24
Sarabeth had never been much of a mall person.
Maybe it was because she never had anyone to go with, but any time she actually needed to go to the mall for something, she ran the errand like she was a contestant in the Hunger Games—moving fast and praying for her survival.
She’d once made the mistake of believing the mall was a place where a person could just shop. Last year, on a kick for new kitchen supplies, she’d been eager to peruse Sur La Table and Williams-Sonoma one Saturday afternoon. After picking up a few things, she’d gone for a snack in the food court. She picked a table where she could sip her cappuccino, nibble on her croissant, and read the newest issue of Bon Appétit. But Orland Ridge Mall was no Parisian café, where a woman dining alone was almost a cliché. She’d barely gotten through the Letters to the Editor when she felt eyes on her. Every table around her contained a cluster of girls her age who apparently thought she was some new, highly undesirable species. Teena and her friends made up one of the clusters. The other tables weren’t even girls she knew from Ermer, but apparently her solo shopping excursion had egregiously broken some girl code. They’d looked at her and looked away, as if afraid that eye contact would freeze them into stone social pariahs.
After that day, she got it. Orland Ridge Mall wasn’t a place where people—at least people her age, who were supposed to be living the best years of their lives—just shopped. They hung. And to hang, you needed a group, which Sarabeth had never had.
But now, walking through the parking lot of Orland Ridge—empty save for errant plastic bags and crushed Big Gulp cups that blew across the asphalt—it occurred to her that she did have a group.
A group that had just maneuvered its way past an actual perimeter of outer-space thugs using some of the worst beauty products ever invented.
Her life was officially too weird for its own good.
Teena yanked on the handle of the glass doors like she owned Orland Ridge Mall. Which, in a way, she did.
“It’s locked, dammit,” she said. Then, despite her bad leg and the fact that she couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and ten pounds, Teena hefted up one of the three-foot cylindrical stone ashtrays outside the entry doors. With a determined look in her eye, she positioned herself with the ashtray like a battering ram, ready to drive it though the locked glass doors.
Leo stepped between the ashtray and the glass. “Wait, don’t do that,” he said, pulling a key ring from his pocket. “I have the key.”
Teena scowled at him, the kind of cute scowl that guys liked and Sarabeth would never manage, no matter how many alien attacks she survived. “You could have said something,” she said, putting down the ashtray with a thud. “I have to pee.”
“Keep your pants on,” Leo said. He pulled the keys off his belt loop and casually opened the door to the mall, as if every teenager had mall keys. Sarabeth’s insides puffed up like a blowfish. A tingly blowfish. Leo, Mr. Rulebreaker, was trusted with keys to the mall.
Very adorable, Sarabeth decided. She just wished that “being Sarabeth” also meant knowing what to do when you liked a guy for the first time. The locks clicked open.
Leo breathed in deeply. “Ah,” he said. “Mall sweet mall.”
He held the door open for them, pointing down various corridors like a tour guide. “Bathrooms, down there. Movie theaters, that way. Bubbling water sculpture, straight ahead.”
As Sarabeth stepped inside, she was startled by how still and quiet everything was. The kiosks where salespeople chased you with flat irons and greasy hand lotions slept like hulking, motionless buffalo. The stores, with their grated gates locked tight, looked like deserted, heavily merchandised jail cells. In the dusk, the small potted birch trees that ran down the center of each wing became skeletal sculptures from a Tim Burton movie. Rays of moonlight flowed in from the overhead skylights, bathing everything in a dark blue wash. It wasn’t too dark to see, but it wasn’t light enough to make their haven feel a hundred percent safe.
“I think we should stay together,” Sarabeth said, catching Leo’s eyes. His tangle of hair was more of a mess than ever, and she could tell he was as tired as she was, but the smile he flashed gave her a burst of energy that started at her heart and worked its way out.
“I think so, too,” Leo said, just to her. A little connection fizzed between them. She knew that the little glances and touches, and the flirtation, and the teddy bear might have been part of some Leo scheme to have a little fun with her. But she really felt something real was happening here. And if she was wrong, and this wasn’t the real thing for him, it was real for her, and she wanted to act on it.
