“I really love these pages,” she said. “The way your grandfather drew Skylark and Skybound, it was like he was drawing people he knew and loved, not characters he made up.”
They were people he knew and loved, Mir thought. They were his creations. They were a part of him. Mir reached out her hand, her fingers tracing the inky upward swirl of Skylark’s perfectly coiffed hair. You gave me back the TomorrowMen, Mir thought to Weldon. She had the sudden urge to burst out laughing.
“They’re beautiful,” Mir said. “I’ve never seen original comic pages before.”
Emma smiled, her gaze still on the artwork in front of her. Finally she turned toward Mir.
“Okay. Now let’s go to Comic-Con.”
* * *
Weldon sat backstage at Hall H, watching the TomorrowMen movie actors through narrowed eyes. Beside him, Stuart was slumped in a chair, his arms folded across his chest. Weldon thought he might be asleep. David Warrick was talking animatedly with the actor playing Skybound, a man so stunningly handsome Weldon suspected he had been grown in a lab. Weldon had shaken the man’s hand a few minutes earlier and had noticed his skin seemed to have no pores.
“So you’re the boss’s son!” the actor had said jovially, staring at a spot slightly above Weldon’s head. Weldon had nodded, said nothing, and the actor moved on, going over to stand beside the tiny blond woman who was playing Skylark. Weldon had watched as he looped an arm effortlessly over the woman’s shoulders, beaming down at her like a benevolent god.
“Actors,” Stuart muttered from the chair next to Weldon.
“I don’t know why I’m here. They didn’t even really let me design the outfits for the movie. It was just, ‘Stuart, this character’s costume needs a boob window. How do we know she’s a superhero if she doesn’t have a boob window? The audience demands boob windows!’” Stuart put his hands over his face, muttering a drawn-out “Fuuuuuck.” Weldon stifled a laugh.
In the background, the crowd howled. Weldon glanced in the direction of the stage, glad he didn’t have to face them. Six thousand geeks, most of whom had slept overnight on the pavement outside the convention center, determined to get a seat in Hall H. All the biggest panels were in Hall H. The biggest superhero movies, the most famous actors. To get a peek at the glamour, one had to be prepared to sacrifice.
“I’m glad you’re here,” David Warrick said. Weldon glanced up. His father’s face was shining. Weldon knew this moment was the culmination of years of planning, a new beginning for Warrick Studios. David crouched next to Weldon.
“I spoke with your aunt and uncle a few weeks ago. They said you’ve been doing really well this summer. I’m proud of you.” David Warrick reached out, tapping Weldon’s forearm approvingly.
“I know how difficult everything has been for you in the last few years. I want you to know, you have a place here. With me, with Warrick Studios. If you want, you can come home to Los Angeles now. You don’t have to wait until the end of the summer.”
“Thank you,” whispered Weldon. His father smiled and stood up, walking back toward the knot of actors. Weldon watched him go. His chest felt hollow.
Weldon’s phone chirped. He glanced at it. A text appeared on-screen.
MIRIAM’S HERE. WHERE ARE YOU? WE’RE OUTSIDE THE EXHIBIT HALL.
Weldon bolted out of his chair. Beside him, Stuart started with surprise.
“Dad,” Weldon said. David Warrick turned toward him. Behind his father, the actors glanced toward Weldon, curious. The man playing Skybound now had one arm looped around the actor playing Tristan Terrific, standing so closely they looked like a couple.
“I have to go.”
“What?” David Warrick said, puzzled. “But we’re just about to go on. The trailer—”
“I have to go,” Weldon said again.
“They won’t let you back in,” his father said, frowning. “You leave this area and security won’t let you back in the hall. You’ll miss the trailer. You’ll miss everything.”
“Someone’s here,” Weldon said, “and I have to go see her. I’m sorry.”
“Is this your mother’s doing?” David Warrick hissed, taking a step toward Weldon. “Is this more of her bullshit—”
“It’s not her,” said Weldon, turning away. “It’s Mir. She’s here.”
“Who?”
But Weldon had already run out the exit door.
