Me and Jordan wanted to go see Ghostbusters. Will and Mikey? They just tagged along because they could. Heck, I figured, why not? It’d be fun. The four of us were always together at school, hanging out because our parents worked late. You couldn’t exactly call us latchkey kids like our GenX parents were in the 1980s. It was my idea. Going on a Saturday before the 10 o’clock show would have fewer people in the theatre and more opportunities for us to goof off. And I was oblivious to it being prom night. I wasn’t a popular kid. And the dance? It’s a dance. I didn’t dance, therefore I would not be going. But Mikey? He got kicked out of the last dance for making out with Suzie Johnston, one of the soon-to-be cheerleaders. That was the rumor that he got caught doing something embarrassing with her that he shouldn’t have. Suzie? She never spoke to him again, nor did most of the cheerleaders. Mikey ducked the jocks for a few weeks, but a few of the guys wanted to know how he did what he did. A few girls wanted to know, too, not that Suzie ever talked about it. At least, to my knowledge, she never did.

From then on, if Mikey wanted a date, he could find a girl who wanted to see him. But Mr. Rick saw to it that Mikey was barred from prom. He was one of six or seven kids, the few troublemakers in our high school, who were uninvited from celebrating prom.

My best friend, Jordan, was a nerd, and he knew it. We all did. But there’s no real nice way to put that to your friend. Jordan was a fantastic standup comedian. Often all three of us were laughing so hard we nearly peed ourselves.

On the other hand, Will was a movie enthusiast, telling you about every actor in every film he watched, the titles of every song in the soundtrack, and the other movies each actor was in. Will’s Mom was a florist and his Dad? A truck driver. Will’s Mom made a point of being home when he came home from school. She grew up without a parent at home, her Mom working two jobs to keep the lights on, and she didn’t want Will to grow up like that. So Catherine was home before Will got off the bus. I thought my Mom was overprotective, but Will’s? If he wasn’t home three minutes after getting off the bus, Will would get a text message and a phone call. The thing about Will was that he’d never shut up, talking about whatever movie was in his purview then. Between Will and Jordan, me and Mikey wouldn’t be able to say a word.

As for me, my Mom and Dad worked, sure. But they were home roughly an hour after I got home from school. And let me tell you, if I wasn’t home when they arrived, I’d be in so much trouble! Dad believed punishments needed to fit the crimes; therefore, if I was late or not home when I was supposed to be, I would be grounded to the yard. That meant I couldn’t leave the house, call or Facetime my friends, and certainly couldn’t play Fortnite or any other video game. Social media? Not a chance! If I was grounded, so was my social life, what little of one I had. Everything got the pause button pressed, including social interactions with my three friends. That’s why this Saturday was so unusual. We got in trouble at various times, and most of the time, out of the four of us, I was in trouble more than they were. Did my parents care more and love me more, or did they watch the rest of my friends and decide they were better parents? Who knows. I sure the heck couldn’t figure them out and, honestly, didn’t want to!

Was it because I was the only kid in my friend’s group who went to church, followed Jesus, read my Bible, and prayed regularly? Or was it that Will, Jordan, and Mikey’s parents were rarely home? Whatever it was, this Saturday was extraordinary because we all could do what we liked together! We felt like inmates released from prison. We were free!

“Nicky! Nicky!” Jordan had a way of saying Nicky that didn’t offend me. Few people got away with calling me Nicky. Jordan was one of them. “Dude, are you ready to go to Ghostbusters?” He ran to my house, three houses from his, looking like a real psycho, arms and legs flailing everywhere, screaming the whole way. I hadn’t bought my tickets yet, waiting to see if Jordan could go.

“Um, no, you jerk. I told you,” I punched Jordan square in the shoulder, “I was waiting for you to tell me you got your ticket.” Jordan shrunk back from my punch, mouthing the word, ‘ouch,’ animating the pain as much as he could. I knew it didn’t hurt all that much, but Jordan made it look funny.

“Well,” he rubbed his shoulder, mouthing ‘ouch’ one more time before he continued, “Go tell your Mom that we’re going.”

“Yeah, dude. I don’t think you understand it works at my house. I don’t tell Mom what to do. I have to ask.”

