Free Only in the Movies by William Bell Page B

to makeit better—and which today, after my whirlwind effort to slam together a half-baked story, made me feel guilty. In a gentle manner, as we groaned in protest, she pushed us to revise and then revise again. I sometimes imagined what kind of conversations she and Locheed had in the staff room—if they talked at all. You could hand Locheed a verse from the Qur’an or the Bible and he’d find something to sneer about.
    “Ah,” Cleaver said. “Jake’s latest foray into hard-boiled crime fiction.” She took the sheaf of freshly printed pages in her tiny hand and added it to her stack. “Whodunnit?”
    “You’ll have to read it. I think it’s a prize-winner,” I joked. “I’m expecting a call any minute.”
    Her smile grew wider. “Let me know as soon as you hear anything. I’ll wait by the phone.”
    “See you tomorrow,” I said, turning toward the door at the far end of the library just in time to see Alba come in. Today, her honey-coloured hair was pulled back into a ponytail secured with a dark blue ribbon. She wore a tight, rose-coloured sweater over navy cargo pants and pink leather sandals. Alba was the only girl in the school whose clothing I could remember at the end of the day.
    When we saw each other in class or in the halls, she never referred to my letters or our meeting at the bridge. I didn’t know if I was making any headway with her or not. I didn’t know if she liked guys or not. So I continued to be positive, taking her lack of response to be one notch better than rejection. I hung my hopes on that one notch.
    She stood beside the library door like a work of art set down in the middle of an auto-repair shop and scanned the room as I stared at her, holding my breath. Her eyes metmine and she smiled. I felt the heat rise into my neck and face as she came forward.
    “Jake,” she began breathily, “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
    Her perfume, as usual, made me dizzy. Her nearness paralyzed my tongue. “Oh,” I managed to blurt.
    “I need to talk to you. It’s really, really important. And private,” she added mysteriously, looking around to see if she had been overheard.
    “Okay,” I replied. “What’s it about?”
    “Not here. Can you meet me after rehearsal today?”
    Can the sun find the energy to rise tomorrow morning? I wanted to ask. Does the grass bend when the wind blows?
    “Sure,” I said. “Where?”
    “At the bridge. We’ll be alone there.”
    “Great.”
    “See you then.” And with that, she hurried away, leaving a trail of scent that would melt the heart of a warlock.

SCREENPLAY: “THE SECRET LOVERS”
by
JAKE BLANCHARD
    FADE IN:
    EXT. THE BRIDGE OVER THE HUMBOLT RIVER—DAY—HIGH SUMMER
The afternoon sun bathes the trees with gold. A gentle breeze stirs the leaves. Butterflies flutter. Birds sing. The brook burbles beneath the bridge.
    JAKE stands in the middle of the bridge, lost in thought, elbows on the wooden railing, his manly, chiselled profile lit by the sun.
    SOUND of footsteps on the planking. JAKE turns to see ALBA running toward him. They embrace. JAKE kisses ALBA’s hair, her face, her lips.
    ALBA
Darling! I thought the day would never end.
    JAKE
No matter, my love. We’re together now.
That’s all that—

CHAPTER FIVE
    “G OD ! I THOUGHT P ANOFSKY would never shut up. He explains things in detail, then explains them all over again. In more detail. He thinks we’re deaf, or stupid, or I don’t know what.”
    I had gone to the bridge in lots of time to meet Alba. Too much time. I had been waiting since school got out, even though I knew her rehearsal would take an hour and a half at least. It was a sunny afternoon, with a light breeze. I was sitting at the edge of the river where I had stood not many days before, repeating Vanni’s lines to Alba. I was tossing stones into the riffle and daydreaming a torrid movie scene.
    When I heard Alba’s voice I hurriedly climbed back up the bank and stepped onto the bridge, painfully