* * *
Outside the exhibit hall, Mir gaped at the whirlwind of geekdom around her. To her left, a short man in yellow-and-black spandex, an unlit cigar hanging out of the corner of his mouth, posed with a group of teenagers wearing postapocalyptic Sailor Moon outfits. Mir was impressed with the attention to detail, although she wasn’t sure how practical ripped fishnets would be for surviving a zombie-infested wasteland. Beside her, Weldon’s mother watched the interaction, her gaze disapproving.
“Most of that stuff you can buy online,” Emma said with a wave of her hand. “When I cosplayed, you had to make your costumes by hand. That was real cosplay.”
“I think they look nice,” Mir said, feeling protective of the postapocalyptic Sailor squad. The group looked like they were having fun, laughing and posing theatrically while taking pictures with their phones. One girl held up a wand with a crescent moon attached to it and proclaimed, “In the name of the moon, I shall punish you!” The rest of the group dissolved into giggles.
Mir pointed at the doors to the exhibit hall.
“Can we go in?”
Emma glanced at her, then down at the phone in her hand.
“Just a minute. I’m waiting to hear back about something.”
Mir turned away to hide her impatience. She wanted to find the Warrick Studios booth. She wanted to find Weldon. She wasn’t sure why Weldon’s mom was so reluctant to go inside the exhibit hall, but she didn’t want to go by herself. Mir had the sneaking suspicion that some people went into Comic-Con and never came out. She didn’t want to lose track of Emma in this mass of people. She stared longingly at the entrance to the exhibit hall. Weldon, she thought. Weldon, I’m here. Find me!
* * *
Weldon dodged a clot of people gathered around a display for anime figurines, stepped carefully over a pack of children playing with a large bin of superhero-themed Lego, and rolled under a poorly constructed booth advertising geek online dating: GUARANTEED TO BE 100% FAKE GEEK FREE. The booth’s owner spluttered an indignant “Hey!” as Weldon’s foot caught the edge of his display, sending a pile of key chains tumbling to the ground.
“There’s no such thing as a fake geek!” Weldon shouted over his shoulder as he tore away from the booth. Ahead of him the exhibit hall doors gaped, and he pounded through them, eliciting a glare from a nearby security guard. He stood panting in the convention center’s front foyer, looking for Mir. He had made it through the exhibit hall in less than ten minutes.
Weldon circled to his left and began trotting along the foyer. Several people eyed him curiously. Ahead of him he saw an explosion of color as a large group of what appeared to be postapocalyptic schoolgirls milled around, taking pictures and posing with other cosplayers. The crowd around Weldon slowed to admire the cosplayers and Weldon was forced to slow as well. He dodged to his right to try to move around the group, and then—
He saw Mir.
He saw the top of her head, her hair twisted into a bun, curls escaping and tumbling down her back. She was wearing a red shirt, and the color against her dark hair was like a beacon.
Weldon tried to wind his way through the crowd of cosplayers, dodging between three of the postapocalyptic schoolgirls posing like Charlie’s Angels, spinning around a man dressed in a tuxedo and cape, whose appearance elicited shrieks of delight from the cosplayers. Then he was through the crowd and she was there in front of him, her back still turned. He stared at the back of her head, noticing for the first time the way her ears stuck out a little on the sides. If I say something, it’ll ruin everything, Weldon thought. She’ll vanish in a puff o
f smoke. His fingers reached out and brushed the nape of her neck.
She turned, and when she saw him, she smiled. Her eyes were looking straight at him and her mouth was smiling and her hands were reaching for him. Her hands slid over his shoulders and around his neck and clasped where they met at the back. Her forehead was against his and his chest was filled with so much light he thought he would explode and wipe them all out, him and Mir, the convention center, San Diego itself. Wiped from this plane of existence. He wrapped his arms around her and felt her body press into his, filling every space between them. Mir tilted her head up and her mouth met his, and it was weird and sloppy and wonderful. When she pulled away, her face still turned up toward his, a disbelieving laugh bubbled out of Weldon.
“I’m sorry,” Mir said.
“I’m sorry,” Weldon said. Mir smiled and blinked in a way that might have meant her eyes were watery.
“So Canadian,” she said. Behind them, the postapocalyptic schoolgirls screamed with approval.
