by Ash Parsons
“I love them all equally.”
“Okay, you just talk about Linus the most,” I say.
Linus Sheppard joined the cast this season. His character, Hugh, was a veterinarian before the zombie apocalypse, so now he’s somehow become the medic of the little group of survivors, even if he insists he isn’t qualified at least once per episode.
Not only is Siggy absolutely smitten with him, but she instantly and completely shipped him with the trucker’s daughter, Shella, played by Annie Blaze. They’ve got a May-December thing going on, or at least May-October. I try not to think too much about how naturally the audience fell into the ship, when if their ages were reversed people would probably have had a problem with it.
Okay, but having said that incisive bit of social commentary, I’m not perfect. I ship them, too. Their chemistry is off the charts.
“He better sit by Annie,” Siggy says, her eyes lighting up and her hands balling into excited fists. Like she’s going to bang them on a table, yelling, “More! More!”
“He will,” I say. “It’s what the fans want!”
“You got that right, sis.” Siggy holds up a hand for a high five.
It’s obnoxious, but I can’t just leave her hanging so I give it to her.
Siggy adds a hip bump and a whoop-whoop.
I leave her hanging in that regard.
“Blair’s coming.” Imani’s warning is low.
“What?” Siggy looks worried.
“She’s coming to talk to June.” Imani passes a hand over her hair, sweeping it to one side and down as she turns away from Blair. “Just let June handle it.”
I glance down the aisle and sure enough, my frenemy is walking toward us, a look of determination on her face, which is her usual look, let’s be clear, but this is an added determined look.
A determined-determined look. It’s the kind of look that refuses a blindfold at the firing squad. It’s the look of the captain bravely going down with the ship. It’s the look of someone deciding to wax their bikini area.
“Great.” My voice is flat. “First Scott, and now her. Why not. Everything is about them.”
Leave it to Blair to make a dramatic scene at the thing I’ve been saving for all summer. Planning for, dreaming of.
I wish I didn’t miss her friendship.
I wish I didn’t expect the way she hurt me—what does that say about me? That a part of me knew it all along.
Blair is wearing tight black jeans, ankle boots, and a dark gray shirt. Her blood-spatter VIP collectible lanyard looks like the perfect edgy accessory. Basically, she looks like a rock star, and walks like someone with power, a sexy police officer or something.
Music blares out from the stage. A stagehand with floppy ginger hair is adjusting mics, his shoulders hunched up around his ears like he’s shy to be standing in front of so many people, even if no one’s paying attention to him.
Blair stops right in front of us. A leg pops out, and her arms cross, like she’s waiting to be impressed.
But I know her, so I see it for what it is.
Nerves.
She starts speaking without preamble.
“I’m sitting in the second row, center, and I have a spare seat next to me. And this extra badge.” Her hand pushes out.
It’s another VIP badge, platinum level. Blood-spatter lanyard.
Of course. Another one. Her parents probably didn’t ask, just gave her the money. I’ve seen them with her enough; I know exactly what it looked like: go away. Or I give up.
Two things Blair gets from her parents effortlessly: money and disregard. Her mom, Sherri, is beautiful like her, but cold where Blair is fierce. Sherri’s an interior designer and their house is always perfect, and always changing. Almost like a showroom, and not a home at all.
Blair’s dad, Mike, is big and tan and wears nice suits. He owns a Mercedes dealership, and when he gets home from that it’s like he used up all his words at his job. He doesn’t say much to anyone.
Blair’s older sister, Emma, is exactly the daughter Sherri and Mike wanted. Perfect, quiet, and contained, a queen bee.
Blair’s different, spiky and driven. For good and bad.
It’s almost like she has to take the things she needs.
In front of me, Blair suddenly drops her eyes, looking at the carpet between her feet. “So I thought . . . maybe you’d like to come sit with me, June.”
It’s not a question. Is she asking me? This is so Blair. Everything she does she finds a way to frame it so it’s up to you to extend yourself. Even if she’s the one inviting, it feels like an option you can choose, not something she really wants.
Before I realize I’m doing it, I mirror her posture, crossing my arms, popping a leg out.
Ugh, why did I do that? It looks like I’m imitating her. But I can’t change now, or I’ll look fidgety, like I have to go to the bathroom or something.
Anger surges through me, so I don’t change my posture. Make it mocking. Feel my eyebrow go up.
“Are you asking something, Blair?” I ask, and goddamn does it feel good.
Of course, she doesn’t actually ask it again. She ignores me like she never said anything, and looks at Siggy instead.
So, now I can’t laugh in her face at the offer. But I guess I sorta already did that.
“How about you, Siggy?” Blair smiles, a forced showing of teeth. “I’m sitting right in front of Linus’s seat.”
“Is Annie next to him?” Siggy blurts out. Then she leans back, putting a hand over her mouth, like she’s shocked she spoke. “Forget it,” Siggy says, her voice firm. She steps closer to me, our shoulders brushing.
“I can see fine from here, thanks,” Siggy says. And she crosses her arms like me, and pops a leg out.
A rush of love for Siggy pulses through me.
And so I turn to look at her.
“Are you kidding me?” I ask her. “Take the seat.”
