Fighting For Normal

From Shrieks to Sci-Fi

Leaning against the passenger door, I rolled the cold soda can between my hands. I popped it open and took a slow sip, soaking in the familiar sounds of the drive-in - soft voices, bursts of laughter, and the occasional revving engine. The smell of buttered popcorn mixed with grilled burgers and exhaust filled the air.

Noelle sat on the hood, her legs crossed at the ankles, her phone glowing softly on her face. The soft green light from her glow-in-the-dark earrings flickered softly at the corner of my sight. She didn’t look up when headlights swept across the pavement, but I did. My gaze stayed only briefly before I looked back at the condensation on my soda can. I smoothed my hand over the worn denim of my high-waisted jeans, catching the faint scent of lavender detergent.

A metallic white Mercedes-Benz pulled up beside us, its engine purring to a stop. The passenger door opened first. Emory stepped out, stretching like he’d been cramped for hours. Chandler followed from the back seat, shaking his arms and giving a lazy wave. My stomach fluttered. He ran a hand through his strawberry blonde hair, and I smiled slightly, lifting my soda in greeting. He held my gaze a moment longer than usual, warming my cheeks.

Then Maekynzie stepped out, smoothing her floral mini dress as the hem fluttered. Her sandals crunched softly on the gravel as she flipped her hair over one shoulder. Nervously, I traced the silver chain of my tiny moon pendant resting on my collarbone.

“Hey,” Chandler said, stepping a bit closer. “How did the tournament go?”

I looked him in the eye and held the moment briefly. “We won all four matches,” I said, pride softening my tone.

His smile grew slowly and genuinely. “I knew you would.”

Before I could speak, another car pulled up beside Maekynzie - a silver Toyota Camry with its engine shutting off smoothly.

Tinsley stepped out first, wearing dark denim and an off-the-shoulder top that slipped just enough to reveal a black tank strap. A tattoo peeked from under her sleeve. She turned to the driver’s side and gestured as the door opened.

Tinsley introduced the guy stepping out as Ashton. My heart did a weird flip-flop, a mix of curiosity and dread. I’d seen him around before. He was a senior who transferred last year and was now our new quarterback. He carried an athletic confidence that filled the space.

He nodded and said a casual, “Hey.”

I nodded back and took another sip of my soda, the cherry flavor fizzing on my tongue. I sat down in front of Noelle’s car, stretched my legs out, and leaned back against it. My white sneakers scuffed lightly against the gravel as I pulled the sleeves of my cream knit sweater further over my hands, suddenly feeling a little exposed.

Noelle slid off the hood and settled on a thick plaid blanket, stretching her legs out in front of her. Nearby, Maekynzie and Emory shared a bag of popcorn. Emory tossed pieces into the air and caught them in his mouth, making Maekynzie laugh as she watched him with a fond look. Tinsley and Ashton sat in fold-out chairs, angled toward each other, their quiet conversation a soft murmur amid the busy scene.

Chandler sat down next to me, close enough that his knee brushed mine when he shifted. The touch sent a warm thrill through my leg, but I kept my face calm and sipped my soda to distract myself. He stretched his arms behind his head and glanced at me, a lazy, charming smile on his lips.

“Want anything from the stand?” he asked, his fingers tapping lightly on his knee. His low voice made me blush.

I nodded. “Burgers and fries,” I said, quieter than I meant. The smell of grilled meat and salt suddenly felt irresistible.

He grinned and stood up. “Classic,” Chandler said, then added thoughtfully, “Curly or waffle fries?”

“Waffle,” I answered right away. Waffle fries were always the best choice.

He gave a playful salute and headed toward the concession stand, weaving through parked cars and groups of people. I watched him until he disappeared into the crowd. My heart beat faster.

Noelle nudged my ankle with her foot. “You’re staring,” she teased quietly, a small smile on her lips.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t deny it. My mind was full of scattered thoughts and daydreams, all about him.

