Movieland

Chapter 2

On the Sunday before the last week of school, Mom sent me to the grocery store. Technically it wasn't the last week of school because we still had to show up the following Monday and Tuesday, but those two days were treated more as honorary holidays. Final exams for seniors were over. All that was left was our final A/V presentation on Tuesday. Due to Lindley's rich history with film, A/V class shared the same status as the final history presentations from Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure.

Mom's, among other things, included eggs, bacon, and Brussel sprouts. And "ice-cold Coke." I tossed a party-bag of Skittles into the cart. And Cocoa Puffs. And a copy of our little town's big entertainment magazine, Lindley Entertainment Monthly. The cover photo was titled Hollywood's Greatest Action Heroes. It was a drawing Carolina had done for the magazine, and included Arnold as Dutch, Stallone as Rambo, Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones, Sigourney Weaver as Ripley, Sean Connery as James Bond, Keanu Reeves as Neo, Bruce Willis as John McClane, and there was a silhouette wearing a suit with a white question mark where the face should be. A bubble next to the picture said, "THE CONTEST: LOOK INSIDE for more information on how to join this legendary group!"

I flipped to page 23. Ms. Genero walked up with a grocery cart brimming with pot pies and Ramen noodles.

"Max Magee, how are you?"

Her hair was an unironic 80s style perm dyed the color of hay. In school, she sent a serious yet hip vibe by wearing blazers over t-shirts. In the grocery store with a cart overflowing with pot pies, she wore sweatpants and a ratty Kool-Aid Man t-shirt and was disheveled with little beads of sweat on her creased forehead.

I tossed the magazine into my cart and waved at the pot pies and noodles. "Good. And you? Surprise end of year lunch?"

She taught science my 9th grade year, graduated to assistant principal the next year, and took over as head honcho the following year. Most kids called her cat lady because she looked like a cat when she walked. She always had one piece of hair on her otherwise impeccable outfits, like a blemish on a 14-karat diamond.

"Food for a friend. You hear anything from your inside sources about the power outages? Any seniors tripping breakers as a prank?" She talked with her hands normally, which fueled the cat lady fans who called her maneki-neko after the Japanese figurine on checkout counters at Chinese restaurants. Today was that animated cat on catnip.

"Heard they planned on taking clocks out of the classrooms. No word on power."

"This damn school's going to be the death of me. Do me a favor: put your basic lid on it for now?"

"Why not buy pizza? Or those skillet meals?"

Of all my teachers, she was the only one who stared at me sternly when I asked smart but insulting questions. She stared until the headband of sweat broke and dribbled down her cheek.

"None of my business," I said.

"You got it." She scanned the magazine rack and snatched a copy of Lindley Entertainment Monthly. "The Contest. I heard you're one of the last to hold out from entering."

I blocked my cart from her view. "I'll stick to watching the movies. That's more my style."

"Max," she began, and opened a box of Kleenex to wipe her brow dry. "You don't know your style." She handed me the magazine and carted away, one wheel twitching on the gleaming linoleum.

I waited for her to turn the corner, set that magazine in the top part of the cart, and returned my copy to the rack.