The Summer We Believed (Denim Days #1)

Day 7 -- Melody

Duncan's driving was lousy under the best of circumstances, like when I could actually see what was coming next and could anticipate the bumps and bruises. Riding shotgun, blindfolded, was another experience altogether.

I tipped my head to try to see under the scarf he'd borrowed from his mom.

"No peeking," he said.

"Smells like popcorn in here."

"You're imagining things."

I could tell from the way I swayed side-to-side in my seat that whatever road we were on was curvy. From that, I tried to think of where he could be taking me. The only road this crazy-winding led to a bait and tackle shop. He can't be taking me there?

Eventually, he slowed, pulling off onto a shoulder, the tires crunching against the gravel.

"Okay, you can take the blindfold off."

I removed it, and up ahead on the right was the Lakeside Drive-In. The marquee proclaimed we'd watch a "What's Eating You?" double feature – Jaws and Zombieland. Duncan reached into the backseat, fumbled around, and pulled two grease-dotted brown paper bags of popcorn into the front seat. He handed them to me. "You have a keen sense of smell."

I laughed.

His surprise was cute. And unexpected. And memorable, which is exactly what I wanted. A true Duncan adventure. All afternoon I'd tried to imagine what we'd be doing. I'd considered a Booya tasting, or the round of mini-golf that I'd asked for. But I'd never thought of this old drive-in, a local landmark that I had secretly always wanted to go to. Even these movies were Duncan-esque.

Better yet, it felt sort of like a date. Which made the whole thing pretty much perfect.

Duncan pulled back onto the road. At the gate, he insisted tonight was on him, then he steered the car to an empty row in the middle of a field and shut the engine.

I read the flier they handed to us at the gate. "It says you have to tune the radio to AM 560."

Duncan turned the car back on, fiddled with the knobs, and got sound to go with the animated popcorn and candy bars that were dancing across the huge screen. "We don't need none of that fancy, concession stand popcorn. We brung our own," Duncan said in his best hillbilly voice. He tossed a kernel in his mouth, then pretended like he was aiming for mine. I opened wide, and the kernel hit me on the cheek.

Duncan shrugged. "And now you know why I was cut from the baseball team."

I laughed. He'd never wanted to play, but his dad had been a pitcher, which hadn't left Duncan with any options other than to tryout.

By the time Jaws started, we'd done a fairly good job of demolishing the popcorn, which was a good thing because I probably would have choked on a kernel. Every time that music started, I held my breath. When the shark popped out of the water, I nearly jumped into Duncan's lap. It didn't even matter that the shark looked fake. "You'll never get me to go swimming at night," I told him as the credits rolled.

"At night? You can't be serious. I'm moving to shark territory. I can't even imagine swimming in broad daylight."

The reminder that he'd be half-way across the continental U.S. in less than a week was like the burnt, half-popped kernels left over in my brown bag, deeply unsatisfying and hard to swallow. I picked a few out, then tossed them back and crumpled the bag.

"That was a buzzkill, wasn't it?"

I shrugged. "A little."

"Do you want to go?"