clothes to next experience with Maggie and Tyler. Maybe a sword and shield.
Here’s us walking toward the restaurant:
Here’s us when we get into the restaurant:
The meal? The view?
No meal. No view. This time Tyler doesn’t just stand there, smiling and chatting, while we suffer. Instead, he politely signs a few autographs, excuses himself, and heads back out, pulling us with him. (Got to give him credit. He must have listened to Maggie’s advice after last time.) Anyway, we leave the restaurant and sneak into a 9:00 showing at the Rubicon Theater. The cuisine is popcorn and Snickers.
No one else is in the theater. The air-conditioning is way too high.
And the movie is in Russian, so you have to read subtitles.
Maggie insists it is a great classic.
Me, I don’t understand a thing.
Brendan hates it. He says I owe him one.
I’ll make it up to him. Next time, we go to the Cineplex to see a good, stupid American comedy.
Saturday, 5/29
I’m dreaming. Brendan and I are still at the Rubicon, only somehow we’ve stepped into the movie. We’re stranded on the frozen tundra in our shorts and sandals. We’re clutching either other tight, trying to keep warm — and we can see the audience staring, so we scream for help, but the words come out in Russian and everyone is laughing at us. …
And I hear:
I jump out of bed, thinking the tundra has been bombed.
The reality: Isabel is clomping through my room, looking for something.
“What’s up?” I say.
“Good morning to you too,” she snaps. (Like, how dare I be rude to her?) Then her voice drops to a whisper: “Where’s that rental car information?”
“What rental car — ?”
“Sssssshh, Mami and Papi will hear you. You know, the car for Hector and Cristina. Did you reserve one?”
“How could I do that? I’m thirteen — ”
“With Hector and Cristina’s credit card number, like I told you to — ”
“You never — ”
“Oh. I know, you’re busy dating and hanging out with stars and preparing to flunk your finals.
Guess they’ll just have to walk the fifty-seven miles from the airport.”
She leaves the room without even closing my door. I nearly throw my alarm clock at her.
Nbook, she never asked me to do this. (At least I don’t think she did.) Besides, why can’t Hector and Cristina rent the car themselves?
And what’s that crack about flunking my finals? I know the material (mostly).
(Well, some, anyway.)
(I can study for the rest.)
(I better.)
11:23
I just looked at the math.
Remind me never, ever, ever to open up a math book on a Saturday.
What language is this stuff?
12:47
Maggie calls. She apologizes about last night.
She hated the movie too. She was pretending to like it because she figured Tyler did. Turns out he slept through most of it.
I’m barely hearing her. I’m freaking about the finals. Especially math.
Finally I admit this to her.
She ignores me. Says she’s spending the day with Tyler on the set. They’re shooting extra footage for his latest movie — which was supposed to be finished, but they need some match prints (whatever they are). Anyway, they’re going to have lunch at the food trailer.
“I’m going to flunk math,” I persist.
She replies, “We’ll swing by and pick you up.”
“ We’ll?”
“Tyler and me. In the limo. Bring your math. I can help. We’ll have plenty of time. You and I will just be sitting around and eating while they shoot.”
Now we’re talking.
I feel relieved.
And then I think — is this Maggie talking about (a) actually going on a movie set willingly and (b) eating?
I was right, Nbook. She’s turning the corner.
Progress, progress, progress.
I just hope she holds on. …
6:02 P.M.
Honestly, I think he reads my mind.
Just as Maggie’s limo pulls up this afternoon, Brendan calls. When he finds out where I’m going, he practically begs to come along.
I make him promise not to get in the way of my remedial math. He says he’ll help
Here’s us walking toward the restaurant:
Here’s us when we get into the restaurant:
The meal? The view?
No meal. No view. This time Tyler doesn’t just stand there, smiling and chatting, while we suffer. Instead, he politely signs a few autographs, excuses himself, and heads back out, pulling us with him. (Got to give him credit. He must have listened to Maggie’s advice after last time.) Anyway, we leave the restaurant and sneak into a 9:00 showing at the Rubicon Theater. The cuisine is popcorn and Snickers.
No one else is in the theater. The air-conditioning is way too high.
And the movie is in Russian, so you have to read subtitles.
Maggie insists it is a great classic.
Me, I don’t understand a thing.
Brendan hates it. He says I owe him one.
I’ll make it up to him. Next time, we go to the Cineplex to see a good, stupid American comedy.
Saturday, 5/29
I’m dreaming. Brendan and I are still at the Rubicon, only somehow we’ve stepped into the movie. We’re stranded on the frozen tundra in our shorts and sandals. We’re clutching either other tight, trying to keep warm — and we can see the audience staring, so we scream for help, but the words come out in Russian and everyone is laughing at us. …
And I hear:
I jump out of bed, thinking the tundra has been bombed.
The reality: Isabel is clomping through my room, looking for something.
“What’s up?” I say.
“Good morning to you too,” she snaps. (Like, how dare I be rude to her?) Then her voice drops to a whisper: “Where’s that rental car information?”
“What rental car — ?”
“Sssssshh, Mami and Papi will hear you. You know, the car for Hector and Cristina. Did you reserve one?”
“How could I do that? I’m thirteen — ”
“With Hector and Cristina’s credit card number, like I told you to — ”
“You never — ”
“Oh. I know, you’re busy dating and hanging out with stars and preparing to flunk your finals.
Guess they’ll just have to walk the fifty-seven miles from the airport.”
She leaves the room without even closing my door. I nearly throw my alarm clock at her.
Nbook, she never asked me to do this. (At least I don’t think she did.) Besides, why can’t Hector and Cristina rent the car themselves?
And what’s that crack about flunking my finals? I know the material (mostly).
(Well, some, anyway.)
(I can study for the rest.)
(I better.)
11:23
I just looked at the math.
Remind me never, ever, ever to open up a math book on a Saturday.
What language is this stuff?
12:47
Maggie calls. She apologizes about last night.
She hated the movie too. She was pretending to like it because she figured Tyler did. Turns out he slept through most of it.
I’m barely hearing her. I’m freaking about the finals. Especially math.
Finally I admit this to her.
She ignores me. Says she’s spending the day with Tyler on the set. They’re shooting extra footage for his latest movie — which was supposed to be finished, but they need some match prints (whatever they are). Anyway, they’re going to have lunch at the food trailer.
“I’m going to flunk math,” I persist.
She replies, “We’ll swing by and pick you up.”
“ We’ll?”
“Tyler and me. In the limo. Bring your math. I can help. We’ll have plenty of time. You and I will just be sitting around and eating while they shoot.”
Now we’re talking.
I feel relieved.
And then I think — is this Maggie talking about (a) actually going on a movie set willingly and (b) eating?
I was right, Nbook. She’s turning the corner.
Progress, progress, progress.
I just hope she holds on. …
6:02 P.M.
Honestly, I think he reads my mind.
Just as Maggie’s limo pulls up this afternoon, Brendan calls. When he finds out where I’m going, he practically begs to come along.
I make him promise not to get in the way of my remedial math. He says he’ll help
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