by Kitty Parker
"Hey, guys!" he shouted over the din. "How about we start the movie now, yeah?"
Giving each other one last evil look for good measure, my feuding friends headed over to Tully's bed, in front of which we'd set up a small end table with Amory's laptop. The rest of us followed, Elena grabbing some pillows to situate herself on the floor in front of the makeshift movie screen. Noting that Amory was on the bed, Elizabeth joined her. I hopped up next to my ex and Tully followed, sitting to my left.
Getting up momentarily, Amory screwed around with his computer until it began to play the movie, then sat back down and dug into his Szechuan-style noodles.
As the story of Mike Enslin, the disenchanted author and investigator of supposedly haunted places, unfolded, I became completely absorbed in it. The only parts of me still entrenched in reality were my right hand and my mouth - one for getting my lo mein on my fork and past my lips, and the other for getting it to my stomach. I watched intently as Mike (aka John Cusack) argued with Samuel L. Jackson, completely ignoring the hotel manager's sinister warnings that 1408 was "an evil fucking room" and that fifty-six people had died in it over the span of the hotel's existence - all in rather bizarre ways.
When Mike finally entered the room and began to poke around, I became very tense, waiting anxiously for something to happen. The suspense was nearly killing me, stringing me along for a good long while before…
"OHMYGOD!" I shrieked, throwing my arms around the nearest person. Realizing that said person was Tully and that I was making a complete fool of myself, I blushed and started mumbling an apology.
An amused grin crept across his face. "It's okay," he whispered. "You can grab me during the scary parts. It's not like that's anything new."
He was right, of course. When we were younger, he'd more or less been my designated hand-holder during horror films. I still felt kind of weird about it, though.
Of course, when the film started to get more intense, I honestly stopped caring about awkwardness.
"EEP!" I squeaked as one of room 1408's former victims popped out of nowhere. I latched firmly onto Tully.
Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he wrapped his arm around me and held me to his side. "Don't bury your face in my shirt, okay?" he murmured. "You'll miss the whole thing."
A disgruntled-sounding cough came from somewhere to my right. I snuck a peek over at Amory, who appeared rather put out. I could understand that, of course. After all, when we'd dated, he'd been the one I'd thrown my arms around during the scary parts of movies. I felt that it wouldn't be fair to use him for such purposes anymore, though, since I'd just be stringing him along. I couldn't do that to someone I cared about so much.
I shuddered as an apparition of a woman from the fifties appeared and leapt out the window.
Tully held me a bit tighter, rubbing his hand in a soothing manner up and down my arm. He wasn't even really paying attention to what he did; it was just second nature for him, a habit he'd picked up long ago that had been resurrected.
The movie went on. When Mike was finally confronted with the specter of his daughter, who had died young from illness, and held her in his embrace before she was taken from him a second time, my fear shifted into heart-wrenching sorrow. Large, wet tears began to leak out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks.
I was a big movie crier. I could watch Forrest Gump as many times as I wanted, and the ending would still make me sob like a baby.
Tully glanced down, surprised to find a growing wet spot on his shirt. His expression softened, however, when he figured out the reason for it.
"Don't worry about it," he whispered, brushing off the apologies I had started to murmur. "I'll just wash it later."
Sniffling, I nodded, my head bobbing up and down against his chest.
He gave a little snort.
Confused, I looked up at him.
His face had begun turning pink, and he was biting his lower lip, desperately trying not to laugh.
It completely killed the mood.
I sat up straight and gave him a shove.
"What?" he asked innocently, the laughter beginning to seep out.
I frowned. "You know I hate it when people laugh during the sad parts in movies!"
No longer holding back, he chuckled loudly. "I'm sorry. It's just funny how worked up you get about things happening to fictional characters. You even cry during Beauty and the Beast!"
Sadly, it was true. The Beast letting Belle go because of his love for her just got to me. Tully would know - I'd made him watch that movie with me more times than I could count.
