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it’s tough meeting a great guy around here, honey? Wait’ll you see what it’s like over there.”
    I reach for the soda, but she’s still using it as a prop. She waves it in my direction and continues speaking to Shelly. “
This
is a good guy. You know that, don’t you?”
    Shelly smiles, almost a laugh. “He’s all right.”
    “You know it.” Chrissy sets the root beer down hard on the counter. “And what would you like?” she asks Shelly.
    “Maybe an iced tea?”
    “Sure.”
    I look at the can, knowing that there’s no way the soda won’t spray all over the place if I open it, even if I wait an hour. And I’m thirsty now, so I say, “You know, maybe I’ll have iced tea instead.” I don’t really like iced tea much, but it’s not carbonated, so it’s probably safe.
    We take seats in the third row. There are only eight rows of seats set up, six on each side of the center aisle. About five minutes later, an older couple comes in and sits directly in front of us. I look at Shelly and roll my eyes. She just smiles. I say, “I need to use the bathroom,” which I don’t, but it’ll give us a chance to take a different seat. We both get up and walk out of the room.
    The door to the men’s room is normal size, but you need to put both hands on it and push hard to get it open. It has one of those massive old pneumatic hinge devices, which probably weighs fifty pounds. Inside, the urinal is also huge, this bullish porcelain thing that’s ancient and yellowed.
    Five more people have taken seats by the time we return to the theater, and two more hustle in just as the movie is starting. So there are eleven of us in the room, about average for a showing like this.
             
    I turn my cell phone on after the movie, and there’s a message from Tucker. I call him back.
    “Kerrigan,” he says, “I got some news on the drug sweep. You probably want to get in here.”
    “You gonna be there awhile?”
    “Yeah.”
    I look at Shelly. I can’t just leave her to walk home alone, and I don’t want her knowing about this drug bust. So I tell Tucker I’ll be around in twenty minutes or so.
    Shelly hears that and looks disappointed. “What was that about?”
    “A thing at work. They can’t find some notes I made last night. I know where they are.”
    “Can we just stop there and then hang out more?”
    “Nah. I better get you home. This could take a while.”
    She’d been stroking my arm during the movie and leaning into my shoulder. I’m sure she was hoping for a repeat performance on a courthouse bench.
    Even if I was interested—and maybe I am—there’s no way I’d enjoy it with this thing hanging over my head.
    “Soon,” I say, and start walking. “I promise. We’ll hang out again real soon.”
    Let me say right here that I did make out with another girl once, the summer after sophomore year.
That
was great. But I feel relieved to be off the hook with Shelly for now.
    Sometimes I don’t like myself very much.
             
    I swipe my pass card and nod to the security guard, then walk up the stairs to the newsroom. I head straight for Tucker’s desk, where he’s talking on the phone and taking notes. He’s wearing a white shirt and a dark blue tie and has a cigarette behind his ear.
    I wait until he’s done talking; sounds like a report on a fire in Moosic. He hangs up and looks at me kind of questioningly.
    “What?” I say.
    “Your name came up.”
    I shake my head slowly. “About the school thing, you mean?”
    “Yep.”
    “Why?”
    “You’re on the list, man.”
    “What list?”
    “The list of alleged offenders. Michael Kerrigan, age eighteen.”
    I try not to swallow or look guilty, but I have to. “Why would I be on a list like that?” I ask.
    Tucker looks around and starts drumming on his desk with his fingers. He lowers his voice and waves me closer to him. “I could get in big-time trouble for telling you this. They said they found pot in your locker.