by Danika Stone
Liv popped her head around the corner, snatching up the bag before it could soak through. “Smells good.”
“Hope it tastes as good,” Katherine said. “Missed lunch because of the presentation. I’m starving.”
Liv peeked inside the paper bag as she headed to the kitchen. She groaned.
“Mom, you know I hate fried chicken.”
Her mother gave a long-suffering sigh. “I had a coupon, Liv. Two can dine for—”
“I know, I know. It’s just greasy and gross and—”
Katherine set her laptop bag on the floor next to the table. “I thought you said it smelled good.”
“I did.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Liv slumped in her chair. “It’s the thought of it I don’t like, Mom, not the smell.”
“Then pretend it’s something else.”
Liv lifted the corner of the first lid. “Not working.”
“Oh, Liv. Just work with me. All right?”
Liv put spoons into the paper tubs and took an extra helping of coleslaw. (You could survive on coleslaw, couldn’t you?) Her mother nudged the chicken toward her, and Liv took the smallest piece in the tub.
“How was your day?” her mother asked.
Liv made a production out of picking off the chicken skin and dabbing the meat with a paper towel. The action gave her time to collect her thoughts as she forced herself to return to the hours she’d spent volunteering in the audio lab. She was surprised to realize she could barely remember it. With Spartan’s death still hanging over her life, nothing else felt real.
“All right, I guess,” Liv said, adding a scoop of potato salad. “Made it through.”
Her mother patted her shoulder absently. “That doesn’t sound good, Liv.”
“Just distracted by things.”
“Fandom things?”
“Er, yes.” Liv shrugged. “You know how it is.”
Her mother pursed her lips and pointed at Liv with a spoon. “You’re not still going on about the ending of that Starveil movie, are you? Goodness, Liv, you don’t have time to get wrapped up in the fandom nonsense.”
It was an argument they’d had many times during senior year, when her mother was focused on Liv’s grades, but Liv was so busy vidding at night she could barely stay awake during the day. It had come to a head almost one year ago when Liv’s crash-and-burn SAT score had destroyed any chance at a full scholarship. Widow’s pension and student loans it was.
When Liv didn’t reply, her mother leaned forward, frowning. “Liv, I don’t like the sound of this.”
“But I didn’t say anything!”
“You didn’t have to,” her mother said. “You’ve been moody all week. You’re hardly eating.” She pushed another piece of chicken onto Liv’s plate. “It’s like you’re in mourning.”
“I am!” Liv snapped. “Spartan died, Mom. It was a terrible ending.”
“It’s just a movie, Liv. And I don’t want fandom to affect your grades.”
“But we’re on winter break. Classes haven’t even started.”
“You know what happened last year when you got involved.…”
Liv knew better than to argue. Her mother equated fandom with Liv’s dismal high school performance. Liv had thought that the university—and a tech program—would change her mother’s mind about vidding.
It hadn’t.
“Can you pass the fries?” Liv asked. Katherine nudged the container toward her daughter, and Liv rushed to fill the silence before the argument could restart. “So how was work?”
Katherine put down her fork. “Good enough, I guess.”
Liv opened her mouth to keep the diversion going, but Katherine was faster. “Liv, about this whole Spartan thing … I just think you’re old enough to let it go.”
“Meaning what?”
Her mother’s expression grew hard. “Meaning it’s time to move on.”
“But I don’t—”
“You need to grow up, Liv. Fandom messed up your college plans already. I don’t want it to—”
“I’m in college! I’m doing fine!”
“You’re doing fine now, but what’ll happen if you go off track again?”
Liv surged to her feet, chair squealing. “Then I guess that’ll be my life I screw up. Not yours!”
In seconds, Liv had her coat on and was out the door, running down the street to the bus stop. She blinked in the icy air, eyes burning.
If anyone could make her feel better, it’d be Xander.
2
“I AM A LEAF ON THE WIND.”
