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I sink into my chair and try not to overthink. For once, Prudence,don’t overthink.

The audience, it turns out, is into this film.Reallyinto it. Within the first few minutes, people are shouting at the screen—Don’t do it, Chrissie! Stay out of the water!I gulp, gooseflesh crawling down my arms when it becomes clear what’s about to happen to the girl skinny-dipping on the screen. I turn my head, ready to bury it in Quint’s shoulder if I need to, and he scoots closer to me, as if encouraging me to use his shoulder at will.

Which I do.

The movie is terrifying… and also not. The idea of it is the worst part, the suspense of knowing that the shark is nearby whenever that ominous music begins to play. It isn’t long before I’m gripping Quint’s arm, my fingers digging into his sleeve. He doesn’t pull away.

On the screen, a shark has been caught—a tiger shark. The townspeople have it hanging from a hook on the dock as the mayor of Amity Island tells the media that the predator responsible for the recent attacks is dead. The audience around us shouts at the mayor:It’s not the right shark! Boo!

“Poor shark,” I find myself muttering.

Quint gives me a knowing nod. “Terrible, right?”

Terrible—because it actually happens.

The movie goes on. Tourists flock to the beaches. Chief Brody’s young sons go out into the water—

A small blue screen catches my eye. I frown, distracted. Someone in the next row is looking at their phone.

I tilt forward. They’re… scrolling through Instagram? What the heck?

Someone behind me notices it, too, and yells, “Hey, turn off your phone!”

The phone clicks off.

My attention returns to the screen. The music is building again. Chief Brody is running. The children have no idea—

The blue screen blinks on again. Though I can’t see the person’s face, I cansee their phone crystal clear. They’re typing a text message to someone named Courtney.Busy tomorrow? Swim Source is having a big sale.

I’m not the only one getting annoyed. People are starting to shout at the phone user now, not the screen. “So inconsiderate.” “What’s wrong with you?” “Watch the movie!”

Quint shakes his head—I only know because he’s been leaning his brow against my hair as I’ve clutched ever tighter to his arm. “Some people.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, one hand settling into my lap. “Some people.”

My fingers curl into a fist.

A song starts to blare from the screen. The girl jumps, dropping the phone. The song keeps playing, a peppy pop song I remember being really popular when I was a kid.

Quint snorts. “I think the name of this song is ‘Rude,’” he says, giving me an amused look. “Fitting.”

The girl scrambles to find the phone on the floor, while more people join the chorus yelling at her. “Turn it off!” “What are you doing?” “Quiet down!”

She manages to pick up the phone, and I have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing as she hits every button she can, swiping the screen left and right, toggling the switch on the side. Nothing works. If anything, the music just gets louder.Why you gotta be so rude?

Finally, an employee of the theater arrives and insists that she leave the theater.

As she’s led out of the auditorium, head hung with embarrassment, the whole crowd cheers.

The shark is dead. The sun is setting. The ending credits begin to roll. The theater lights come back up, and the audience enthusiastically applauds.

I release a long, traumatized breath. I’m clinging to Quint like a barnacle. I’ve probably left permanent impressions where my fingers have been digging into his arms, but if he’s bothered by it, he hasn’t given any indication.

I slowly turn my head and see him grinning at me.

“So?” he asks. “What’d you think?”

I’m not entirely sure how to respond. Despite being absolutely horrified, I actually did like the movie. The writing was good, as were the characters. Theshark was… well, an animatronic shark from the seventies, but the idea of the shark was chilling.