Ms. Greenhill hands my mom a manila folder full of papers. We’re standing in a back room, just off the stage where I won the contest. It’s blank, with no furniture or anything on the walls. Empty.
“This is our itinerary, including where we’ll stay, when we’ll travel, and all the events and media interactions over the next few days. Take a look and make sure you can agree to all of this. If it looks good to you, we have some releases for you to sign regarding using Claire’s photos and likeness in our media campaigns.”
Mom flips through the papers, her brow furrowed. Oh no, I can tell already she’s taking this way too seriously. “And what are we talking in terms of financial compensation?”
“Mom!” I hiss at her.
“Honey, I’m only asking. Haven’t I taught you it’s always important to ask for things?”
Ms. Greenhill smiles patiently. “We don’t have anything in the way of that. This is a contest your daughter won. The compensation comes in the form of meals, lodging, and, frankly, a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
My mom puts a pair of reading glasses on. I know she can’t see anything farther than about two feet away with them on, but they do make her look Smart and Sophisticated.
“But isn’t it true, Ms. Greenhill, that my daughter was ‘selected’ for this contest”—she puts fake quotes with her fingers around selected—“after asking a particularly pointed question at a Q&A?”
My eyes bug out of my head. I can’t believe my mother is playing hardball with the woman offering me the Trip of a Lifetime. But also… it is weird that I won this trip, out of everyone at the panel today. Why me? Was this more than just a coincidence?
Ms. Greenhill shakes her head. “I assure you, Mrs. Strupke, your daughter is merely very lucky.”
My mother stares Ms. Greenhill down, and for a moment I’m terrified Mom is going to make this into a big deal and they’ll take it away from me and I won’t get to go. And I really, really want to go. No matter how I feel about Forest and what they said to me earlier. If I don’t go I’ll always wonder. I have to go.
As subtly as possible, I stick my elbow into Mom’s side, and she breaks her deadlock eye battle. “Hon, this is something you want, right?”
“One hundred per-freaking-cent,” I say.
She nods, turning back to Ms. Greenhill. “Okay. Let’s talk specifics. What’s the situation with the hotel rooms?”
And Ms. Greenhill starts to get into it. Mom has a lot of questions about how many school days I’ll miss, and what’s the deal with the saunas in each city, and how close the Vietnamese food is, and how much downtime she’ll have, because she’s beginning a series of oil paintings of vulvas disguised as hotel-painting-style landscapes, and she’s hoping to be able to do some research while she’s there, so long as she’s not needed 24/7. And I know she’s only half kidding about the saunas and the Vietnamese food, but she’s also half serious and Ms. Greenhill is treating every question like it’s a nuclear disarmament negotiation, promising to get answers back immediately.
Forest disappeared directly after we left the stage. I’m starting to get the impression that he, well, hates me. And I have to take a beat to remind myself that Smokey is not Forest and Forest is not Smokey and everything is going to be okay and, oh my god, I just won this and how is this actually happening to me?
I look over Ms. Greenhill’s shoulder and see the Bowl of Holding sitting on a table behind her. Since she and Mom are deep in it right now, I’m able to easily duck away and check it out. It’s large, about the size of a mixing bowl. In the show, it’s an ancient artifact, first uncovered by old-timey archaeologists, then stolen by conniving demons looking to use it to open the demon portal to help usher in the apocalypse, then chased down and ultimately recovered by Smokey. Now the bowl is empty, and I wonder where all the people’s names went from inside it. Slowly, I reach out and pick it up. It’s lighter than I thought it would be, and I find that instead of stone, it’s made of plaster and painted to look like stone. It’s fake. But of course it is. The Bowl of Holding never existed, it was just dreamed up by Jamie and his writing staff for the show.
But I’m still touching it. I have the Bowl of Holding in my hands and it’s real and it was in the show and now it’s here. It doesn’t seem possible that this thing that I have seen on my screen a hundred times before could be here in my hands, but it is. And my name was in it.