“No way,” Siggy answers.
“I love you, girl. I want you to take that seat.” I tell her.
Siggy leans in, bumping shoulders. “Nope, I’m staying here. I love you, dork.”
Blair is watching, eyes cutting between us, forced smile on her face.
And suddenly I’m tired. And sad. The hurt is still there, breathtaking if I think about it. If I stop to notice it.
But I can push it down, can’t I?
I have Imani standing next to me, giving Blair a direct, hurt stare. And I have Siggy, still ready to throw off righteously angry sparks for me. True friends. Sisters of my heart. Loyal.
I don’t need Blair.
Today isn’t about her. It’s not supposed to be about what she did to me. So it’s not supposed to be about me, either.
I put my arm around Siggy’s whippet-waist. My voice is a low murmur.
“It’s okay, Siggy. Take the seat. Then come back after the panel and tell us exactly what he looks like from row two, center.”
“Are you sure?” Siggy asks, and her voice isn’t eager, just worried.
And that alone makes me sure.
“I bet he’s even more perfect in real life,” I answer.
“Right? It’s like he doesn’t have pores at all,” Siggy says.
“We’ll wait here,” Imani says, slapping Siggy on the butt. “Go have fun, goober.”
I look at Blair. I want her to see it in my eyes: that I’m choosing to let Siggy go. That I’m a good person.
The better person.
That me giving the seat to Siggy means more than her sharing the pass she wanted to give to her boyfriend.
Okay, and that makes me less of a good person than I thought, but I still get points for this, dammit.
Blair acts like she doesn’t see it.
But it’s plainly obvious, and I might be naive an
d hope too much of people, but I’m not naive enough not to realize that when Blair got those two VIP passes, they were for her and Scott.
Two passes.
So a part of me has a little jolt of extra life now, that something happened between them, because he’s not using the pass. At least not now.
And he tried to talk to me.
Not that he’s going to get another chance, it just feels good to know he wants one. That maybe after choosing her over me, he would try to re-choose me again.
Ugh. It sounds gross when I think about it like that, though.
Siggy smiles at us and then follows Blair back up the aisle to the front of the hall. She’s keeping a little space between them, keeping her arms crossed so her arms don’t accidentally brush Blair.
“That was really nice of you,” Imani tells me. “You didn’t have to give her your blessing like that.”
“Yes, I did,” I say. “Siggy wouldn’t have minded, but I would have.”
Imani gives me a quick hug.
“That’s why I love you,” she says.
“D’aw,” I say, but I can’t help smiling anyway.
Siggy and Blair have reached the seats, and Siggy turns and gives two big thumbs-up from the second row.
We’re approximately thirty rows and a standing-room-only aisle behind her.
“Besides,” I add. “We can’t give Blair the cold shoulder forever.”
Imani leans into me. “You have such a big heart, June. It’s only been like a week.”
My shrug shifts the scoop neck of my shirt farther off one shoulder. “Feels like longer, I guess.”
Siggy points at the empty chair onstage directly in front of her. She claps and makes a heart shape with her hands.
I send two big thumbs-up back.
“I guess it was nice of Blair, too,” I say begrudgingly. “To offer it.” Because Blair didn’t have to walk back here. She didn’t have to offer a spare seat.
“If she really wanted to be nice, or try to atone, she could have offered us both seats,” Imani says. “She has an agenda.”
The lights in the auditorium dim as the stage gets brighter.
Imani touches my arm, making sure I meet her eyes. “It’s Blair, so it’s not gonna be straightforward. But it means she misses us. She misses you, June.”
Is that the same thing as feeling sorry?
Imani sighs, and her shoulders give a small, defeated shrug.
“It’s a start, at least,” she says.
What would it take for me to get over the injury?
I can’t even picture it.
Because Blair will never be able to cross that distance. She’ll never be able to say the right words. Not because there are no right words, but simply because she won’t be able to bring herself to say them. Can’t bring herself to that vulnerable place.
The flip side of her strength, and her drive, and the intensity I loved about her. That I still love about her.
Which means I’ll eventually have to accept the wound, and move on, accepting the meanings under gestures, somehow have that be enough.
And try not to feel cheated that I never got an actual apology.
Imani’s head tilts onto my shoulder as one of her arms squeezes around me. “You don’t have to deal with it today, June.”
But I will have to. Just not yet.
I squeeze Imani back, grateful for my friend. How can I be more like her? I love her so much it’s a physical squeeze in my heart.
Imani looks over, and sends me a sky-wide smile.
She knows exactly how I feel.
12
A cheer ripples through the crowd. The post-show host, Michaela, is back. She stalks across the front of the stage in her high-heel boots and tight blue dress, dreadlocks gathered into a low ponytail, trailing down her back. She’s in her element, pointing at fans and waving.
“Okay! Senoybia! Wow!” She claps at us, long nails and dark brown skin luminous under the stage lights.
She’s so glamorous. But she’s been a zombie on the show a few times, and I could never spot her until she showed us the behind-the-scenes video!
“Okay! All right!” she yells into the mic, and we start to quiet down. “That’s better. Children. We’ve got a lot to cover, but before I start the panel, we’ve got to go over the rules, again. I’m talking about photo ops.”
