by Jen Wilde
“What do you want to do?” she asks with a yawn, and I grin.
* * *
An hour later, we’re fed, showered, caffeinated, and exploring the aisles of SupaCon. We’re only on the floor a few minutes before Tay grabs my arm with both hands and squeezes so tight I think she’s going to rip it off.
“Charlie,” she whispers, her eyes wider than her smile. “Look!” She points over the crowd.
Through the window into the street, I see something gold and sparkling and bigger than my house. “Is that…?”
Tay nods so fast she reminds me of a bobblehead. “A Queen Firestone jumping castle!” She spins around to find Jamie, who’s perusing a Naruto box set at the Viz Media booth. She pokes him in the ribs and grins. “Jamie, look!”
He follows her direction and laughs when he sees it. “You’ve died and gone to heaven, haven’t you?”
She nods frantically again. “You comin’?”
“Nah. I’ll catch up. I’m in my own version of heaven: manga and anime!”
“Have fun!” Tay says as she grabs my arm and pulls me outside through the crowd.
When we join the line, I notice the two teenage boys in front of us glancing back at me. At first I think they’re just admiring my Ms. Marvel T-shirt, but then one turns around and says, “Are you Charlie Liang?”
I freeze for a moment, trying to remember where I’ve met them before, but then I realize they recognize me from my work, and I beam with pride. “Yes! I am! Did you see The Rising?”
His friend elbows him in the side. “I told you it was her!”
The first boy gives me a sheepish smile. “I didn’t recognize you; your hair is so different. And no, we haven’t seen The Rising yet, but we’re going next week, and we can’t wait!” He sticks his hand out. “I’m Eric, and this is my boyfriend, Jayesh.”
“We watch your channel all the time,” the second boy adds when I shake his hand.
“That’s so cool! Thank you!”
I introduce Tay just as Jamie joins us.
“Are you vlogging while you’re here?” Jayesh asks.
We move forward in line. “Hopefully. I might be doing a collab with a pretty big YouTuber.”
Their eyes widen. “Who?” they ask in unison.
I tell them I shouldn’t say, and they start rattling off names. When they say Alyssa Huntington, I give my best poker face—but it fails miserably.
“Oh my God!” Eric says. “I love her! You two would rock a collab!”
I lift my index finger to my lips and smile. “Don’t tell anyone. Nothing’s official yet.”
Eric puts a hand over his heart. “Your secret is safe with us.”
The five of us chat while we wait, then I take a few selfies with them, and before we know it, we’re all climbing into the castle.
Inside it’s dim and disorienting, and Tay grabs my hand. Jamie launches forward, bouncing so hard it sends us into the air.
Eric and Jayesh bounce by us hand in hand, then Jamie flies toward us, missing us by an inch and landing on his face. Tay reaches down to help him up, and all of us are laughing so hard we can’t talk. The three of us jump around in a circle, holding hands and spinning too fast for people who just had breakfast. I notice Tay keeps letting go of my hand to hold her shirt down, and I hope she’s not feeling too self-conscious. But the smile on her face tells me she’s having fun, even if she is. As everything blurs around me, I think I see a familiar face in the crowd outside. I’m so distracted I lose my footing and slip onto my butt with my head still spinning.
I reach up and slap Tay on the thigh. “Hey, am I seeing things, or is that…?”
She gasps and falls to my side, trying to catch her breath. “Alyssa … Huntington … outside!”
Jamie sits beside her, still laughing.
“Alyssa Huntington is right there,” Tay says. “She’s watching us.”
She’s far away, but she sees me. I can tell by her smile. “I should probably wave or something, right?”
Tay and Jamie nod, so I wave. Alyssa waves back, and I hear Tay squeal.
“Get the hell out there!” Tay says.
“Nah,” I say. “We’re hanging out. I’ve gotta go do the panel in, like, five minutes anyway.”
Jamie wonkily stands up and proceeds to bounce so close to me that I’m soaring into the air. “I’m gonna keep doing this until you go talk to her.”
Tay laughs and stands up to join him in pushing me out of the castle.