“Hey, Claire,” a voice says, and I turn to see Jamie Davies coming up to me. I scramble to put the bowl down on the table.
Dear god. This is really happening. The creator of Demon Heart knows my name. I hope he doesn’t say anything about me touching the props. It seemed like it would be okay! I concentrate on not locking my knees so I don’t faint.
“Hi, Mr. Davies,” I say.
“Jamie, please. Jesus, no one calls me Mr. anything,” he says, looking horrified. “I just wanted to say, ah, well, thanks, I guess.”
“Thanks?” I’m not sure what he’s getting at.
“Yeah,” he says. “It’s nice to have so much support from LGB…T…Q… A fans,” he says slowly, like he’s trying to remember all the letters in the acronym.
“Oh…” I start. Crap, does he think I’m gay? I don’t know how to correct him. That’s not me, I just happen to think Smokey and Heart are in love. That doesn’t determine my sexuality.
“I love the subtext you guys pick up on in the show,” he says.
“The subtext,” I repeat, frowning, trying to understand.
“Between Smokey and Heart,” he says, rubbing his face with his hand. “I think it’s great.”
“So it’s intentional?” I ask. This feels like a 180 from what Forest said at the panel earlier.
“All we do is make a show,” he says. He flips his hoodie hood up so it covers his shaggy dirty-blond hair. “It’s up to you guys to figure out where we’re headed.” He yanks the strings on his hoodie so it constricts around his face. He looks like Elliott from E.T., but old.
My heart thumps in my chest with what feels unexpectedly like hope. “So, wait. Are you going to make them gay, or not?” I have to know. I can’t keep following this show if they’re just going to toy with my emotions, but it also feels like Jamie might actually get it. Is it possible? Can this bro have really made a show about a gay demon hunter and the demon he loves?
Jamie smiles at me like he knows a secret that I don’t.
“No spoilers,” he says.
Then he winks.
Then he walks away.
And I’m left standing there wondering WTF just happened.
Was that… confirmation? Is he telling me there’s a chance that they could get together? But then, why did Forest act all weird? Maybe it’s the long-term plan and Forest doesn’t know yet? Mulder and Scully didn’t get together until, like, season seven…. Maybe he’s stringing us along with the slow build.
I have no idea. My shipper heart is too weak for this. I need a long nap.
My mom, having signed all the necessary papers, joins me.
“We’re good!” she exclaims, full of positivity for the world and all that it offers. “Ready, honey bunny? We leave in the morning!”
Am I ready?
“That Forest is so cute,” Mom says as we head back to our room. “Forget Obama, I ship myself with him.”
I barely hear her. Tomorrow my dad is dropping off my Social Studies textbook and homework assignments, and clothes for Mom and me for the trip, and then we’re getting on a bus to go on tour with the Demon Heart guys. Me. On tour. With them. There’s a pit in my stomach as I consider that I might have to talk to Forest again.
I follow Mom into our hotel room as I try to ignore the growing knot of anxiety. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Mom asks.
“We’re going on the road to faraway big cities,” I say. “I mean, I could end up doing drugs.”
“The important thing is you have fun.”
“Maybe I’ll have sex. Or get a tattoo. Anything could happen! I could get pregnant!”
“Those all sound like important life benchmarks.”
“I could get a B,” I say, more realistically.
“Your father is going to speak to your teachers and they’ll email you any assignments you don’t already have. Don’t you even worry about that.” At this point, so close to the end of the school year, I would have to actively try in order to get a B in any of my classes, but I don’t say that. I’ll do all my work. I’d hate to miss something interesting.
Mom pats me on the back. “And if you want a tattoo, you know all you have to do is ask. I’d be happy to go with you.” She really is the worst mother sometimes.
“I need a shower,” I say.
I take a long shower and let the tension release from my shoulders. When I get out, I towel off and put my hair up in a second towel, and I put the toilet seat down and I sit in the heat and the steam and the privacy of the bathroom and look at my phone.