We cheer reflexively. Photo ops! So exciting!
Michaela nods at us and waits until the cheers quiet down.
“Yes, we’re all excited! I want your photo op to be amazing! So just a reminder, okay, because this will get you ejected from the con, and you will not get your photo, and you will not get a refund so . . . do not bite the actors.”
There are a few laughs from the crowd, but also groans like seriously?
“I know,” Michaela says. “You would think this would go without saying but. Here. We. Are.”
She shakes her head.
“So, since I’m up here saying it, we’re going to go farther—no teeth or lips may touch the actor’s skin. They’re feeling jumpy. They pretend-kill zombies all the time, let’s work with them, not against them. This is a no-go zone. So, if you want to pretend to be a zombie, fine! But NO MOUTH CONTACT to the actors.”
Imani turns big eyes to me. “Good lord!”
“It better not have been Hunter who got bit,” I mutter.
“Any of them! I can’t believe anyone would think that’s okay!” Imani says.
I get that feeling again. That surge of protectiveness for Hunter, specifically, remembering how he walked out onto the stage, and off it when the girl asked for a hug, pulling his hair over his eyes, but going anyway, an unwelcome part of his job. But should it be?
And now that I’ve met them, the surge of protectiveness extends to sweet Janet O’Shea, and to James Cooper. He was so nice! So generous!
Did either of them get bit? Or did a fan press their teeth onto their skin, like ha ha, it’s just for a joke, right? Get it? I’m a zombie!
Ugh.
It goes all through me. I swear I would tackle any fan who would put their teeth on a stranger’s skin.
I promise again to be cool. When I have my photo op. I will be cool.
“Okay!” Onstage Michaela relaxes and smiles, strutting forward with slightly raised steps, like an aggressive model on the runway. “Are you ready for our full! Cast! PaneeeeeLLL!”
She yells the last word like the WWE announcer says, “Rrrrrrumble!”
We go nuts. We shriek and clap.
Everyone is on their feet. I can see Siggy’s white-blonde hair, bright even in the dim light.
Siggy’s hands are cupped around her mouth as she shrieks at the stage.
Michaela raises the mic again.
“Did you know we’ve NEVER had SO MANY of the show actors onstage at ONE TIME?!?”
We shriek again.
“So, let me bring them out!” Michaela walks to the farthest chair, and starts yelling the actors’ names. Our shrieks and cheers blend together in a seamless roar.
The actors walk quickly onto the stage in a scattering clump, like a loose firework separating onstage, their teeth and eyes bright, their skin flawless, some of them wearing sunglasses, but the rest just at home under the lights.
They wave to the audience and find their seats as Michaela keeps yelling names and we keep shrieking our applause.
“Simon Wong! Annie Blaze! Linus Sheppard!”
When Linus and Annie step onto the stage, I glance at Siggy. She’s bouncing so hard her long hair looks like some kind of scarf, fluttering up and down.
The actors quick-walk to their seats. Annie and Linus are both white, but while Linus is the epitome of a pale Englishman, Annie has a healthy tan that looks golden under the lights. Her dyed red hair falls in lusci
ous curls that brush her shoulders. She pivots in front of her seat, waving like a beauty queen (which she is) before sitting.
Linus smiles and points at Siggy.
“Hunter Sterling!” Michaela yells. “And of course, James Cooper!”
I want to keep watching what’s going on with Linus and Siggy, but now Hunter is back onstage and my eyes are drawn straight to him, like he’s a bug zapper and I’m a moth.
Yep. Just as gorgeous from the back of the hall. Look at the way he moves.
He shrugs, waves, smiles shyly, and waits for James to catch up to him.
Then, like actual father and son, James puts a casual arm across Hunter’s shoulders as they wave to the audience.
We go nuts. I shriek so hard it hurts, but I don’t stop because now they’re smiling. Then James gives Hunter’s shoulder a pat, and a steer, and they turn and go to their seats.
The audience with seats sits down after Hunter and James do. We get mostly quiet, and the panel begins.
Michaela starts reading questions off the card. And just like with any panel I’ve ever watched on YouTube, the fun isn’t in the questions, it’s in the actors’ interactions with each other.
And it’s funny because it’s almost like they stay in character. Sam, who plays the old lawyer, Jamison, is wry and wise when he speaks. Cuellar, the actor who plays the abrasive, racist redneck, doesn’t come across as racist, but the abrasive energy is still there, though it’s covered over like he’s just teasing.
It does make you wonder how far down the similarities go.
Michaela turns to Siggy’s favorites, Annie and Linus.
“So, newbies! What’s it like joining a hit show at the end of the third season?”
Annie lifts her mic and leans forward. “It’s awesome! But I have to say my absolute favorite thing is being shipped so intensely IMMEDIATELY. Thanks for that!”
Her tone is teasing, so it’s obvious she doesn’t really mind.
Having such a fanatic response to her and Linus’s characters together probably ensures they’ll stay alive for several more episodes, at least.
Michaela picks up on the tease.
“Well, looking at Linus, I have to say it’s a hard job, but someone’s got to do it, right?”