“COMIC-CON!” howled a blue-haired girl in a tattered leather jacket, flinging her wand into the air. “YEAAAHHH!”
Mir giggled and ducked her head, pressing her face against Weldon’s chest. Weldon bent his cheek to the top of Mir’s hair bun and slid his hands around her back, closing his eyes. She was here. He could explode with light and everything would be fine.
Mir squirmed a little and he let her go. She pushed a stray curl back from her forehead.
“A little tight.”
“Sorry,” he said. Mir laughed again.
“Canadian.”
“I can’t help it,” Weldon said. “It’s in my blood.”
“Now the vengeful and patriotic ghost of Farley Mowat will pass by you, recognizing you as one of our own,” said Mir.
“Thank god,” Weldon sighed. “That guy was getting on my nerves.” He looked up and saw his mother standing a few feet away, watching him and Mir. The heel of her hand was pressed to her mouth, and her eyebrows were drawn downward. For a moment Weldon thought she was angry, but then she smiled.
“I’m happy for you, kiddo,” said Emma.
“You did this,” Weldon said, astonished. Emma shrugged, still smiling.
“I don’t trust the post office,” she said. “Makes more sense for her to come out here and pick up her grandfather’s artwork in person. Besides—” Emma gestured, taking in the convention, the cosplayers, the entrance to the exhibit hall. “I thought she should see all of this.”
Emma smiled, looking down. Her silvery-blond hair fell forward, partially obscuring her face.
“It’s a part of who she is. Who you both are.” She looked up at Weldon and Mir, and laughed. “Both of you, total nerds.”
Mir moved to stand beside Weldon, looping her arm around his waist. He slid his arm around her, thrilling at the feeling of her so close to him. Emma turned away, starting to walk toward the convention exit.
“Enjoy the con, kids. Mir, give me a shout when you want to come back to my place. I’ll come pick you up. Don’t stay out too late.”
“I—I don’t have a cell phone,” Mir said, her voice suddenly alarmed.
“I have one,” Weldon said. “I’ll call her. Mom—” Weldon’s fingers itched to reach out and prevent his mother from leaving. He kept his hand firmly wrapped around Mir’s waist.
“You don’t want to stay? Just for a bit? You have a badge.”
“I’ve seen it all before,” said Emma, waving a hand over her shoulder. “I was a geek before you kids were thoughts in the universe.”
Weldon watched her go, his heart aching a little. But Mir was beside him, and that was enough.
“Holy shit,” said a guy dressed as Wolverine. “Was that Emma Sanders? I had her poster in my room when I was twelve. She still looks amazing!”
Mir slipped her hand through Weldon’s and tugged him toward the exhibit hall entrance.
“C’mon,” she said, her face shining. “I’ve never been to Comic-Con. Show me what it’s like. Show me everything.”
Weldon allowed himself to be pulled toward the hall doors, his hand tangled in Mir’s. They wove through the small crowd that had gathered by the entrance, a knot of people holding up badges for security guards to inspect. Mir paused, reaching in her bag to pull out a comic. Weldon saw the title as she turned it toward him: New TomorrowMen #68.
“I need this signed by the guy who drew it. Stuart Samuel. Otherwise I might be out of a job. The signature is payment to Holly for getting today off.”
“Amazing how everyone is secretly a nerd at heart,” Weldon said. He squeezed Mir’s hand and held up his badge for the security guard to see. “I’ll make sure he signs it.”
They stepped through the exhibit hall doors and into the world beyond. Weldon felt Mir’s hand tighten around his own as she took in the exhibit hall, her eyes wide. In a flash he saw everything as she saw it, the madness and energy but also the joyful heart of the convention.
“Oh, wow,” she whispered. “Comics made all of this.”
They walked the length of the convention hall, Weldon’s arm around Mir when the crowd thinned, hand in hand when the paths became too crowded and they had to move single file through a group of gawkers shouting for freebies at the Marvel booth. Mir stared at everything, mouth hanging open. They passed by booths for smaller comic publishers, tables stacked high with hardbound graphic novels with beautifully designed covers, the artwork strange and complicated. There were so many comics, the artwork strikingly different from how the TomorrowMen comics were drawn. Mir lingered over the books, her hands brushing the embossed cover designs.