“Okay!” I say. “I’m going, I’m going. I’ll see you after the panel.”
“Cool,” Tay says, edging me farther outside. “Go get her!”
Alyssa says something to her handler as I walk toward her. The handler nods, and Alyssa takes a few steps forward to meet me.
“Hey,” she says with a flirty smile. “You look like you’re having fun.”
I point my thumb toward the castle. “You should get in there; it’s like being a kid again.”
“I would, but I’m on my way to a fan meet-up.” She looks back at her handler, who gestures to his watch, and she nods. “You wanna come?” She says it casually, but the way she watches me and waits for an answer makes me think there’s nothing casual about it.
I frown and slide my hands into my pockets. “I can’t, sorry. I’ve got a panel for The Rising soon. I should probably make my way to the green room.”
She shrugs it off. “That’s cool.”
I desperately want to see her again, so I push away my nerves and go for it. “But I’m free later today, if you still want to do that collab?”
A wide smile spreads across her face. “Love to.” Her handler steps forward and taps her on the shoulder, and she takes a step back. “I’ll text you.”
I let out a happy sigh. “Okay, great. See you later!”
She winks. “Can’t wait.”
I watch as she walks away, replaying her sexy wink over and over in my mind.
* * *
I take a seat at the long table, impressed that whoever provided my nameplate managed to spell my name right. I smile and wave at the crowd as they cheer for us.
The crowd quiets down, and the moderator begins the discussion. Tim Richards, the director of The Rising and its upcoming sequel, is seated next to me. Reese is supposed to be here, but Mandy told me he’s unwell. The audience has been told he has another commitment, but really he’s sleeping off the beer. Whatever the reason, I’m glad to finally be free from him.
Sitting here in front of all these fans, I feel both honored and completely out of my depth.
Just be cool.
The first question is addressed to Tim.
“Is it true that there will be a sequel?”
“Yes.”
The audience cheers for at least thirty seconds. Once it’s quietened down again, he continues. “We’re very excited to announce that there will be a sequel. I’ve read the screenplay, and I’m very excited about it.”
Question number two is for me, and they waste no time getting to the topic that’s on everyone’s minds. “Charlie, will both you and Reese be returning for the sequel, even though you’re no longer an item?”
I smile, trying to hide my nerves. “I’ll be returning for the sequel, but Reese won’t be.” I get the feeling she wants me to elaborate, but I end it there.
Tim leans forward. “I’m assuming everyone here has seen The Rising, but in case you haven’t, I’m about to give away a major spoiler, so cover your ears.” He waits, and a few people cover their ears. “Reese’s character, Will, died at the end. He won’t be coming back—zombie or otherwise.”
A few chuckles can be heard in the audience. The moderator ushers in the next question, which is for me: “What do you think of all the fans who still support the Chase ship so strongly?”
I bite my bottom lip and shift uncomfortably in my chair. “I find it very flattering that the fans care so much about us. We shared so much of our relationship with the fans, and the fans really
connected with that. A lot of those fans felt like they were a part of it—which I understand, because I’ve felt that way about couples myself—but when we broke up, I was surprised to see people so devastated. People uploaded YouTube videos of themselves crying. It was really hard to see.” I clear my throat. “I just hope everyone can move on, because I’m really happy. And it’s no secret that Reese has well and truly moved on.”
The audience laughs. I probably shouldn’t have said that.
Just then, I spot Alyssa poking her head through the staff doors at the back of the room. She grins and gives me a wave before disappearing again.
Her pop-in was so quick that I wonder if I imagined it, but then my phone vibrates on the table, and I see a text.
Alyssa: Couldn’t stay, on my way to another meeting. You look good up there. The spotlight suits you;) I’m free in an hour if you want to do the collab. Hilton Hotel, room 546.
If I wasn’t on a stage in front of over a thousand people right now, I’d do a happy dance.
CHAPTER 13
TAYLOR
About ten minutes after Charlie leaves, Jamie and I climb out of the jumping castle, exhausted but energized from laughing so hard.
