My Sister's Grave (Tracy Crosswhite, #1)(5)

Tracy stuffed her change into the front pocket of her jeans, grabbed her popcorn and Coke from the counter, and looked about the theater lobby, but she didn’t see Sarah.

Saturday mornings when Hutchins’ Theater had a new movie, their mother gave Tracy six dollars, three dollars each for her and Sarah. The movie was $1.50, which left change for popcorn and a drink, or to buy an ice cream at the mercantile store after the show.

“Where’s Sarah?” Tracy asked. At eleven, Tracy was responsible for Sarah, though she’d recently relented to Sarah’s desire to carry her own movie money. Tracy had noticed that Sarah had not bought popcorn or a drink and had pocketed the extra $1.50. Now she was nowhere to be seen, which was not untypical.

Dan O’Leary pushed thick, black-framed glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, a persistent habit. “I don’t know,” he said, looking about the lobby. “She was just here.”

“Who cares?” Sunnie Witherspoon had her popcorn and was waiting by the swinging doors to enter the darkened theater. “She always does this. Let’s go. We’re going to miss the previews.”

Tracy liked to say Sunnie and Sarah had a love-hate relationship. Sarah loved to bug Sunnie and Sunnie hated it. “I can’t just leave her, Sunnie.” She asked Dan, “Did she go to the bathroom?”

“I can go look.” Dan took two steps before the realization hit. “Wait. No, I can’t.”

Mr. Hutchins leaned his forearms on the counter. “I’ll tell her you all went in and send her in, Tracy. You kids go on in so you don’t miss the previews. I got the trailer for Ghostbusters.”

“Come on, Tracy,” Sunnie whined.

Tracy took a final look about the lobby. It would be just like Sarah to miss the previews. Maybe she’d learn a lesson. “Okay, thanks, Mr. Hutchins.”

“I can carry your soda,” Dan said. His hands were empty. His parents only gave him enough money for the movie.

Tracy handed him the drink and used her free hand to cup the popcorn and keep it from spilling as she walked. Mr. Hutchins always filled her and Sarah’s boxes until they overflowed. Tracy knew it had something to do with her father taking care of Mrs. Hutchins, who had lots of medical problems on account of her diabetes.

“It’s about time,” Sunnie said. “I’ll bet all the good seats are taken.”

Sunnie used her back to push open the swinging door and Tracy and Dan followed her in. The lights were out, and when the door shut, Tracy had to pause to let her eyes adjust to the dark. She heard kids already in their seats laughing and calling out names, eager for Mr. Hutchins to climb into the booth and start the projector. A couple parents were trying unsuccessfully to shush them. Tracy loved everything about Saturdays at Hutchins’ Theater, from the smell of the butter-flavored popcorn to its maroon carpet and velvet seats with the threadbare armrests.

Sunnie was halfway down the aisle when Tracy saw the shadow lurking behind a row of seats, too late to warn her before Sarah sprang her surprise.

“Boo!”

Sunnie let loose a bloodcurdling scream that silenced the theater. What followed was an equally recognizable laugh.

“Sarah!” Tracy yelled.

“What is wrong with you!” Sunnie shouted.

The lights in the theater burst on, bringing a chorus of booing. Mr. Hutchins hurried down the aisle, looking worried. Popcorn littered the worn carpet alongside Sunnie’s discarded red-and-white-striped box.

“It was Sarah,” Sunnie said. “She scared me on purpose.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sarah said. “You just didn’t see me.”

“She was hiding, Mr. Hutchins. And she did it on purpose. She always does this.”

“I do not,” Sarah said.

Mr. Hutchins looked to Sarah, but rather than get mad, Tracy thought he looked like he was trying not to smile. “Sunnie, why don’t you go back up and ask Mrs. Hutchins for another box of popcorn?” He raised his hands. “Sorry folks, just a bit of a delay while I get the sweeper. Only take a minute.”

“No, Mr. Hutchins.” Tracy looked to Sarah. “Sarah, you get the sweeper and clean it up.”

“Why do I have to clean it up?”

“Because you made the mess.”

“Uh-uh, Sunnie did.”

“You clean it up.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“Mom put me in charge. So you clean it up, or I’ll tell Mom and Dad that you’ve been keeping the money Mom gives you for popcorn and ice cream.”

Sarah scrunched her nose and shook her face. “Fine.” She turned to go, stopped, and said, “Sorry, Mr. Hutchins. I’ll clean it fast.” Then she ran up the aisle and shoved open the door. “Hey, Mrs. Hutchins, I need the sweeper!”

“Sorry, Mr. Hutchins,” Tracy said. “I’ll tell my mom and dad what she did.”

“No need to do that, Tracy,” he said. “I think you handled it very maturely, and I think Sarah learned her lesson. That’s just our Sarah, right? She does keep things interesting around here.”

“Sometimes too interesting,” Tracy said. “We’re trying to get her to stop.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” he said. “It’s what makes Sarah, Sarah.”