At nightfall, people started showing up for the evening movies, and Troy got into a fight with Mark about refilling his popcorn. ‘It says, “Endless refills same day only,”’ Troy said.
‘You’re perverting the intent,’ Mark said.
Elena kept hoping that some of the people walking towards the theater were there to join the line—there were two thirty-something guys in Star Wars shirts who looked like good candidates, and a few college girls who looked nerdy enough—but they all walked right by.
Elena had stripped down to her Princess Leia T-shirt, but now that the sun was gone, she started reapplying her layers.
Maybe her mom was right. Maybe Elena should leave and come back when the line really got going . . .
What would Troy say? ‘There was an Asian girl who hung out with us for a few hours; then her mom made her leave.’
No, this was it. If Elena bailed, she couldn’t come back.
She wrapped herself in her sleeping bag and pulled on a woolen hat with a big red pompom, taking a few more years off her appearance.
The fight with Mark seemed to leave Troy in a funk. He put in earplugs and watched Netflix on his phone. Elena watched him hungrily—she was dying to use her phone. Her whole world was in there. Sitting outside in the cold and dark would be so much more bearable if she could read fanfiction or text her friends. But she only had one back-up battery pack to last four days . . . At least it was still bright enough to read. She was sitting just below a lit up Star Wars poster.
Her mom pulled up in front of the theater again at ten. Elena got up and walked to the car.
‘I don’t like this,’ her mom said. ‘People are going to think you’re homeless.’
‘No one will think that.’
‘Homeless people are going to bother you.’
‘Probably not.’
‘I talked to Dì Janet and she says you can buy your movie ticket online.’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘It’s just that—’ Her mom rubbed her temple. ‘Elena, I think this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done in your life.’
‘That’s a good thing, Mom. Think about how much worse it could be.’
Her mom frowned and handed her a warm covered dish. ‘You answer your texts tonight.’
‘I will.’
Elena stepped away from the car.
‘Don’t worry about her!’ Troy shouted from behind her. ‘She’s in good hands!’
Elena’s mom looked aghast. But she still drove away.
‘I’m sorry,’ Troy said. ‘Did I make that worse? I meant the hands of the line.’
‘It’s OK,’ Elena said, finding her spot against the wall.
Mark the theater manager came out one more time to give them a last call for the bathroom and concessions, which was pretty decent of him.
Troy was asleep by eleven, stretched out on his chair with an inflatable pillow wedged between him and the wall. He’d wrapped himself in fleece blankets, tipped his head back, and that was it.
Elena had planned to roll out her sleeping bag and sleep lying down. But that was back when she’d imagined a few dozen campers. It was different with just three people, and she felt too exposed at the end of the line. If she fell asleep lying down, someone could just drag her away in the night, and Troy and Gabe would never notice.
She didn’t think she was afraid of Troy and Gabe themselves. Troy hadn’t said anything pervy yet. Not even about Princess Leia. And Gabe seemed painstakingly uninterested in Elena.
Her mom didn’t trust them, but her mom didn’t trust any guys. She used to just have it in for white guys. (‘White guys are the worst. They rap 2 Live Crew lyrics at you and expect you to laugh.’) But ever since she and Elena’s dad had separated four years ago, her mom had taken a stand against any and every man, especially where Elena was concerned. ‘Learn from my mistakes,’ she said.
Learn what? Elena wondered. Avoid men? Avoid love? Avoid radiologists who buy movie-replica lightsabers?
Usually when her mom gave her warnings like this, Elena would just give her a thumbs up. Like, No prob, Bob.
Because it really wasn’t a problem. Avoid men? Done! This had literally never been an issue for her. When other girls complained about how to deal with unwanted male attention, Elena wouldn’t feel jealous exactly, but she would feel curious—how does one go about attracting such attention? And is it impossible to attract just some of it? Just a small, manageable amount? Or was attention from boys all or nothing, like a tap that, once you’d found it, you could never turn off?
