Only in the Movies by William Bell Read Free Book Online Page B

peered up into my face. Pinched my chin betweenthumb and forefinger. Turned my head from side to side.
    “Hmm,” she said.
    “Hmm what?”
    “You can’t even see the scars.”
    “Very funny,” I said.
    Vanni grabbed me by the arm. “Come on. We need to find a quieter location.”
    She led me out of the school and across the road to a joint called the Blue Note. By night it was a jazz and R & B club with a seedy reputation. Instant played there sometimes when one of the bands needed a saxophonist. By day it was a rundown restaurant that specialized in trendy vegetarian concoctions whose descriptions on the dusty menu were more than enough to put me off—salads featuring seeds, sprouts and roots; soups heavy on beans and spices with unpronounceable names; and vaguely Asian treats like oily spring rolls, samosas and flatbreads.
    There were only a few customers about, hunched over their tables as if guarding their food. Vanni tugged me toward a table by the window. The server was a skinny, surly-looking guy with a paper chef’s hat that didn’t quite hide his oily black hair.
    “Yeah?” he greeted us, flipping pages on his order pad.
    Vanni asked for a samosa with tamarind chutney and a cup of chai.
    “What about you?” the server demanded, scratching his neck with the butt-end of his pencil.
    “Chips with beef gravy and a cherry cola,” I said. “A side order of deep-fried pork rinds.”
    “Not on the menu,” the guy replied, looking above my head through the greasy window.
    “Okay. Let’s see … a dozen buffalo wings, extra hot. Hold the mayo.”
    This time he just shook his head. Vanni gave me a look. I relented.
    “Double-shot cappuccino and a piece of chocolate cake. Baked sometime this century.”
    He nodded, made a note and wandered off.
    “Guess what?” Vanni began, almost gushing.
    By now I had returned to the real world after my encounter with the luscious girl with the beautiful name, so I noticed that Vanni’s face glowed with excitement. Her dark eyes danced. Her grin was a mile wide under her overdeveloped nose.
    “You really want me to guess?” I asked.
    “No. I want to tell you, but first you have to swear to keep this a secret.”
    I raised my hand. “Girl Guide’s honour,” I intoned solemnly. “May my head be severed from my body with a rusty axe if I breathe a word. May my teeth fall out the day before Thanksgiving. May—”
    “You’re holding up the wrong hand.”
    The reappearance of our friendly server interrupted her. He put his tray on the table next to ours and set Vanni’s order before her. In front of me he banged down a small plate with a tiny wedge of chocolate cake looking lost in the middle. He delivered my cappuccino as if he had palsy—a third of the coffee slopped over into the saucer.
    “Enjoy,” he sneered as he left with his tray.
    The cappuccino was tasty. “So, your news,” I said.
    “I’m going to be published in a poetry anthology!” Vanni declared. “Five of my poems. Hardcover. Clothbound!”
    “That’s amazing,” I said. I had known she wrote poetry, but I’d had no idea she was this serious. “That’s really hard, isn’t it, to get published?”
    “’Tis. And it’s not a vanity press, either, where you pay for the printing and all that yourself. It’s the real thing. This is Pentameter Press. They’re an old, well-known company. I’ve had poems in magazines before—quite a few of them—but this is the big time.”
    “And you want to keep this a secret?”
    “I don’t need the ridicule I’ll get if people around the school find out.”
    She was right. The worst crime was to look conceited.
    I’m not very perceptive most of the time, but I realized as I watched Vanni’s dark eyes sparkle that she was offering me a kind of gift. Not just her trust that I would keep her secret—she was sharing her happiness in her achievement.
    “What’s it called, and where can I buy a copy?”
    “It doesn’t come out for a few