I lower my nose into the popcorn bucket and savor the buttery, salty scent as we enter the theater.
“Just promise me you’re not going to be eating the whole time,” Margo pleads.
“It’s a movie theater. It’s what people do. We’re not at the East End,” I say, shuffling sideways behind Ilse to our seats.
“But it’s so crunchy. It’ll be loud,” Margo says.
“Hey, your crying during The Avengers was loud. And I didn’t say squat,” I say. “I even defended you against a pack of cosplayers.”
“God, why did we invite her?” Ilse groans, suppressing a smile.
“I suppose that friendship pact we made with our Barbies really did bind us forever,” Margo says.
“Oh, God, I remember doing that,” I say. “It explains so much.”
“It explains why we put up with a philistine like you,” Ilse says.
“It explains why I put up with people who use the word ‘philistine,’” I counter. “Besides, not liking Les Miz doesn’t make me uncultured. I just don’t get people singing all the time.”