Elena’s teeth were starting to chatter, and it wasn’t even that cold out. But the cold of the ground had crept through her sleeping bag, through her jeans, through her long underwear and tights, and settled into her bones.
‘You’ve gotta put something under your sleeping bag,’ Gabe said. ‘Or get off the ground.’
She looked where his butt must be. He lifted the side of his sleeping bag up. He was sitting on cardboard, two or three pieces.
‘Does that work?’ she asked.
‘It helps,’ he said.
‘Well, I don’t have a spare box on me . . .’
Gabe sighed. ’Hold my spot.’
He got up and shuffled out of his sleeping bag, walking down the street and disappearing behind the building. When he came back, he was carrying a few cardboard boxes. Raisinets. Sour Patch Kids.
‘You take mine,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Move up, unless you don’t want to sit between us. Troy’s an excellent windbreak.’
Elena shuffled over to Gabe’s pile of boxes, pulling her things with her. Gabe quickly made himself a new nest and settled down again.
‘It does help,’ Elena said. ‘Thanks.’
She tested her instincts, to see if she felt any less safe sitting between these two strangers than on the end. No. She felt about the same. ‘You just want me to have to listen to Troy’s stories,’ she whispered.
‘We can switch back in the morning,’ he said.
‘Do you know him?’ she asked. ‘Troy?’
‘I didn’t know him before,’ Gabe said, ‘but I have been sitting next to him for four days . . .’
Gabe picked up his book.
‘Thanks,’ Elena said again.
Gabe didn’t answer.
Tuesday 15 December 2015
It didn’t seem like Elena had slept, but she must have. She woke up slumped over her backpack with a patch of cold saliva on her chin.
‘Star Wars!’ someone was shouting from a car driving by.
‘Star Wars!’ Troy shouted back, raising his fist.
Yes, Elena thought, Star Wars. That’s what this experience needed: more Star Wars.
Elena was going to rally.
So this wasn’t the jubilant, communal, public display of affection she’d been expecting—it could still be something. It could still be memorable. She’d make it memorable.
‘What does the Code of the Line say about going to Starbucks?’ she asked.
Troy answered: ‘Totally acceptable as long as you bring back some for us.’
Elena walked the six blocks to Starbucks and hung out in the bathroom for a while, painting little Yodas on her cheeks. She had the Starbucks barista write character names on their cups. Troy was Admiral Ackbar, Gabe was General Dodonna, and Elena was Mon Mothma.
When she got back to the line, she took out her phone and carefully took a selfie of herself with the guys behind her. Gabe wouldn’t look at the camera, but Troy played along. ‘Third in line!’ Elena posted on Instagram. Which sounded much better than ‘Last in Line!‘
‘I dig your face paint,’ Troy said. ‘I’ve got a costume, but I’m saving it for opening night.’
‘Do you always wear a costume on opening night?’ Elena asked.
‘Oh yeah. Usually I camp in it.’
‘I want to hear about your costumes,’ Elena said.
‘You mean opening-night costumes? O
r all my Star Wars costumes, including Halloween and May the Fourth parties?’
‘We want to hear about all of them,’ she said, glancing over at Gabe. ‘Right?’
Gabe was looking at her like she was out of her mind.
After they got through Troy’s costumes, Elena quizzed him about highs and lows from past lines. Then she suggested they play Star Wars trivia, which she quickly realized wasn’t a good idea, because she couldn’t answer any questions about the prequels, and she didn’t want Troy and Gabe to guess that she hadn’t actually seen them.
Elena could have seen them by now. She could have watched all three prequels after her dad moved to Florida—but it still felt like she’d be betraying him. And even though her dad had betrayed her by leaving, she didn’t feel like watching Star Wars movies just to spite him. That seemed like it really would corrupt her love for Star Wars. ‘A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense, never for attack.’ (Yoda.)
Elena’s mom drove by a few times that morning. Elena just waved and tried to look like she was having the time of her life.
Nobody new got in line.
The highlight of Tuesday afternoon was when a photographer from the newspaper came by to take their picture.