"I'm emotional!" I retorted. "So sue me!"
He shook his head, lopsided grin in place. "You're such a girl."
The sarcastic part of my brain took over. "Really? You don't say! Well, thank you, Captain Obvious!"
"Will you two knock it off?" Elena hissed. "It's just getting to the climax!"
"That's what she said," Elizabeth added. The two of them snorted with laughter before turning back to the film.
I had to crack a grin at that.
"How old are you, again?" Amory sneered.
"I'll be eighteen in exactly eight days," Elizabeth proudly replied, disregarding Amory's belittling tone.
That's right! I thought to myself, my eyes widening. Elizabeth's birthday was September twenty-eighth... during homecoming weekend. It was her eighteenth, too. This called for some major planning.
I nudged Elena's shoulder with my foot.
She turned around and looked at me questioningly.
"We have to do something," I mouthed.
She raised an eyebrow, not having understood a word of it.
Sighing, I gestured to her, then to myself, and opened and closed my hand to indicate talking. I then pointed to Elizabeth and pretended to blow out some imaginary birthday candles. Noticing both Amory and Tully giving me odd looks, I hastily turned my pantomime into a cough.
Elena seemed to get the message, however. She gave me a nod before turning back to face the screen.
We watched the remainder of the movie in silence.
"Wow…" I breathed as the credits began to roll. "That was… amazing."
"Wasn't it, though?" Tully agreed. "Aren't you glad we talked you into this?"
I nodded, grinning. I was going to get a big 'I told you so' from Danny.
* * *
"Okay, I'm assuming that all those gestures you were making mean that you want to talk about Elizabeth's birthday."
I nodded as I pulled the door to my room shut behind me. "It's her eighteenth. We should do something."
"We should," Elena agreed. "What d'you think? Party?"
"Well, it's homecoming weekend," I reasoned. "So it shouldn't be too hard to find or throw one. Then we could do something nice for her on Sunday morning, like make her breakfast or something."
"Sounds like a plan. If we threw a party, where would we have it?"
"Ooo, let's brainstorm! I love brainstorming!" I grabbed an Expo marker from my desk and dashed over to the small whiteboard Elena had put on her closet door.
"I think you just like sniffing those markers," she chuckled.
I pouted. "Don't make fun! Okay, let's do bullet-points. Ideas?"
She thought for a moment. "We could do a floor party."
"Mhm…" I jotted this down. "We could bug Lars about throwing one at his frat."
"What about down by Beebe Lake?"
My eyes lit up. "Yeah! Then we could do tiki torches and stuff! Awesome!"
She grinned. "Okay, then that's settled. How're we going to get the word out?"
"Stuff invitations in people's mailboxes?" I suggested.
"Good plan," she agreed.
"What about setting it up? How can we do that without Elizabeth catching on?"
"She's in the marching band, right?" Elena inquired.
I nodded. "Yeah, she plays the trombone."
"Well, I could start setting things up during the game," she suggested. "I've never really been that interested
in American football."
I raised my eyebrows. "You sure?"
"Positive," she confirmed. "And afterward, I'll get the boys to help me while you keep her busy."
"How am I supposed to do that?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Take her into town or something."
I chuckled. "You're pretty good at planning these things. Am I sensing some prior surprise party experience here?"
"We threw one for my mum's fiftieth," she explained, grinning. "She never suspected a thing."
I returned her grin. "Well, with any luck, neither will Elizabeth."
Chapter 7: Warning! Volatile if Dissolved in Vodka!
"So, what d'you think?"
I gave Tully a once-over. "I think that paint clashes really badly with your hair."
He pouted, annoyed that I had insulted his "makeup." To show his Cornell pride for the homecoming football game against Yale, he'd painted one half of his face bright red and the other half white.
I chuckled, sitting down on his bed. "I'm kidding, Tully. Your school spirit's awesome."