“I think my grandfather would have loved all of this,” she murmured. She looked at the rows of covers stretching out to her left and right. “All these comics, and they’re all so unique.”
They reached the end of the exhibit hall, then looped back toward the Warrick Studios booth. Mir’s hand tightened around Weldon’s hand and she hung back, her expression unsure.
“It’s okay,” said Weldon. “Stuart’s signing now. I don’t think my dad will be around.”
“I’ll have to meet him someday,” Mir said. “If, y’know”—she looked up at Weldon—“if this is going to work.”
“No ‘ifs,’” Weldon said. Mir pulled on Weldon’s hand and he stopped, turning toward her.
“Okay,” she said. “No ‘ifs.’ But if this is going to work, you can’t act like you’re Tristan Terrific and you can change my mind with a smile.”
Mir’s expression was bright and fierce, direct on his face. Weldon nodded, feeling like he might melt under the intensity of her gaze.
“Okay,” he said. “And you can’t blame me for something that happened forty years ago.”
Mir nodded too.
“We all have things to work on,” she said, then laughed, shaking her head.
“This is the least practical thing I’ve ever done. What’s even going to happen after the summer? Are you going back to LA? We both have another year of school. And then what?”
“We’ll figure something out,” Weldon said. He looked at Mir. “Skylark was from a galaxy a million miles from Earth. She came here to warn us of impending doom, and then decided to stay because she fell in love with Skybound. If an alien queen and a soldier with superhuman strength can make it work, so can we.”
Mir shook her head again, smiling.
“You read too many comic books.”
They stood in line for Stuart Samuel, Mir’s arm wound around Weldon’s waist. Standing behind them was a woman with a pink Skylark T-shirt; in front of them were two teenage boys wearing the same Skybound T-shirt. The Skybound T-shirt was the design from the movie, an impossibly sculpted Skybound standing impassively with arms folded, glowering at anyone nearby. Mir pointed at the T-shirt and stood on her toes to whisper in Weldon’s ear: “I miss the cape.”
Weldon nodded. “I miss it too.”
When they reached the front of the line, Stuart glanced up at Weldon, th
en did a double take, surprised.
“What are you doing in line, Weldon? You’re the boss’s kid. You don’t have to put up with that nonsense.”
“It’s okay,” Weldon said. He gestured toward Mir, who held out Holly’s copy of New TomorrowMen #68. “This is Miriam. My—” He froze, suddenly unsure.
“Girlfriend,” said Mir. “I’m Weldon’s girlfriend. Miriam Kendrick.”
Stuart took the comic from Mir, then smiled as though he’d figured out a puzzle. He pointed a finger at her.
“Micah Kendrick. Your dad?”
“Grandfather,” said Mir.
“Of course. You’re much too young. I met him, you know. Years ago.”
“What was he like?” Mir said softly.
Stuart leaned forward, his hands grasping the comic he’d drawn.
“He was kind to me,” he said. “I was just a kid who wanted to make comics, and he was my hero. He encouraged me. No one draws the TomorrowMen like he did. Not even me.” Stuart leaned back and dug in his pocket for a moment, pulling out a battered wallet. He handed Mir a business card.
“There’s my info. You ever want to get in touch about comics or whatever, give me a shout. I owe your grandfather that. All right?”
“I will,” said Mir, tucking Stuart’s business card into her bag. “Thanks so much.”
“Hey, no problem at all,” Stuart said, signing his name on Holly’s comic with a dramatic flourish. They stepped out of line, Mir blowing on the signature before placing the comic carefully in its plastic sleeve.
“He was nice,” Mir said.
Weldon nodded.
“Yeah, he’s cool. Don’t ask him about boob windows, though.”
Mir frowned. “What’s a boob window?”
Weldon grinned, shaking his head. When he looked up, he saw his father standing at the edge of the Warrick Studios booth, watching him and Mir. David Warrick was close enough to have overheard the conversation with Stuart, and from the somber look on his face, he had. The energy that had radiated from him earlier was all but gone. Weldon tensed as his father walked toward them. Mir turned to see what Weldon was looking at and Weldon felt her stiffen as she recognized his father.
Comics Will Break Your Heart Page 25