines.”
I wait in line at the concession stand but turn around every few seconds or so to see what’s going on in the arcade. I pretend I’m Nightshade, a detective. So far, here’s what I see: Hazel, Annemarie, and Lucy are standing by the mechanical horse that you can ride for a quarter. The boys are super into their game. Their eyes don’t leave the screen and they cheer every so often and slap each other on the back. There’s the occasional high five. Annemarie and Lucy push Hazel closer. She swats at both of them but she doesn’t seem unhappy about it. She’s laughing. She doesn’t try to move back.
I think I’m fine waiting here, looking on, but then there’s this little sizzle of jealousy right under my skin. I don’t like Joey Peters. But I do wonder how it would feel to be noticed.
“Next,” a voice says. Then, in a little more of an annoyed voice: “Next person in line!”
“Oh, that’s me!” I say, reluctantly turning around.
I study the menu. “Red Vines, orange soda”—I grab a few straws out of the dispenser—“and a large popcorn.”
I turn back around. The girl group and boy group have merged now—fused together like the slime mold Mrs. Judd showed us under the microscope in science class. Joey’s shaking his swoopy hair out of his eyes. Hazel keeps touching his sleeve.
“With extra butter,” I say. My own personal rebellion.
We’re in our seats now. The movie theater darkens. A little hot dog with a top hat pops onto the screen, dancing and singing about the concession stand. Lucy leans over me to whisper something into Hazel’s ear. She bumps the popcorn. A few kernels fall out into my lap.
She leans back in time for me to see the gigantic No Talking in the Theater reminder that both of them just broke. Then she taps me on the shoulder. “Hey, switch places, okay?” But Lucy doesn’t wait for an answer and I’m standing, trying to juggle popcorn and Red Vines and napkins and my coat somehow. A mom a few rows down gives us a look.
Lucy slips into the chair I was in and now I’m on the outside again.
We’re halfway into the movie when Lucy stands up. She’s trying to hold giggles in, but they keep escaping like air out of a balloon. She crawls over my knees into the aisleway. “Bathroom,” she explains. She looks back at Hazel and Annemarie.
Two minutes later, Annemarie is next. She’s laughing and tripping over my sneakers and making a complete racket. She’s not even trying to be quiet, and I can feel my face twisting up grumpy because this is the part where Nightshade and Starlight are sharing theories over cups of punch at Fizzy’s. It’s a small part, but it’s my very favorite and I’m missing it.
“Bathroom.” The word explodes out of her mouth tangled up with a laugh.
Now it’s just me and Hazel. I’m watching the movie and I’m also watching her out of the corner of my eye. She reaches over and grabs my hand. “Em,” she whispers. I turn.
Sometimes, when Mom drives me to Hazel’s house at nighttime, she has to turn on the brights because Hazel lives out past the city where it’s super dark. But the lights from the car illuminate everything around it.
That’s Hazel right now. She’s full-on bright in this theater. Lit up.
“We’re going to sneak into Fast Cars, Fast Times,” she whispers.
I’ve seen the previews for that. A bunch of people driving fancy cars like Ferraris and Lamborghinis at dangerous speeds and ladies wearing small swimsuits even though they’re not at the beach.
“Why?”
She shrugs but her cheeks turn red. She grabs her lip gloss out of her pocket and smears some on her lips.
“It’s Joey,” I say. My words sound like an accusation.
“Come with us.” She’s squeezing my hand now. Smiling. Standing.
“But this is our thing,” I say. “Nightshade and Starlight.” I try to pull her back down to her seat, but she doesn’t budge. “We love this. We’ve waited forever.” My calendar says Nightshade movie in neon-pink highlighter. We counted down for the Nightshade movie. A plan we made. We. Me and Hazel and no one else. This was ours.
She shrugs again. I’m starting to hate that small little motion.
“Hazel, don’t go. You’ll get caught,” I try. “You’ll get in trouble. What about Dreamy Drew?” He’s on the screen now and she’s not even watching.
Now I’m the one holding on. She shakes my hand to let go.
“Stay,” I plead. Maybe that one word will be enough.
She turns to leave.
“Starlight—”
“We’re done with that,” she says. Her words spark now. Tiny explosions. She doesn’t turn around. “Don’t be such a baby.”