It’s been three hours since I won the grand prize, and that photo of me the Blazer Chick took is already up on the official Demon Heart social accounts for Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram, and yes, Tumblr. I might have hoped that no one would put it together that the very lucky girl who won was also minorly famous fanfic author heart-of-lightness, except that my account is tagged in all the posts.
My stomach drops. I just went from internet nobody to Big Name Fan in nothing flat. I didn’t really think about the fact that this might happen, but there’s no turning back now. I steel myself and scroll through my mentions. They’re a mess of people wondering who I am, what’s going to happen, and what it means for SmokeHeart fans that one of their own was selected for this. They’re sharing the video of me from the panel asking my question and then leaving the hall in tears after Forest’s smug answer. They’re wondering the same thing I’m wondering: is this purely a coincidence, or is there a connection between me asking the question and me winning? A lot of the messages are supportive, but some of them think I should never have bothered Jamie and the cast with my ship. Some of them think fandom should stay in fandom, and canon should be canon, and never the two shall meet. Some of them think I’m an “entitled teenage bitch.” Some of them think I’m a hero.
I have two thousand new followers.
Hands shaking, I log out.
So. Now everyone knows who I am and they all want different things from me. But what do I want?
First of all, I don’t know if I want to get on a bus to Portland in the morning with the entire Demon Heart team, including Forest Reed. I’ve already put myself out on a limb once, and he shot me down. Do I want to do it again?
Maybe some of those Tumblr people are right. Maybe I should let fandom stay in fandom. I never asked to win this prize. Although, deep down, I know that it can’t possibly be an accident. Whoever’s in charge over there, that Ms. Greenhill woman probably, figured out who I was and decided I would make a better ally than enemy. And now I’m just taking their little handout like a patsy? They probably think they can woo me with a bunch of VIP experiences and Rico’s dreamy eyes and I’ll do whatever they want me to and say whatever they want me to.
So what do I want?
I want SmokeHeart to be canon. I want a SmokeHeart kiss on the show. And I want the whole world to see it. There’s a whole community of fans who want the same thing, including Tess. But none of them have the access I have. I can’t just throw away this chance. I’ve been given the tools to actually make a difference. How can I put them down and ignore them just because Forest Reed might laugh at me again?
Whatever. I don’t need his acceptance. I just need him to do his job: act what’s in the script.
And who writes the scripts? Jamie Davies and his team of writers.
So that’s it, then: I’m going to be the one to convince Jamie Davies to make SmokeHeart go canon.
At the crack of dawn the next morning, I’m rolling my suitcase across the hotel lobby, following my mom. Through the glass doors, I can see the charter bus waiting outside. Forest hands his bags to the driver to put underneath the bus and climbs aboard. I’m really doing this. I’m really getting on a bus with Forest and Rico, and I’m going to pretend that’s super normal.
When we get to the bus, Mom says, “Now, I gotta sit up front or I’m gonna get carsick and nobody wants that. You sit wherever you want, okay?”
“Yup,” I say as she hands her bags to the bus driver.
“Okay, honey bunny. I’m excited!” she says, and climbs the stairs.
As I hand my bag to the driver, I hear the thwick-thwack of running flip-flops hitting the pavement. I turn and see Tess rushing toward me. A smile spreads across my face so fast I can’t stop it. She’s wearing a charcoal-gray jumpsuit that looks really classy while also seeming really comfortable. I try not to dwell on what she looks like, since this might be the last time we speak.
“Holy shit, heart-of-lightness!” Tess says, a little out of breath, finally catching up to me. “I caught you!”
“I was hoping to run into you again!” I say.
“I literally cannot believe you won this contest. I literally… I can’t even!” She gestures broadly, taking up the space around her with her excitement.
“I know, me neither,” I say.