“Then ask your Dad. He’s a pushover.” Jordan wasn’t wrong. Dad would say yes faster than Mom, but I also knew, as did my Mom, that she knew it too. So, this time, Dad would deflect back to Mom. The two of us walked into my house, Dad sitting in his recliner in the living room, drinking a cup of coffee. A bible sat on the end table next to a coaster. He was staring out the window, probably looking at the grass in the front yard. It’d been a week since the last time it was mowed, and I was doing my best to get out of having to do one more chore.

“Hey, Dad.” The words were barely out of my mouth.

“Go ask your Mother.” He put his coffee down, his eyes zeroed in on mine. I knew I wasn’t going to win this fight.

“Okay,” I said, starting to slink away, but he stopped me, pulled out a bill from his wallet, slapping a twenty in my fifteen-year-old hand. I smiled at the old man. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Don’t tell your Mother.” He winked at me. “And the grass?” He pointed out the front window.

“First thing tomorrow.” Dad smiled, and now I had money for popcorn and a drink! Probably not much more than that, but it was something.

My Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, working on the computer. She loved Pinterest ideas, pulling most of our dinner recipes from the various pins. I looked at the application once, maybe twice, but I hated it. Seemed like a dumb idea when you could just as quickly look up the ideas online. Maybe my GenX Mom knew something I didn’t.

Naw.

“Hey, Mom?” She was staring intently at her iPad screen. Blinking a few times, she took off her glasses. “Yes, Nicholas?” She saw Jordan trying to hide behind me. “Hi, Jordan. How’s your sister doing? Your Mom said she had a baby a few days ago.”

“Oh, I guess she’s okay. We’re going to see them in a few days. Mom said we needed to give her Roger a few days to get used to the new baby.”

“Well, you’ve got a cute little baby cousin.”
“I guess,” Jordan said, the tone of a bored teenager. We all had ‘the tone,’ the thing that set us apart as teenagers. A brooding, bored tone. ‘I couldn’t care less’ attitude resonated in our changing voices. Well, at least that was true for us men. Boys. My Mom called us boys.

“What are you boys up to today?”

“I’m going to see Ghostbusters at 6:15 tonight. Can Nicky come too?”

“Who’s paying for this little endeavor of yours, Nicholas?” Mom always called me by my full name. She said it sounded regal. And she named me, so she was going to wear it out!

“Um, you?” I asked. It was sort of a question but more of a statement. At least, that’s what I was shooting for.

“6:15 tonight, Nicholas?”

“Yes, please.”

“Yeah, that’s when I’ll be there.”

“Anyone else going with you?” Mom pulled out her purse, pulling up the website for the Marcus theatre.

“Just me and Jordan. Right?” Jordan nodded yes, backed up a little, standing right behind my Mom, and then mouthed, ‘NO.’ The truth was that Will and Mikey were planning on meeting us there. Mikey and Will hadn’t gained Mom’s trust back. They lost that with their last practical joke. Mom was cleaning confetti and whipped cream off most of the surfaces in her kitchen. Needless to say, she wasn’t pleased with either of them.

“I don’t like Michael or William, boys. They are both trouble. Nicholas, so help me, if you see those boys, you avoid them as if they have the COVID, you understand me?” She put her glasses on long enough to enter the credit card information for my ticket, then pulled them off and threw them down next to her iPad just to emphasize her point. Mom was a germaphobe, got all three vaccinations for COVID-19, and avoided people like they were all infected. Dad got it once, and she isolated herself from the rest of the family. She made Dad his food and dropped it off at the door to their bedroom, wearing her homemade Hazmat suit.

“Yes, Mom. I understand.”

She picked up her glasses. “Okay then. Jordan, is Bethany driving you boys to the movie?”

Jordan nodded yes. “Yeah, but only if Nicky went with me.”

Mom smiled at us both. “See there, Nicholas? A good boy like you and other parents notice.” My iPhone pinged the ticket details.

“Bye, Mom.”

“Have fun, boys. Nicholas, I expect you home before 9 o’clock, understand me?”

“Yes. I understand,” I said, running out of the house with Jordan.

Dreamlounger seats? Um, yes, please. And our tickets were bought online by our parents. Not that we cared where they were. Once we got to the theatre, we figured we’d sit wherever we wanted. Because we were kids! What the heck would the manager do to us? What COULD he or she do to us? Call the police? Right! In 2024? Are you for real? We could claim the manager threatened to beat us up, and then we’d win. At least, that’s what we thought. For real, we actually thought that.