When Chandler came back, the smell of hot food made my stomach growl. He handed me the warm burger still wrapped in paper and a tray piled high with fries. Our fingers brushed briefly, sending a happy shiver up my arm. “Hope you like extra pickles,” he said with a smirk as he sat down beside me.

I took a bite, the sharp taste of pickles mixing perfectly with the salty crunch of fries. It was exactly what I didn’t know I wanted. “You guessed right,” I said, smiling for real.

The huge screen flickered on, casting eerie shadows over the cars and blankets. The opening credits appeared in jagged white letters, accompanied by a low, unsettling hum that vibrated through the speakers. It was an old horror movie - not filled with cheap jump scares, but one that crept into your mind, making you wonder what was lurking just beyond the frame.

I took another bite of my burger, eyes glued to the screen. The grainy picture and muted colors made everything feel too real. A woman walked alone down a dim hallway, her footsteps echoing in a way that made my skin crawl. The silence stretched unbearable until a faint whisper slipped through the speakers. I swallowed hard, the sharp taste of pickles hitting my tongue.

Chandler shifted beside me, stretching his legs and leaning back on his elbows, seeming relaxed but with a slight tension in his shoulders. “This one’s a slow burn,” he muttered softly, just for me.

I nodded, gripping my burger tighter. “That’s what makes it worse,” I whispered. “It gets under your skin.”

He chuckled quietly, but there was a nervous edge to it. I could feel his unease too.

Across the lot, Emory and Maekynzie were silent, their popcorn forgotten. Tinsley sat forward, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the screen with grim focus. Even Ashton watched with a furrowed brow, his usual confidence gone.

A sudden gust of wind rustled blankets and sent napkins skittering like ghosts. I pulled my cream sweater tighter, feeling a shiver that wasn’t from the cold.

On screen, the woman reached a door at the hallway’s end. She hesitated, breath visible in the cold air. The whispering grew louder, weaving through the sound system, slipping between quiet conversations like a snake.

Noelle bumped my knee. “I hate this,” she muttered but didn’t look away.

I laughed nervously. “You picked the movie,” I reminded her, glancing her way.

Noelle groaned, hiding her face, then peeked through her fingers, torn between fear and fascination.

Chandler leaned in, his shoulder brushing mine, comforting. “If you get scared,” he teased, voice low, “you can hide behind me.”

I rolled my eyes but felt my stomach flip at the closeness. “I’ll manage,” I said, holding my cold soda tighter, feeling warmth from his arm.

The woman reached for the doorknob. The whispering stopped.

Silence.

Then - BANG. The door slammed open to nothing but deep darkness. A sharp gasp came from nearby, a collective breath held. My heart pounded loudly.

Chandler whistled softly. “Okay. That got me.”

I laughed quietly, shaking my head. “Tough guy.”

He grinned, eyes back on the screen as the woman stepped into the void, swallowed by darkness.

The movie dragged us deeper into its eerie world. Conversations faded, movements stopped. Even distant engines sounded muted, as if the whole drive-in was caught in the film’s grip.

I sipped my soda, the sweet cherry flavor grounding me in the tension. But as the next scene showed a dim room and a shadow moving just out of sight, I found myself leaning closer to Chandler, breath catching, drawn to his presence.

When the next scare came - a sudden flicker on the screen - I wasn’t the only one who jumped. My hand reached out, and for a moment, my fingers brushed his.

The final scene of the movie played out in eerie silence. The flickering screen cast ghostly light over the lot, lighting up faces still caught in the film’s grip. Noelle exhaled sharply beside me, rubbing her arms as if trying to shake off the lingering unease.

“That was messed up,” she whispered, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. Her words hung in the air, echoing the unsettling feeling the film left behind.

I nodded, clutching my empty soda can. The movie had done its job - burying itself in my mind and leaving a strange, uneasy feeling that clung to me like a damp cloak. Even Chandler, who had spent half the film teasing me, was quieter than usual. He stretched out his legs and tapped his fingers slowly against his knee, still processing what we’d just watched. I wondered if he felt as affected as I did beneath his calm exterior.