‘I’m looking for the Star Wars line,’ he said. He had an oversized camera with a long black lens.
‘That’s us!’ Troy said.
‘Oh.’ He squinted at them. ‘I thought there was supposed to be a real line, like with people in costume.’
‘Come back on opening night,’ Troy said. ‘My Poe Dameron will knock your socks off.’
The photographer looked at Elena’s cheeks. ‘Is that Shrek?’
‘It’s Yoda,’ Gabe snapped. ‘For Christ’s sake.’
In the end, the photographer shot a close-up of Troy holding a photo of himself waiting in a much more interesting line fifteen years ago.
It was a humiliating setback for them as individuals and for the line as a whole.
(Ugh. They weren’t a line. They were just three cold nerds.) (They were three suckers who showed up for a party that didn’t exist.) (They were statistically insignificant!)
After the photographer left, Elena didn’t start another cheerful conversation. Gabe excused himself to walk around the block. Troy watched TV on his phone.
Elena took out her phone just long enough to take a photo of her flowered sneakers. ‘My legs are permanently asleep,’ she posted. ‘#LineProblems.’ Then she immediately put her phone away, before she could start wandering around online and enjoying herself.
When Gabe came back he was frowning more than Elena had ever seen a human being frown. Even her mother. It was the longest afternoon of her life.
By Tuesday evening, deep malaise had set in. Luke-staring-into-both-suns-of-Tatooine malaise.
Elena hid her face whenever movie-goers walked by. She only perked up when her mom came by around ten. Gotta keep up appearances.
When Elena stood up to go to the car, her whole body felt numb with cold and disuse. Her mom shoved a hot-water bottle out the window. ‘Here.’
It was so hot that Elena dropped it. ‘Thanks,’ she said, picking it up.
‘I don’t think George Lucas would want you to do this,’ her mom said.
‘I didn’t know you knew who George Lucas was.’
‘Please. I was watching Star Wars movies before you were born. Your dad and I saw Empire Strikes Back five times in the theater.’
‘Lucky,’ Elena said.
‘George Lucas is a father of daughters,’ her mother said. ‘He wouldn’t want young girls freezing to death to prove their loyalty.’
‘This isn’t about George Lucas,’ Elena said. ‘He isn’t even that involved in the sequels.’
‘Come home,’ her mom said. ‘We’ll watch Empire Strikes Back and I’ll make hot cocoa.’
‘I can’t,’ Elena said. ‘I’ll lose my place in line.’
‘I think it will still be there for you in the morning.’
‘Goodnight, Mom.’
Her mom sighed and held out a venti Starbucks cup. ‘Stay warm. I’ll leave my ringer on tonight in case you change your mind.’
Elena sat down with her coffee and tucked the hot-water bottle into her sleeping bag. It felt amazing.
‘Call your Mom,’ Gabe said flatly. ‘I want to watch Empire Strikes Back and drink hot cocoa.’
She realized now that the coffee was a set-up.
It was two in the morning, and Elena was going to wet her pants. She looked up the line. Troy was wrapped in sleeping bags and a polar fleece, like a mummy. Gabe had pulled his knees up and tucked his head down a few hours ago.
Elena had been sleeping. Badly. She felt groggy and out of sorts and her bladder actually hurt. She kept fidgeting. Gabe lifted his head. ‘What’s wrong? Are you cold?’
‘No,’ Elena said. ‘I mean, yes, of course. But no—I’m going to wet my pants.’
‘Don’t do that,’ Gabe said.
‘I can’t help it. What am I supposed to do?’
‘Go pee somewhere.’
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know. Behind a car or something.’
‘That’s illegal!’ Elena said. ‘And gross!’
‘Not as gross as peeing your pants.’
Elena closed her eyes. ‘Ughhhhhhhhhhh. Where have you guys been peeing?’
‘Inside the theater,’ he said.
‘Don’t you ever have to go at night?’
He shrugged. ‘No.’
Elena felt tears rolling down her cheeks.
‘Don’t cry,’ Gabe said. ‘That won’t help.’