Will and Mikey were there before us, waiting by the concession stand. Calm and patient, which was strange for either of them. But there they were, Mikey drinking his 32 oz Coke and Will chewing on a few Skittles.

“About time you losers get here,” Mikey said. “What took you so long? Nick, your Mom drive? Or was it yours, Jordan?”

“Knock it off, you guys,” Jordan said. “Let’s just go watch the freaking movie.”

“Yeah,” Will said, mimicking Jordan, “Let’s just go watch the freaking movie.” Will shook his head. “Mommy ain’t here. You afraid she’s gonna hear about your potty mouth?”

“I don’t have a potty mouth. You do.”

“Ooh. I’m scared now,” Will shot back.

“Hey.” I didn’t shout, but it was loud enough that the concession stand went silent. At least, I thought it did. “I want popcorn and Coke.” I looked at Will. “Go get our seats.” Then I eyed Mikey, “You go make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, okay?” I nodded at Jordan, meaning he needed to follow them. He got it, walking behind them like a dog that had his nose rubbed in his own poop. “I’ll be right there.” I got my popcorn and Coke, and my three friends were inside, starting to cause problems.

I must’ve missed a few trailers because the movie’s opening credits were rolling as I walked inside. I could hear the three of them cutting up in the back row. Mikey’s mouth would make a sailor blush – at least, that’s what I heard my Dad say about some of the words he heard Mikey use. He only took the four of us camping once. That was enough for him. The language was over the top. Not that I talked like that. At least not in front of my Dad!

They were louder than the movie, so I moved to the opposite end of the row, sitting next to a woman and her husband. Maybe her boyfriend. Nowadays, it’s hard to tell. They looked like they were together, and she looked annoyed with my friends. The other guy, he looked impatient, but not unreasonable. I thought about trying to get the three of them to cool it with the noise, but I didn’t do anything.

“Excuse me,” Mikey looked at both of them, standing between her and the movie. “You are in the wrong seats.” They both moved without saying a word, Mikey laughing. Will was laughing too, Jordan doing his best to stifle his laughter. I don’t know what happened next other than the couple sitting next to us walked out. They didn’t come back.

My friends continued to act up, making noise, clicking pictures on their phones, talking loudly to each other, and getting more than a few annoyed looks from an older dude at the end of the row. That’s when four police officers walked into the theatre. Mikey and Will knew then that they had blown it.

The movie stopped, the house lights came on, and the police whispered something to an official-looking theatre employee. I guessed correctly; it was the manager. I thought they couldn’t call the police.

The four police officers stood their ground. “I’m sorry, folks, for the interruption. You four.” He pointed at the four of us. “Come down here. Right now.” Mikey and Will were looking for a way out. There wasn’t one. The only exit door was at the front right of the auditorium. Getting arrested on my first day of freedom wasn’t how I wanted to spend my first Saturday with my friends. What would I tell my parents? I slinked down the stairs with Jordan, awaiting our fate. Mikey thought he could outrun the cops. Boy, was he wrong! I wasn’t going to try. He and Will jumped over the seats, making a beeline for the exit door. Two of the younger cops grabbed them both by the collars, putting them both in handcuffs. Me and Jordan were lucky. All they did was escort us out of the auditorium.

All four of us were taken home – it was barely 7 o’clock when we left the theatre. Word reached Mom and Dad before I did, the Cape Girardeau Police calling Mom. How they got her number, I’ll never figure out. Maybe from the credit card receipt? Backtracking it from her name? I don’t know. Will continued running his mouth, calling the cops every name he could think of. Nothing was off-limits, the older police officer taking charge of Will.

“He must’ve had kids like Will,” my Dad told me later.

“What makes you say that, Dad?”

Dad shrugged. “Parents that had rough childhoods or had tough kids develop patience for unruly behavior. I only have one question,” he said.

“Oh, I have more than a few questions for you, Nicholas Michael Andrew Smith,” Mom shouted, interrupting Dad.

“That’s enough,” he said softly to Mom. She stormed into the kitchen, leaving Dad and me at the dining room table. “You are a smart kid, Nick. Why didn’t you stand up to them and say anything to get them to stop?”

Mikey and Will spent three days in a juvenile detention center because they couldn’t reach their parents. Me and Jordan got off easy and turned back over to our parents. We can’t go back to Marcus Theatres, any of them, without a parent or legal guardian. I don’t want to be friends with Will or Mikey now.

If you were Nick, what would you do?