“Pretty decent,” she said.

“Man.”

Henry said, “Was that totally awesome, or what?”

“Must’ve been,” Lane told him. “Betty couldn’t even finish her popcorn.”

“Small oversight,” Betty said, and stuffed a handful into her mouth. She said to Henry in a muffled voice, “I could go for a hot dog.”

Henry and Jim headed for the lobby to pick up refreshments. They returned with loaded arms just as the lights dimmed. Lane took her Pepsi and nachos from Jim. He sat down beside her.

Leaning close to him, she whispered, “How are you and Henry getting along?”

“He’s not so bad for a twerp.”

She elbowed Jim gently in the ribs. The wrapper of a straw shot past her face and landed on Jim’s far shoulder. She grinned at Henry.

“Sorry,” he said. “Aim was off.”

“He was trying for my eye,” Betty explained.

As the movie began, Lane clamped her drink between her thighs and poked her straw through the X on its lid. She sipped her drink. She ate her nachos, leaning forward and keeping the cardboard dish under her chin, careful not to drip any of the melted cheese on her white sweater.

From the start it was obvious that this film, Dance of the Zombies, was a turkey. Henry started talking back to it. Once Jim was done with his nachos, he drew Lane closer to him. He caressed her arm and kissed the side of her face while she tried to eat the last of her chips.

“Pay attention to the movie,” she whispered.

“It sucks,” he said, and kissed the corner of her eye.

She stuck her last nacho chip into his mouth. “Suck on that,” she told him.

As Jim chewed, she took the Pepsi from between her legs and drew the cold, watered-down soda into her mouth. She didn’t expect his other hand. It had been resting on the far arm of his chair. But now it suddenly pressed tight against the crotch of her jeans. She flinched and shoved it away and choked on her Pepsi. The drink shot up her throat, sprayed from her mouth, burned inside her nasal passages and spilled out her nostrils. Hurling her cup to the floor, she hunched over and flung both hands under her face to catch the mess.

Jim pounded on her back as she coughed.

“Jesus, gal,” Betty said, and joined in the pounding.

“Is she all right?” Henry asked. “What happened?”

Finally Lane could breathe again. She wiped her tearing eyes. With a napkin from Betty, she dried her face. The legs of her jeans felt damp. So did the front of her sweater.

“What happened?” Henry asked again.

“Went down the wrong pipe,” she muttered. “I’m going to the John.” Without a glance at Jim, she squeezed past the knees of Betty and Henry. She lunged into the aisle and shoved through the swinging door to the lobby.

In the rest room she used damp paper towels to clean the faint spatter of stains on her sweater.

Second time today, she thought. First Riley, now Jim. I’m spending half my life cleaning up after getting messed with by shitheads.

Why’d he dothat?

My hands were full, that’s why. Figured he’d get in a grab when I couldn’t stop him. Rotten bastard.

Betty came in. “Are you okay?”

“No. And I’m not going back in there.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Jim. The bastard.”

“What’d he do?”

“Never mind. I’m gonna call my dad and have him pick me up.”

“Well, Jim’s waiting right outside the door.”

“Yeah?” Lane wadded the paper towels, tossed them into the trash bin, and shouldered open the rest room door. It missed Jim, but not by much. Henry was standing nearby, staring at the room as if embarrassed to be a part of all this.

“Are you okay?” Jim asked, frowning, all concerned.

“What do you think?”

“I’m sorry. Jesus, Lane. I didn’t mean for you to choke.”

“Yeah, Sure.”

“I’m sorry.”

She turned away from him and strode toward the pair of public phones beside the drinking fountain. Jim rushed after her. “Hey, what’re you doing?”

“Calling home. Go on back in and enjoy the movie.”

“Hey, come on.”

“Get lost.”

“I didn’t doanything.”

“Right.” She dug into her handbag, searching for change.

“You don’t have to call anyone,” Jim said. “I’ll drive you home, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m ready to leave,” Betty said.

“Me, too. The movie stank, anyway,” Henry said.

“How about it?” Jim asked her.

“Okay,” she muttered. “But you’d better just keep your fucking hands to yourself.”

Jim grimaced.

Henry’s head snapped toward him. Glaring, he snapped, “What did you do to her?”

“What’s the trouble over here?” the manager asked, approaching.

“We’re just leaving,” Jim said.

They hurried for the exit doors. Henry, in the lead, kept glancing back at Jim with furious eyes. He held the door open for the group.

Outside he grabbed Jim by the arm. “What’d you do to Lane, you rotten scum?”

“Don’t you touch me, asshole.”

“You want to make me?”

“Henry!” Lane snapped. “Quit it. Let go of him.”

“Better do like she says,” Jim said, “before I wipe up the sidewalk with you.”

“Oh yeah?” Though Betty tried to pull him away, he kept his grip on Jim’s arm. “I’ve been beat up by tougher guys than you.”

Jim cocked back his arm.

Lane kicked him hard in the rear. Crying out, he jerked rigid, freed his arm from Henry’s grip and grabbed his ramp. He started hopping up and down as if that somehow helped the pain. He turned around as he hopped. His face was bright red under the streetlights.

“That hurt!” he blurted, his voice high-pitched and accusing.

“It was supposed to. You want to beat up on somebody, try me. Better yet, why don’t you team up with Riley Benson? You’re no better than him. Maybe the two of you’d like a try at me.”

“Oh yeah?” He stopped hopping. He stood there, gasping, clutching his seat with both hands. “Well, fuck you.”

“Not in your lifetime.”

“If you think I’m gonna forget this...”

“I sure hope not. Do me a favor and get lost.”

“Yeah! I’ll get lost, all right! You and your asshole friends can walkhome, see how you like it.”

“We’ll like it just fine, thanks.”

He turned away from her and hobbled past Henry and Betty.

“Ciao,“ Henry said, and Betty thumped the side of his head.

Jim scowled back at them, then turned his head more until his eyes met Lane’s. “I wouldn’t take you back if you begged me. Not a chance. It’s over.”

“I’m already eating my heart out,” she called to him.

“Who needs you? You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Literally,” Henry said.

Betty thumped him again.

“Try Candi,” Lane suggested. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate your finer traits.”

Jim flipped her off, then vanished around the corner.

Joining her friends, Lane said, “Let’s walk over to Antonio’s and get a pizza. My treat. Then I’ll call home and get Mom or Dad to pick us up.”

“Spectacular,” Henry said.

“I could go for some pizza about now,” Betty said. “All this excitement sure stirs up the ol‘ appetite.”

They started walking. Lane, stepping between Henry and Betty, put her arms across their backs. “You were great,” she said to Henry.

“The nerd showed hair,” Betty agreed.

“Our Henry’s not a nerd.”

He beamed.

“You almost got yourself creamed,” Betty told him.

“That was sure some kick,” Henry said. “Any harder, you would’ve knocked his ass out his mouth.”

Lane laughed. “Well, I tried.”

“Did you see the look on his face?” Betty asked. “I mean, that crud didn’t know whether to shit or go blind.”

“He’ll wish he’d gone blind when he tries to sit down,” Henry said. “Spectacular. You ought to try out for the football team.”

“Anyway,” Lane said. “That’s over. I should’ve dumped that creep a long time ago.”

“That’s what we’ve been telling you,” Betty said.

“I’m a slow learner.”