"You really need to get into this more, Evie," he chastised.
"I'm wearing red!" I protested, gesturing to my attire. "And I have those red Mardi Gras beads, too!"
He rolled his eyes. "Come here."
I looked at him suspiciously. "What're you going to do?"
"Just liven you up a bit." He smiled innocently.
I didn't move.
Sighing, he grabbed the tube of red face-paint he'd bought and approached me.
I leaned back on the bed as far as I was able. "Don't you even think about it, Tully McFadden!"
Looming over me, he grinned. "It's past the thinking stage, Eves. It's in the doing stage." So saying, he swiftly wiped his fingers across my face, creating war-paint-like markings on my cheeks.
"Ew!" I squealed, trying to shove him off me. "It's all sticky!"
He tossed his head back and laughed. "It's paint. Of course it's sticky! Now don't try to rub it off, cause you'll just end up smudging it around."
I pouted. "Fine. Jerk."
He placed his hand over his heart. "You wound me!"
"I should hope so," I replied. "You ready to head out? Kickoff's in half an hour and I want to get good seats."
He snorted as he made for the door. "No chance of that."
Since Elizabeth was in the marching band, Elena was setting up for the party, and Amory had promised some friends from his statistics class that he'd sit with them during the game, Tully and I were on our own. Though I certainly wasn't going to tell him this, I was sort of using the time as a test of the health of our newly rekindled friendship. I figured that if we spent a couple of hours together without our other friends and things didn't get awkward, we were doing pretty well.
To save time and legwork, Tully and I decided to catch a TCAT bus over to the stadium, which was clear on the other side of campus. We tromped down the center aisle and plopped down in a couple of the plastic seats.
"You excited?" he inquired.
I grinned. "Of course! It's going to be a blast!"
He chuckled. "I love stuff like this. You ever go to a Red Sox game?"
I nodded. "Yeah, with my cousin, Mike, last year."
His green eyes widened. "In the '07 season? Jeez, that was like, the ultimate dream season… or something."
"Yeah, the night I went, Wakefield was pitching and he was totally on his stuff. It was wicked awesome." My inner Bostonian was beginning to surface as I gushed about my beloved baseball team.
"You've gotta love Wake."
"Oh definitely. He's a legend. He turned forty-two back in August, you know," I informed him.
"Mhm. August second, just six days before I turned nineteen."
I raised my eyebrows. "You know the actual day?"
He nodded proudly. "I do."
"Stalker, much?" I teased.
"You should talk," he scoffed. "I definitely overheard you telling Elizabeth that you want to have Jacoby Ellsbury's babies."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, me and every other girl in New England."
"I also could've sworn I heard some squealing and the word 'orgasmic' when you were watching Josh Beckett pitch the other night. Care to comment on that, Ms. Kaiser?" He raised an eyebrow.
I blushed, unable to hide my grin. "Nope."
A thoughtful look came over Tully's features. "I could totally take Beckett in a fight," he mused.
I snorted. "Yeah, dream on, Tul. Besides, why would you want to beat up our ace?"
He shrugged. "I wouldn't. I was just feeding my ego."
"Typical," I chuckled. Things between the two of us seemed to be going well. The past had evidently died and I was frankly over the moon about it. As long as nothing came along to resurrect it, things would be fine.
The bus pulled to a stop over by Schoellkopf Field, our football stadium. Tully and I hopped off and made our way up into the stands. The place was completely packed. Red-clad spectators (and a small crowd of Yalies in blue at the far end) were crammed into every square foot of space, cheering like mad, even though the game hadn't even begun.
The two of us shoved our way past a group of shirtless boys with "CORNELL" painted in large red letters across their chests and attempted to find a patch of free space toward the top of the stands. Finally seeing a spot, Tully grabbed my arm and pulled me into a row on our left. Luckily for me, the girls in front of us were on the short side, which, added to the advantage of stadium-style risers, allowed me a clear view of the field.