“Where to now?” I ask, surveying the crowded street.
“Come on,” he says. “I’ve got something I want to show you.” He leads me back into the main hall and past the many aisles until we reach the end. “I saw this when I was looking at the SupaCon map earlier. Stand right here and close your eyes.”
He gently covers my eyes with his hands and turns me around. His touch makes my heart dance. He removes his hands. “Open.”
My eyes snap open, and I see a narrow, winding aisle packed with people. An archway at the entrance reads FIRESTONE LANE in gold cursive letters.
I squeal. I decide here and now to never hold back my excited squeals again.
“Holy awesomeness, Batman! I read about this on the SupaCon blog last week. It’s even bigger than I imagined. Do you want to go in?” I ask him, my eyes wide and pleading.
His lips pull up into a smile. “Do I want to spend the next five hours watching you gaze lovingly at all the swag in there? Sure, why not.” He nudges me. “Of course! Why do you think I brought you here?”
I squeal again. I reel my smile back and put on a serious face. “Come with me if you want to fangirl,” I say in my best Arnie voice, and then I laugh at my own hysterical wit.
He shakes his head and laughs. “Okay, Taylornator. Just promise me you won’t overdose on Queen Firestone swag,” he jokes. “I don’t know CPR.”
I take his hand and pull him toward Firestone Lane. “I can’t promise anything.”
Stepping under the arch is like walking through a portal into another world—my favorite world. “It’s like we’re in Everland! At the village market!” I clap my hands rapidly and begin a slow walk past the booths, wanting to soak in every bit of it. Everything is so beautiful that I don’t know where to look first. Two little girls engage in a sword fight in front of a booth selling cosplay daggers, swords, and armor.
“I am the one true queen!” one yells.
“Nuh-uh!” the other argues. “I am!”
I stop at a table covered in silver jewelry and gemstones, picking up the ones that sparkle the brightest.
“Tay!” Jamie calls, and I glance around to see him poking his head out of a rack of clothes across the lane. “So much swag!”
I hurry over, ecstatic to find dozens of Firestone shirts in my size. After some serious browsing and decision-making, I choose three: two black graphic tees with Queen Firestone on them and one long-sleeved tee that says SKYLER IS MY ONE TRUE QUEEN.
I look in my wallet, trying to figure out how much I can afford to buy. “It’s a good thing I left room in my suitcase for purchases.”
We wander up and down the lane for another hour, until we’re so hungry we can hear our stomachs over the crowd. On our way to the cafeteria, Jamie stops me.
“Tay, look,” he says, nodding toward the comic book section. He lights up with excitement.
“Let’s check it out,” I say, knowing comics are to him what books are to me. We make a beeline for the nearest aisle, and he’s instantly drawn to the Marvel booth. I keep walking and find Artists’ Alley. I notice a familiar girl sitting quietly behind a table lined with a colorful selection of graphic novels and go in for a closer look.
The girl eyes me nervously for a moment, then smiles. “Hi.”
“Hey!” I say, suddenly remembering who she is. “Remember me? Taylor? I minded your spot in line at the Skyler signing.”
Recognition flashes in her eyes. “Oh, right! Hi!”
I pick up one of her novels. A girl with glasses is drawn on the cover, standing in superhero pose and smiling. From the title, it appears her name is Valentina, and the writer and illustrator is credited as Josie Ortiz. “Wow, you made this?”
She gives me a warm smile. “Yes.”
I stare at the cover, in awe of her talent, but the words along the bottom make my heart stop: The world’s first graphic novel starring an autistic female protagonist!
I hold the book out excitedly. “Shit! This is about an autistic girl?”
“Yeah,” she says. “It’s loosely based on my life.”
I do a double take. I want to leap over the table and hug her, but I hug the book instead. “Um,” I start, dragging my nails down my arm gently. “I have autism spectrum disorder, too.”
Her eyes light up. “Oh, really? Are you an Aspie girl, too?”
