Movieland

Chapter 3

"The deadline to enter is tomorrow, as a friendly reminder to my friend who is being awfully coy about why she, the film buff of all film buffs, hasn't entered. Please, ma'am, dudette, madame duderino, enlighten us."

Frankie was being Frankie. He leaned back in his chair at our table in the cafeteria, hands behind his head. I loved him the way I loved my favorite annoying yet loveable characters. "I'm just saying," he said. "Carolina, help me out."

Our trio sat at our normal circular table, a column and gap away from the popular kids at the long tables.

"Max knows how I feel. No need to belabor it."

Fact was I didn't know. I thought she wanted me to enter, but part of me also felt she admired my abstinence from entering this contest.

They called it "The Contest", but it was really a drawing, like a raffle or the Lottery. Instead of winning a new microwave or $500 million dollars, the winner was invited to a private tour of the revolutionary virtual reality simulator at the WOPR Industries Lab outside of town. The simulator was touted by The Lindley Daily News as "not only game-changing, but like inventing a real-life warp zone."

Kids at school said it was like the Delorean, only radder. Kids at school said a lot of things.

"Magee, I saw your mom last night."

"Magee, I saw your dad last night."

"Magee, make like a tree and get the hell out of here."

"Magee, did you have that dream again?"

All that said, no one had actually seen the simulator in action. Rumors spread like wildfire around a small town like Lindley.

The winner also received free pizza for life from Fratelli's Pizzeria. Fratelli's pies were the Leo DiCaprio of pizza: consistently great and occasionally out of this world. Most people entered for the free pizza.

Lindley was a Midwestern beach town sitting snug on Lake Michigan. Our population of 7,156 tripled during the summer when "The Fudgies," as Mom called them, came to town. The Contest was open to Lindley residents, current and former. A resident was not defined in the Contest bylaws, although a town of 7,000 remembers most of what happens and who comes and goes.

As far as I knew, the only kids at school who hadn't entered were me and Mandy. The truth was Mandy hadn't entered and I didn't want to do it before she did. It wasn't heroic. She left me for Peter in 8th grade and I was stubborn. She hadn't done it yet and the longer she waited the more people made fun of her.

As if not doing something that many people have done already makes you less than them.

If I stood up for her, there was a chance she'd remember I was more than a forgotten 8th grade fling.

In some daydreams, I caught people in the act of mocking her, and said, "What's the big deal? I haven't entered yet either. We're just waiting for the perfect moment." Except, I didn't actually know her or her friends. Not the way I thought I did. If we had a class together, they talked to me, but I never got the sense they paid attention. None of them knew me. It takes a special ability to be so bland that you blend in at a school of 500.

As it were, I couldn't say that in front of Carolina.

Her last name was Cartwright. She was the fourth member of our old school elementary video crew. She lived next door to Frankie and was a friend who was sort of painfully average like us. She also happened, by luck and choice, to be an amalgamation of all characters Molly Ringwald: the outcast from Pretty in Pink, the angsty 15-year-old from Sixteen Candles, and the princess from The Breakfast Club.