A wave went around the crowd as we waited for the game to begin. Some people had brought plastic bugle-like things and were tooting on them enthusiastically. Others waved foam fingers excitedly in the air. I settled for making as much noise as I could via shouting, stomping, and clapping, but then decided to save my voice for later so that I wouldn't wind up with laryngitis before halftime.
A microphone suddenly buzzed to life from the press box and, over the din of the thousands of Cornellians, announced the players of both teams as they ran onto the field. They were followed by the Big Red Marching Band, which marched around the stadium in formation before coming to a halt in preparation for the national anthem.
"Hey, look! There's Elizabeth!" I exclaimed, nudging Tully and pointing to our trombone-wielding friend.
"Ladies and gentlemen," boomed a deep voice from the loudspeakers. "Please rise and remove your caps as the Big Red Marching Band performs the national anthem of the United States of America, 'The Star Spangled Banner'."
More or less everyone was already standing and those who had worn hats quickly took them off. The football players removed their helmets and held them under their arms, many placing their right hands over their hearts.
The band started in on the anthem and I could hear many spectators softly singing along:
"Oh say, can you see
By the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed
At the twilight's last gleaming?
Whose broad stripes and bright stars
Through the perilous fight
O'er the ramparts we watched
Were so gallantly streaming.
And the rockets' red glare,
The bombs bursting in air
Gave proof through the night
That our flag was still there.
Oh say, does that star spangled
Banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free
And the home of the brave?"
A loud cheer went up around the stadium as the final strains died away. It was football time.
The captains of both teams made their way to the center of the field for the coin toss. We couldn't really hear what was going on, but it was clear when the action was over that Cornell would be receiving the kickoff from Yale. The spectators erupted in cheers as though winning the coin toss were the world's greatest achievement.
I tensed as the two teams made ready to begin. Finally, Yale charged f
orward and sent the football flying toward the other end of the stadium. It was caught around the ten yard line by one of Cornell's receivers who shot forward like a rocket, deftly weaving in and out of the opposition and making it all the way up to the thirty yard line before being tackled by a Yale linebacker.
We all cheered loudly in response.
The players got into proper formation at the line of scrimmage. After the snap, the Cornell quarterback handed the ball off to a receiver, who attempted to shove his way forward through the veritable forest of large defensive players. He traveled eight yards - just short of a first down - before being dragged to the ground.
On the next attempt, the quarterback tried a different approach, throwing the ball to a wide receiver. This was successful.
"Alright!" I bellowed. "That's the way to throw the ball, boys!"
Tully hooted loudly several times, pumping his fist in the air.
Yes, football games did tend to make fans - myself included - look like complete morons.
The Big Red pushed forward, making good headway against Yale's Bulldogs, but was eventually forced to punt. On the next snap, Yale's offensive rush was cut short as a burly Cornell defenseman (who, I was surprised to find out, was none other than that Ross guy from my hall) sacked the quarterback, eliciting a deafening roar of approval from the crowd.
The game went on. By the end of the first quarter, the score was still zero to zero.
"Pretty good defense, huh?" Tully commented, having to shout over the voices of those around us.
"Yeah," I agreed. "Yale's quarterback isn't so good, though. Most of their passes have been incomplete."
Tully grinned. "All the better for us, then, right?"
I nodded enthusiastically as the players retook the field and the second quarter commenced. After a long, hard slog up the field and a couple of penalties on Yale for holding, a Cornell receiver finally broke through and scored a touchdown.
The crowd went wild.
"YES!" I screamed, leaping into the air. I tossed my head back in joy and the wind whipped my long black hair in all directions. I probably looked a frightful mess, but I honestly didn't care.
I turned to my right to see Tully's reaction and was incredibly surprised. He stood frozen in place, not paying any attention whatsoever to the game, staring at me in a really unnerving way. His green eyes had glazed over and his mouth hung half-open.