I grip the armrests so hard my knuckles turn white. I have to hold on to something.
She walks down the steps, turns the corner, and disappears out of sight.
I watch the rest of the movie through blurry eyes.
THE GREAT DIVIDE
I exit the movie theater alone.
I squint. The light out in the hallway is so bright compared to the theater. My head’s pounding now, and even though my stomach sloshes with orange soda, I feel so empty. Like my insides have been scooped all the way out.
Fast Cars, Fast Times doesn’t end for another twenty minutes. I can hear the car crashes and the explosions and music thumping even from out here. I throw away most of the popcorn, the remaining bit of soda, and three unopened straws.
I actually do have to go to the bathroom.
There’s one at the very end of the hallway and when the door closes, it’s totally quiet in there except for the fan above and this mister thing that sprays some floral scent. It’s nice. Peaceful.
I lean over the sink and look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are rimmed red and puffy. Hazel would tell me to use cucumber slices or suggest some mask recipe from Teen Scene.
Hazel.
I pump the paper towel dispenser and run a piece under cold water. I hold it over my eyes and hope the redness goes away. I let myself into a stall. I hang my bag on the hook and I just sit there a minute. It’s probably gross. There are probably a million germs on the tile floor and the walls and on the toilet itself, but I lean my head against the wall.
There’s a movie in my mind. A horror movie. Hazel standing. Hazel pulling her hand away. Hazel calling me a baby. Saying we’re done with the Unicorn Chronicles and her being Starlight and everything.
If that’s all done, what do we have left?
The door to the bathroom opens. Three voices. I pull my knees up to my chest so that my feet don’t show underneath the stall door.
“Joey so likes you,” Lucy says. I picture her leaning over the sink and applying more lip gloss.
“I don’t think so,” Hazel says, but in this teasing voice that really means, Yes I do.
“Did you kiss him?” Annemarie asks.
“Guys, no,” she replies. Another stall door opens. She’s right next to me. “You were both there. Did you see him kiss me?”
“I bet he thought about it,” Lucy says.
“Do you want to?” Annemarie asks. A sink starts. A toilet flushes.
“I don’t know.” She’s quiet a moment. “Maybe,” she says in a small voice.
Maybe! Maybe? That’s a best friend kind of secret and she’s never shared it with me.
One time Mina and I had been home alone and there was this totally terrifying movie on TV about duplicate pod people who t
ake the place of the actual people living in the town. I had to sleep with my light on for days.
But that’s what this is, I think. Some pod person Hazel, with highlights and field hockey friends and a heart for Jerky Joey, has taken over the body of best friend Hazel. It’s the only thing that makes sense.
“I bet he’ll be at the field hockey party.” Annemarie dangles the information in the air.
“What? At Becca’s?” Hazel’s voice is a little breathy. Nervous. I picture her turning red. That’s what happens to her—her arms, her face, her hands. A bright red Popsicle. Hazel hates when it happens.
“You could kiss him then.”
“What? How? What about Becca’s parents?”
“Upstairs.” All three of them burst into giggles. A faucet turns on, then off.
“Where’s Em?” Lucy asks.
“Still in the movie, I think,” Hazel says. Her voice is neutral again. “Guys, I do feel kind of bad.”
“She didn’t want to go with you,” Annemarie says matter-of-factly. “You said you asked her to come, which was way more than I would have done. You tried.”
Hazel sighs. “You’re right.”
I want to scream right now. About the movie, about Hazel’s secrets. I want to burst out of the stall and say, You did not try. I tried. I’ve been trying.
“How are you guys friends anyway?” Lucy asks. “She’s like obsessed with those unicorn stories. I mean, they’re fine, but she’s like obsessed about them.”
“Scary obsessed,” Annemarie adds.
“Yeah,” Hazel says slowly. “I guess it is a little much.” A little much? She loves Nightshade just as much as I do. My stomach gurgles. I’m starting to feel sick.
“And what’s with her and Hector?”
“They’re both such weirdos,” Annemarie says. She and Lucy both crack up like she’s said the funniest thing.
“Ms. Arnold’s project,” Hazel says, trying to explain maybe. Then I hate myself for thinking that. That she’d need to explain away Hector. “They were paired up.”
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