I nod and look down at the floor. “Yes. I’ve never met another Aspie girl before.… I mean, that I know of. I guess I probably have, just not another girl who knew she was on the spectrum.” I’m rambling, so I stop myself. “Does that make sense?”
Josie giggles a little. “Yes, it makes perfect sense.” She stands up and steps closer to the table. “I actually just spoke about this on the Diversity in Media panel. When did you realize you’re on the spectrum?”
“Only about six months ago. So it’s still very new to me. I’m a bit confused by it all.”
She seems to know exactly what I mean. “Yep, it can be an adjustment. I found out about two years ago, and I’m still learning. I was misdiagnosed with bipolar first, then my therapist suggested Asperger’s, and it all just kind of clicked.”
“Yeah, it was similar with me,” I say. “I started seeing a psychologist to help with my anxiety, and she figured it out.”
She breaks into a knowing smile. “I’ve got anxiety disorder, too. Mostly social anxiety, and complex PTSD from being bullied as a child.”
“Really?” I ask. “But you just said you did a panel in front of all those people—”
She lets out a sigh and nods. “I know. I almost vomited before it started.” I must be staring at her with a panicked expression, because she laughs. “It’s okay. I didn’t vomit.”
I shake my head. “I could never do anything like that.”
“I thought the same thing right up until I was sitting on the stage. But I adore my art, and it was such a great chance for me to show it to people. And I love SupaCon and feel welcome here—so that helped. My excitement won, and it makes the anxiety something I’m willing to put up with for today. But on other days, the anxiety, the meltdowns, the PTSD, they’ll win. But not today. I just try to focus on that and take good care of myself, especially after. Social hangovers suck.”
“Social what?”
“Social hangovers. It’s like a normal hangover, but instead of being caused by too much alcohol, it’s caused by too much social exposure and overstimulation of the senses.”
I gasp. “I totally get those!”
She giggles. “Yeah, I think it’s pretty normal for people on the spectrum or with anxiety.”
“How do you cope with it?”
“Well, I’ve tried everything. Medication and therapy are great. I tried natural therapies, too. Yoga, acupuncture, meditation, aromatherapy. And a lot of i
t helped me relax. But it wasn’t until I joined a few fandoms online and started taking illustration seriously that my anxiety really started to become easier to manage. It sounds so clichéd, but once I started doing more things that made me happy, it made everything else a little easier to deal with.”
I hold my palms up. “Wait … are you saying that geeking out helps you cope?”
She nods. “Like nothing else.”
I shuffle side to side for a moment, trying to think of what to say next. I want to keep talking to her; there’s so much I want to ask, and then it all just surges out of me. “At first, I hated it. I felt like there was no hope, that no matter how hard I try, I’ll never fit in and everything would always be hard for me.” My bottom lip starts to quiver, but I keep going. “I fight every day, and too many times it’s just not enough and the fear wins. I’m so fucking weak and everything is so fucking intense and sometimes I really hate it.”
I gasp, covering my mouth with my hands as the tears pour out of me. I didn’t mean to say all that. I feel exposed.
Tears fill her eyes, too. “Can I hug you?”
I nod, unable to speak. She walks around the table and hugs me. “I get it. Believe me, I know exactly how you feel.” She lets go and steps back, wiping her eyes. “But please, please don’t say that you’re weak. You are not weak. People like us”—she pauses to clear her throat as more tears spill from her eyes—“we’re brave. We’re the ones who get up and face our worst fears every day. We keep fighting.”
She crosses her arms and glances away. She’s getting frazzled, and it’s my fault.
“Let’s say…” She pauses, looking back at me. “Let’s say someone is terrified of heights, and in order to get out of the house every day she has to walk across a tightrope from fifty stories up. Everyone would say, ‘Oh, she’s so brave. She faces heights every day.’ That’s what we do. We walk a tightrope every day. Getting out the door is a tightrope. Going grocery shopping is a tightrope. Socializing is a tightrope. Things that most people consider to be normal, daily parts of life are the very things we fear and struggle with the most, and yet here we are, moving forward anyway. That’s not weak.” She reaches out and takes my hands. “We are the brave ones.”