Charlotte

Valentine met his best friend Charlotte in his first year of high school. A sci-fi movie called The Cortex was making waves at the box office. It was rated R, which meant his aunt wouldn’t permit him to see it. She was open-minded in general, but very particular about her ward being exposed to violence. For example, it had taken six months of concentrated effort to get access to Super Morio Bros. First, because Aunt Gerry thought even that game was too violent (“What did those poor turtles ever do to anyone?”), and second because Valentine had needed to save up money to buy a Funtendo game console.

On a rainy Friday in early April, Valentine decided to cut school early and go watch the movie. When he got to the theater, he encountered a group of older goths going to see the same movie. This fortunate coincidence, combined with the indifference of the employees, enabled him to spend all his money on popcorn, candy, and soda and sneak in with the group when they turned in their tickets.

Valentine followed the goths into theater one, feeling extremely pleased with himself. Unfortunately, the older kids were quick to claim the back row, which was his usual spot, so he was stuck considering where to sit in an already crowded theater. He hovered in the aisle, feeling self-conscious, awkwardly juggling his paper cup of Popsi, an extra large popcorn, a box of Sour Batch Children, and some Senior Mints. It felt a little bit like being picked last in gym class by one of those horrible sporty kids who didn’t want a loser on his team.

“You wanna sit here?” The speaker had a melodious voice that broke neatly through his mortified reverie.

He spotted a tiny girl sitting at the end of a nearby row. There was an open seat between her and the next group of patrons. Valentine nodded in relief, glad to be put out of his misery. The girl reached out her hands.

“I’ll hold the popcorn,” she said.

Valentine handed her the bag. As he got himself settled, he caught her shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“Hey!”

She finished chewing. “That was a toll for your passage into my realm.”

Valentine didn’t quite know what to make of that. The girl was wearing a sunflower-printed jean vest and smart green trousers, her black hair pulled into a neat ponytail. He hadn’t expected to see such a normal-looking person at this kind of movie. He took the popcorn back before she could eat more, and then immediately felt bad.

“Here.” He tucked the bag next to him on the seat, so she would have easy access. “Help yourself.”

“I’m thirsty. Can I have some soda?”

Valentine couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “Really?”

“Is that Valley Dew or Popsi?”

“What if I told you I mixed them together?”

“Then I’d ask you to marry me.”

Valentine laughed. “You’re weird.”

“You’re the one who looks like that goth guy from The Starling.”

The comparison was so flattering that Valentine nearly dropped his soda in her lap. He offered her the cup.

“It’s Popsi,” he said. “Drink it all, I don’t care. Do you really think I look like him?”

The girl was too busy drinking to answer right away. She smacked her lips in satisfaction and gave him an assessing glance.

“Let’s see. Greasy black hair, check. Smudged eyeliner, check. All black clothing, check. So yeah. You look exactly like him.”

Valentine wanted to cry. He knew he was a boy, of course, but the world certainly didn’t understand. It had even taken Aunt Gerry a while to wrap her head around it. Maybe this girl ultimately wouldn’t understand, either, but at least she had seen him for who he really was in this moment. That had never happened to him before. He blinked back the tears and offered her some Sour Batch Children.

“I’m Valentine. Want some candy?”

“Hell yes,” the girl said, taking a handful. “The name’s Charlotte. I wish we went to school together. Everyone I know is boring. All they care about is makeup and boys.”

Valentine smirked. “Sorry, but that’s technically all I care about, too.”

Charlotte burped loudly, and Valentine couldn’t help but giggle as it seemed half of the theater turned to glare at her.

“Excuse me,” Charlotte said, though she didn’t sound very apologetic.

“It’s not Halloween anymore, you freak.” This came from the surly kid sitting in front of them. His friend laughed derisively at his comment.

Valentine flinched, but the reaction was internal. He’d learned by now how to hide it. His new friend, however, launched herself out of her seat.

“You better take that back before I kick you into next week!” she shouted, getting into the kid’s face.

The teenager sneered. “I’d like to see you try.”

Without hesitation, Charlotte popped him right in the nose.

“Ow!” The kid reared back, blood spurting everywhere.

“Charlotte!” Valentine yelled.

“Hey, you!” the adult next to him yelled.

“I’m gonna kill you!” the other teenager yelled.

“Run!” Charlotte yelled, grabbing Valentine’s arm and pulling him into the aisle. Popcorn spilled everywhere. She threw Valentine’s soda at the next person that lunged for them. Valentine managed to hold onto his Sour Batch Children, but the Senior Mints got trampled underfoot as they charged toward the exit.

“This way!” Charlotte burst through the doors of the theater, tugging Valentine around the corner and down a seedy-looking corridor.

They were fast approaching an exit marked “Emergency Exit Only.” Charlotte didn’t even hesitate before throwing herself bodily against the doors. An alarm blared as they tripped onto the street. Valentine looked over his shoulder. Nobody had chased them this far, but nevertheless, he was sure at least one adult had reported them. Charlotte kept dragging him along for three more unpleasant blocks until she finally permitted them to stop running.

“I hate you,” he said, between great heaving breaths. “I hate running.”

“Sorry. I don’t like people making fun of my friends.”

“I saved up for three weeks to watch that movie.”

Charlotte sighed, patting his arm. “Tell you what. If we go to the bodega on the corner, I’ll get you some ice cream.”

Valentine pouted, but relented when he realized that he’d never had a friend stand up for him before. As he devoured his chocolate eclair crunch bar on the sidewalk, listening to Charlotte make a plan to sneak into a different theater, he decided that he wanted to spend as much time with this crazy kid as he could.

Twenty years later, despite two spectacularly dramatic fights, they were still best friends. The only thing was that Charlotte lived on the other side of the country now, so Valentine didn’t get to see her as often. She was always just a phone call away, but a real hug had become an expensive undertaking. He missed her, even though she could be overbearing. The way she had always told the story of their meeting, you would think she was a mother hen adopting a baby crow who had lost his way. Valentine liked being cared for, but not when it involved Charlotte being nosy and trying to butt into something that he wasn’t ready to share.

Case in point, the time she’d purposely video called him in the middle of anime club, just so she could introduce herself to his new friends. She’d even managed to wrest contact information out of his coworker, Jonny, which meant there was a constant stream of gossip he had no control over running behind his back.

Here, now, was a new text from her.

Valley, I heard about Lalo. He sounds really cute!

So annoying. He knew he shouldn’t have told Jonny about Lalo. Why couldn’t he be left in peace? It was his day off, he’d planned to binge watch some anime and do his best to avoid anything that resembled being a responsible human being. His phone rang and he rejected the call, firing off a text message right after.

Charlotte, I’m dead. Pls leave a message after the beep.

That’s not funny, Valentine. What if you’d really died?

Then that would prove that technology can be manipulated by spirits.

It would be the worst day of my life.

Valentine felt bad about being so dramatic. Sorry. I don’t know what Jonny told you, but he’s just a random customer, okay? If anything changes, you’ll be the first one to know.

He put his phone down on his nightstand and flopped back down on the bed, squeezing his eyes shut. He was reminded of when Charlotte used to make him leave the house to get some vitamin D. Sunlight was the bane of his existence, and such undertakings were absolutely unnecessary and extremely unpleasant. That’s what multi-vitamin tablets were for. He was fine as he was. He’d always been fine as he was, and he always would be.