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Jenna Rock
Ms. Albrecht
Advanced Composition
9/2/14
Popcorn and Hospitals
Frozen was supposed to be the best movie ever; all my friends loved it, and now I was
eager to finally be seeing it. The theater was a little coldI knew I should have brought a
sweatshirt. My sister reached over to grab some popcorn, but I slapped her hand away because
youre not supposed to eat before the movie startsit was a rule we always followed. Popcorn
wasnt high on my list of priorities, though, because Id been feeling a little off ever since
breakfast. I thought maybe it was something in the eggs.
The movie started and dragged along, and maybe I would have been able to enjoy the
colorful Disney animation if I would have felt a little better, but that wasnt the case. Shifting in
my seat, I concentrated on deep breaths and relaxation. It was a funny feelingbreathing was
getting harder and my heart kept skipping beats. All of a sudden, the dark theater, only slightly
illuminated by the glow of the screen, seemed more like a prison than a place for entertainment. I
desperately wanted to leave, but the movie was almost over. If I could just get through the
movie, Id be fine.
Finally, the credits rolled down the screen and the lights brightened. My sister and mom
stood up, the popcorn they had spilled falling from their laps to the floor. I tried to stand as well,
but I couldnt. My legs were burning. They felt like they weighed one hundred pounds each. My

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heart was racing; I could feel it in my throat. I grabbed onto the sleeve of my mothers cardigan.
The shock and concern in her eyes told me she knew something was wrong, and she put her arm
around my waist to help me stand up. I dont feel good, I muttered through clenched teeth. She
slowly walked me out of the row of seats, then out to the lobby of the theater. There seemed to
be a lump in my throat that was making it even harder to breathe, and my physical discomfort
mixed with anxiety and fear.
Whats wrong? my sister asked as she felt my forehead with the back of her hand.
Words wouldnt come out of my mouth, though. I couldnt explain that the racing of my heart
and the skipping of its beats and the difficulty of breathing were too much to handle, so tears
spoke for me. Choking on my own breaths, I started to cry. Stay here with her; Ill go pull the
car up. I think we need to go to the hospital. My mom ran out of the theater, down the concrete
steps, and out to the parking lot. Our silver Acadia was parked all the way at the back. Of course
it would be.
Slowly, my sister and I made our way to a bench at the front window of the theater. I sat
down and tried to regulate my breaths, but my fingers kept tingling and tears kept falling and
breathing remained too hard. Excuse me, sweetheart, I have to get up there. A tall, young man
in a navy blue maintenance uniform pointed to the lights on the ceiling above my head, implying
that I needed to move. Oh, sorry my sister politely said as she helped me stand and move out
of the way. The man saw my tears, though, and his facial expression turned to guilt. Theres
another bench over there if you need one. My sister and I both heard him, but neither of us
responded. Our focus was not on a bench, but on seeing the silver Acadia pull to the front of the
theater. It seemed as though time couldnt move any slower. The maintenance guy didnt get
back to his workI could feel his eyes watching me worriedly. His dark brown work boot took

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one step towards me, as if he was going to attempt to help, but my mother finally pulled up to the
front of the theater and my sister clasped her arms around my shoulders to help me walk to the
car. I could feel the stares of everyone around me, their attention held by my sobs and painstricken expression. That didnt matter to me, though. Nothing mattered to me except breathing.
Finally, we were on our way to the hospital.
It was another day, another job, another place to be. Work is work, but I didnt mind.
I pulled up to the front of Carmike Theaters and started to unload the back of my white van.
Some say it looks like a creeper van, and others would probably agree. I had to carry both
loads of equipment into theater by myself because my coworker called in sick, but I didnt
mind that, either. His company didnt necessarily enthuse me.
The scent of popcorn lingered in the air, which didnt help the pang of hunger that
was already in my stomach. This was the last job before lunch break, which excited me
because I knew it shouldnt take too longjust changing a few light bulbs. In addition,
today I was supposed to eat lunch with my bossI felt a pay raise coming my way. I was
anxious, but I tried to ignore it. All my equipment was lying on the carpeted floor in the
front of the lobby, and I was ready to get to work. I set up my orange-painted metal ladder
and turned off the front lights. Climbing that ladder was always my least favorite part of
workit was old and unstable, but it hadnt failed me yet. As I stepped up a few rungs, I
reached out my arm to unscrew the burnt-out light bulbs. They were still hot, but it was
bearable. I could probably make it all the way back down to the floor without any severe
burns.

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And so it went, me unscrewing light bulbs and screwing new ones back innot the
most exciting task in the world. It was almost over, though, I only had one to go. I moved
my way to the rightmost bulb, and took my equipment with me. The ladder was
surprisingly light. Excuse me, sweetheart, but I need to get up there, I said to two teenage
girls who were sitting on a bench near where I needed to set the ladder down as I pointed
to the ceiling, showing them that I was changing the light bulbs. The girls looked alike.
Sisters, I decided, and maybe even twins. Oh, sorry, one of them absentmindedly replied.
She put her arms around the girl next to her and helped her stand. Why did she do that?
Maybe a disability, I thought. Then she turned, and I saw her tears. Maybe it was just a sad
movieteenage girls are always so dramatic about their chick flicks. They only took a step
away; I still needed them to move a little more so that I could put my ladder in the right
spot. I looked at the clock, debating whether or not I should say something to themthe
last think I wanted to be was late to lunch with my boss.
It didnt take too long to realize that something was wrong, though, something that
wasnt stemming from a chick flick. I could see her hands quivering. Her face was drained
of color and she breathed as if the air was too thick to get in and out of her lungs. Instantly,
I felt terrible for asking them to moveshe needed to sit. Theres another one over there if
you need one, I said. They were standing only a few feet away from me, but I dont think
they heard. The matter at hand, whatever it was, took their full attentiveness.
Instinctively, I stepped forward; I wanted to help, but I didnt know what was going
on. Just as I was about to ask if there was anything I could do, they started to leave. It was
slowone of them needing a lot of support to walk to the door. The sobs attracted a small

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crowd of movie-goers who were equally as curious about the situation as me as the girls
made their way to a large, silver car. It took more assistance for the seemingly sick girl to
get inside of the car, but she made it and they sped away.
I stood there for a moment wondering what exactly had just happened. Maybe she
was hurt, or maybe a family member wasnt doing well. Where that car was driving off to, I
will never know. A sad movie is what I concluded to. The luring scent of over-buttered
popcorn brought me out of my daze, and I climbed the orange ladder one last time for one
last bulb. I was only five minutes off schedule, so I decided that Id have to speed more than
I usually do to get to lunch on time. Hopefully there werent any cops out.