“Are you nervous?” she asks, and at first I think she means am I nervous to be talking to her, which is ridiculous. What, just because I found out she’s pansexual? That doesn’t make me nervous.
“You know…” she says. “Like, what all are they going to have you doing?”
I realize she means am I nervous about the trip. Of course I’m nervous. I’m about to get on a tour bus with Forest and Rico. What if I say something wrong? What if I fart? What if Forest decides to humiliate me publicly again? Anything could happen.
“I’m always nervous,” I say, and she laughs.
“My whole dash is talking about you, by the way. You’re, like, famous now.”
“Yeah, I, uh, noticed that,” I say.
“Is that weird?”
“So weird,” I say. “But it’s going to be worth it if I’m going to get anything done.”
“What do you mean?”
“I decided last night. I mean, I’m closer to Jamie Davies on this trip than any fan has ever gotten. I have the chance to convince him to”—I lower my voice—“you know, make SmokeHeart canon.”
She furrows her brow at me. “What?” she says. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why? I thought you shipped it.”
“I do, but I’m not going to tell Jamie Davies what to do with his show.”
“His show?” I can’t believe what she’s saying.
“We have our fanfic. We don’t need it to be canon,” she says.
I stare at her. “Of course we do.”
“Why?”
“Not for me, or for you, but for… for all the kids out there who are watching the show and didn’t even know that someone like Smokey could be gay.”
“But it’s not a kids’ show, Claire.”
“Then for teenagers, whatever! Not everyone reads fanfic, Tess. Do you know how many people this show could reach?”
“Okay, okay, fine.” She throws up her hands like I’m coming at her, but she’s the one who started this. “Do what you gotta do.”
I gape at her. I thought we were on the same side.
“Well, uh, I guess let’s hang out in Portland?” she says, and it takes me a second to compose myself and realize what she’s saying.
“Wait, you’re going to Portland?”
“Hell yeah, and Seattle, too!” she says. “I got a sleeping bag in my car, fifty bones in my pocket, and a Wizard Rock playlist for the road. Demon Heart road trip!”
“You’re… sleeping in your car?”
“Yeah, totally. I wouldn’t miss these cons for the world. But don’t tell my friends.” She laughs. “They all think I’m visiting my grandma in Pho
enix.”
“Wait, you didn’t tell your friends?” I thought that was the whole point of friends, that you told them things.
“You kidding? I wanna still have a social life when I get back from this. I mean, if they knew I was a groupie for Demon Heart…” She trails off. Too unspeakable to even think about, apparently. “Why? Do your friends know where you are?”
I pause before answering. “Everyone knows.”
At least, everyone on Tumblr.
“Whoa.”
Yeah. “I’ll see ya.”
“Damn right.” She gives me a wave and starts off toward her car. I can’t believe she’s on this trip, all on her own, just because she loves the show that much. How cool is that? Tess is honestly unlike anyone else I know.
Then, over her shoulder, she shouts, “I hope you find someone to sit with!”
Well, great. I didn’t even think about that. I take a breath as I look up the steps to the driver, and then gather myself. No big deal. Just sitting on a bus with Forest and Rico. I can do this. I climb aboard.
My mom is sitting in the very front seat, reading her paperback novel, but I’m not going to sit up here with her. Behind her, a few of the seats are full with Ms. Greenhill’s entourage. Farther back, I see Jamie, working on his laptop. Near him is Caty, who I met yesterday. She’s got on a red plaid shirt with a blue plaid bow tie and it’s the most extreme look, but I’m into it. I consider sitting with her, but she’s got her bag out next to her and her laptop open, and she seems hard at work. Sitting together toward the back are Rico and Forest.
My heart zips just seeing them again. Right here. On a bus. With me.
Rico’s in the middle of telling Forest some story that I can’t hear, his hands gesturing animatedly, his eyes all lit up. Forest is laughing along, not taking his eyes off Rico. I can’t turn away from them. Their proximity, their ease with each other… My heart lurches. Do they know how they look?
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