Across the lot, Emory tossed the last handful of popcorn into his mouth, shaking his head with a grimace. “I’m going to have nightmares,” he said, clearly uncomfortable.

Maekynzie laughed softly and nudged his shoulder playfully. “You’ll survive,” she said lightly, though her smile trembled slightly.

Tinsley and Ashton stood and stretched, talking quietly in their own bubble. The night settled into that post-movie stillness - everyone half-trapped in the film’s world, while reality slowly crept back in like the first light of dawn.

Then headlights cut through the quiet, sweeping across the pavement like a sudden slice.

A deep, smooth engine purred into the lot - Stetson’s Audi RS 5.

Noelle sat up straighter, her phone screen dimming as she glanced at the car. I noticed her smoothing her hands over her jeans, a nervous, almost automatic gesture.

Stetson pulled up near the edge of our group, tires crunching on the gravel. The engine idled for a moment, then shut off, deepening the quiet.

The driver’s side door opened, and Stetson stepped out. He shook his dirty blonde hair, which fell in loose waves just above his eyebrows and touched the nape of his neck, as if he had just run his fingers through it. His work shirt was untucked, and his black uniform pants were a bit wrinkled. He glanced over the group, giving a quick nod to everyone, then focused his gaze on Noelle.

She sighed dramatically but tucked her hair behind her ear, her fingers lingering at the ends, clearly self-conscious. “You’re late,” she said, trying to sound playful but showing a hint of relief.

Stetson grinned, flashing white teeth in the dim light, and closed the door with a hip bump that echoed across the lot. “I’m right on time,” he said smoothly. “The second movie’s always better.”

Noelle rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a small smile. The air between them felt charged, like they shared a silent language only they understood.

Stetson rubbed the back of his neck, eyes still on Noelle. “You good?” he asked softly, concern in his voice.

Noelle nodded but avoided his gaze, looking toward the distant screen. “Yeah,” she said breathlessly. “Just shaking off the movie.”

A long silence stretched between them, full of unspoken thoughts.

Then Stetson nudged her foot with his, a casual, intimate gesture. “You sure?” he teased, eyes sharp. “You look a little spooked.”

Noelle scoffed, dismissive, but her cheeks flushed pink. “I’m fine.”

Nearby, Maekynzie and Emory paused their conversation, watching the scene unfold. Even Tinsley and Ashton, usually lost in their own world, noticed the change, though they said nothing.

Noelle tilted her head at Stetson, a challenge in her eyes. “You staying for the second movie?” she asked lightly, but the question carried weight.

Stetson hesitated just a moment, a brief c***k in his cool facade, then nodded. “Obviously,” he said, confidence returning. “I didn’t drive all this way just to say hi.”

Noelle laughed, bright and clear, cutting through the tension. “Fine,” she said, playful. “But you owe me popcorn.”

Stetson sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “I always owe you something,” he said fondly.

“You do,” Noelle agreed with a wide smile.

Stetson settled beside her, his presence grounding the group as the second movie began. The opening credits flickered across the huge screen, marking a new chapter in the night.

The second movie started - a low-budget sci-fi with a quirky soundtrack that filled the room with bright, cheesy alien tunes. Colorful, strange landscapes flashed on the screen, a sharp contrast to the dark horror we had just watched. I glanced at Chandler beside me. He leaned back, smiling, clearly more relaxed with this goofy B-movie than the intense thriller before.

He caught my eye and waved a half-eaten fry at the screen. “Now this is more my style,” he said with a playful tone.

I laughed, a real laugh. “Yeah,” I said, “just bad special effects.” The light mood was a welcome break. The tension from the last film melted away, replaced by a calm, easy feeling. My arm brushed his again, and this time, I didn’t pull away. I let it stay, sharing a quiet connection in the soft glow of the alien world on screen.