She kept crying. It was going to happen soon.
‘OK,’ he said, standing up. ‘Come on.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘To let you pee.’
‘We can’t leave without telling Troy,’ she said. ‘Code of the Line.’
‘The Code of the Line also includes not soiling it. Come on.’
Troy had an extra-large Coke cup, and Gabe grabbed it. Elena got up, carefully, and followed him around to the back of the theater.
‘OK,’ he said, holding out the cup. ‘You go behind the dumpster, pee in this cup, then put it in the dumpster.’
‘What if there are cameras?’ Elena said, taking the cup.
‘I can’t help you there. This isn’t Mission: Impossible, you know?’
‘But what if I need to pee more than this? I don’t know how much I pee.’
‘If your bladder held more than forty-four ounces, you wouldn’t have to go to the bathroom constantly.’
She stood there, biting her lip.
‘Elena.’
‘Yeah?’
‘You don’t have any other options here. Pee in the cup.’
‘Right,’ she said. She walked, carefully, to the other side of the dumpster. ‘I don’t want you to listen!’
‘Is this the first time you’ve peed around another human being?’
‘Around a guy,’ she shouted, ‘yes!’
‘I didn’t ask for this!’ Gabe shouted back. He started humming loudly—’The Imperial March’. It made Elena feel like her mom was coming.
She carefully peeled down her layers and hovered over the cup, trying not to touch it, and trying not to splash, still sort of crying. Gabe kept up the loud humming. When Elena was done, she put the lid on the cup and walked out. ‘OK,’ she said.
‘Gross. You were supposed to throw it away.’
‘I’m going to pour it down a storm drain! So it doesn’t spill on anyone.’
‘Whatever,’ Gabe said.
When she’d disposed of the pee, and the cup, she sat back down next to him and dug in her bag for a wet wipe.
‘I should just go home,’ she said, scrubbing her hands.
‘Do you have to pee again?’
‘No.’
‘Then why do you want to go home?’
‘Well, obviously I’m not prepared for this!’ She waved her arm aroun
d, encompassing the cold, the line, the trash can, the storm drain . . . ‘And it isn’t how I thought it was going to be.’
‘How’d you think it was going to be?’ Gabe asked.
‘I don’t know—fun.’
‘You’re camping on a sidewalk with strangers. Why would that be fun?’
‘It always looks fun. In the pictures. Like, tent cities. And people meeting in line and making friends for life. Getting matching tattoos.’
‘You want to get a matching tattoo with Troy?’
‘You know what I mean.’ She threw her wadded-up wet wipe on to the ground. ‘I thought it was going to be a celebration, like a way to be really excited about Star Wars with a bunch of other people who are really excited about Star Wars. Like in Troy’s stories. Like the time they all camped out for two weeks to see Return of the Jedi and ended up with soulmates and nicknames. The practical jokes that went on for days! The lightsaber battles!’
‘You could still end up with a nickname,’ Gabe said. ‘Right now I’m thinking something to do with pee. Or cups.’
Elena wrapped her sleeping bag tighter.
‘Good Old Pees-in-a-Cup,’ Gabe said.
‘Why are you here?’ she asked. ‘If you knew it was going to be miserable.’
‘I’m here because I love Star Wars,’ he said. ‘Same as you.’ He folded his arms on his knees and tucked his head down.
‘But you don’t even talk to me,’ Elena said. ‘To either of us.’
Gabe made a sarcastic noise, like hrmph.
‘No, seriously,’ she said. ‘What’s the point of getting in this line if you don’t want to experience it with other people?’
‘Maybe I just don’t want to experience it with you,’ he said. ‘Have you thought of that?’
‘Oh my God.’ She scrunched up her face. ‘No. I haven’t thought of that. Is that true? Why are you so mean?’
‘It’s not true,’ he grumbled, lifting his head. ‘I’m just tired. And I’m not—a people person. Sorry I’m not meeting your Star Wars dream line expectations.’
‘Me, too.’ She rubbed her hands together and blew in them.