Sarabeth pictured the world being normal again and bringing Leo home as her date. Cameron probably would give her the thumbs-up, but Cameron liked everyone. Her mom, not so much. But if Leo was a hero and not just a pizza-delivery boy, maybe even Olivia Lewis could forgive his unkempt, shaggy hair and marijuana habit.
“So, we’re going to sleep here?” Evan asked, making his way to the water feature and splashing his face.
“Yeah, for a little while. We need to fortify our operation,” Leo said, rubbing a palm of cool water along the back of his neck. “I thought we’d make our way to Bed Bath & Beyond, to enjoy the beds and beyond. Sorry, ladies, but the showers are fakes.”
“Honestly, Leo, if they’re still out there, we should be moving as fast as we can. Otherwise, it’s like we took out the perimeter for nothing,” Teena said, splashing her own face with the fountain’s water. She wrinkled her nose. “Chlorine, how refreshing.”
“Look, we need weapons, and we need food, and we need a plan. A little rest wouldn’t hurt, either. The mall has everything, including places to hide,” Leo countered. “And it’s like home turf for us. We need this.”
“I agree we need some supplies. But how can we get what we need when all the gates are locked?” Evan said, scanning the storefronts, his eyes tired.
Leo shook his head and jangled his keys proudly. “There are back entrances to all the stores,” he said. “And I have a master key. Phil may be a scumbag, but he’s got connections. Actually, he probably has connections because he’s a scumbag.”
Evan got to his feet and slapped Leo on the back appreciatively. “A nap in a real bed will feel good after today.” He grabbed his baseball bat and started to head down the corridor toward Bed Bath & Beyond.
“Okay, fine. And maybe we can crack open one of those giant popcorn buckets by the registers,” Teena said, stretching her back. “I’m fucking starving.” She hoisted her Uzi on one shoulder and started to follow Evan and Leo. Sarabeth didn’t move.
It wasn’t even eight o’clock. Sarabeth was tired, but she didn’t want to sleep, not yet. How often would they have the mall to themselves for a whole night, with no worries that anyone would catch or stop them? If it was their last night on Earth, why not make it count?
“We’re not going to make camp already, are we?” Sarabeth asked. “I mean, we have the full run of the mall with someone who has the keys. When does that happen in real life?” She gestured expansively, as if they were about to spend the night at Versailles, or the Metropolitan Museum of Art, like in From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.
The grayed-out signs for the As Seen On TV store, the Vitamin Shoppe, and Baby Gap weren’t necessarily deserving of Sarabeth’s prize-showcase hand gestures. But so what if it was no hall of mirrors? They all might be decorating some alien’s mantel come Monday. They needed to take what they could get.
“Sarabeth’s right,” Leo said. “We might be dead tomorrow.”
Sarabeth bit back the goofy grin that threatened to appear on her face. Who wanted to think about tomorrow when she had Leo Starnick tonight?
As her heart beat rapidly in her chest, she realized something.
Crushes were fun.
You might think making the night matter means that someone—ahem, Sarabeth—is about to lose her virginity. But this isn’t prom. And while it’s certainly a good way to spend a possible last night on Earth, giving up your V-card isn’t something you want to do in the bedding department of J.C. Penney. Or maybe you do. No judgment. But having the run of a whole mall is much more of a one-of-a-kind experience than some clumsy fumbling in the dark.
You don’t need nitty-gritty details. Just think, what would you do if someone gave you and a couple semi-strangers keys to the mall for one evening? Mind you, the power’s out, so you’d have to make do with what’s available.
Would you go to Macy’s and try on the most outlandish formalwear, while blasting a gimmicky CD of early nineties dance music on a battery-operated boom box? Sure.
Would you hit up the bulk candy store and not use the sanitized silver scoops, but instead hand-sample every gummy confection available?
Would you hold races from one end of the mall to the other on roller skates, scooters, skateboards, and mountain bikes you pilfered from the sporting goods store?
Would you raid the fridge at Subway and make the biggest sandwich you’ve ever made and eat the whole thing? Only to follow it shortly with a raw cookie-dough chaser from Mrs. Fields?
It might sound like a movie montage, but when you have to pack a lot of life into a little time, the montage is your only option. And you best enjoy it while it lasts, because what comes next is never easy.