(SERENITY)
Xander was cashing out his till when Liv arrived at Cup O’ Joe.
“Give me five minutes,” he said with a wave. “Just got to switch over for Marcy.”
“No problem. I’ll wait.”
She scanned the interior, searching for spots.
Situated in downtown’s Pearl Street outdoor mall, the coffeehouse was a hippie enclave left over from the sixties. Mismatched chairs and tables congregated in groups. Dark wood, textured pillows, and buttery leather chairs gave the interior an intimate feel. According to Xander, the owner had declined at least five buyout attempts by chain coffee shops, but Liv had never been inside until she and Xander became friends in early September. In the months since, Liv had become a fixture. Cup O’ Joe was her personal hangout when being at home was too cloying (or too lonely).
Tonight, the café was packed. Shoppers in search of postholiday deals filled the seats near the windows; boots and hats cluttered the coatrack. Liv’s mouth turned down in irritation as Bing Crosby’s voice echoed through tinny speakers:
“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know…”
“Christmas was ruined,” Liv grumbled as she spotted a pair of empty chairs. “And MRM is to blame.”
She tossed her bag onto the floor and sat in the faded recliner. Feeling somewhat conspicuous, Liv pulled out her phone.
She scanned the Starveil posts, her mood darkening. Spartan had been a part of her life since elementary school. Losing him felt like having a piece of herself torn away. No amount of fix-it fics or alternate universes could change the fact that her one true character had died. A woman paused next to Liv’s knee, disrupting her thoughts.
“Is this seat taken?”
“Yeah, it is.” Liv lifted her bag and set it on the seat. “My friend’s just getting our coffee now.”
The woman wandered away and Liv peered to the counter, where Xander was counting receipts. She groaned. The line for coffee now stretched all the way to the door. Her gaze returned to the phone’s glowing screen. In the last minutes, a new discussion had appeared on the Starveil board, and Liv read through it.
Post 239, @StarVeilBrian1981:
I remember how I felt when I watched Serenity, and got to THAT scene. I never thought I’d feel that sort of pain again, but losing Spartan destroyed me. I tried to go to work today, but I could barely get out of bed. Spartan’s dead. He’s gone. Does that even feel REAL to anyone???
Post 240, @JoesWoes:
I finally saw Starveil Five today. Went alone to a matinee so no one would see me if I had a breakdown. A good choice.:(Even being spoiled, the ending ripped my heart out. How could MRM set his fans up like that? All the story needed was for Spartan to have a way out. Even ONE of the damaged shuttles near enough that Spartan and the kid could make it inside. I didn’t even care that Elysium got destroyed. But there was no need-NO NEED-to pull a Joss Whedon.
If I could have five minutes with MRM face-to-face, I’d … I’d … Well, it’s probably better I don’t have five minutes with him. I’m so angry, I can barely breathe. Fandom is the only thing holding me together. D: This is the worst day ever.
Eyes swimming with tears, Liv glanced up from her screen to discover Xander had finished cashing out. He grinned at her and mouthed “almost done.” He traded his black apron for his signature brocade waistcoat
and shook it out, a subtle transition occurring as he slid it up his arms, buttoning one-handed: The cappuccino-wielding waiter had been replaced by a Regency rakehell.
He lifted two steaming cups from the counter, weaving his way through the café to her side. Their eyes met, and Xander’s smile evaporated.
“Hey, whoa! Are you okay, Liv?”
“No. Not really.”
He set the cup next to her elbow, moved the purse off the chair, and sat. “What happened?”
His concern had tears prickling her eyes. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to steady. “You saw the ending.”
Xander stared at her, an expression of confusion hovering over his features. “The ending of…?”
“Of Starveil Five.”
His shoulders relaxed, and he slumped back into his chair. “Ah, yes … ‘the ending.’” He put air quotes around it. “Dear Captain Spartan’s untimely demise.” He shook his head. “Seemed a little melodramatic, but I suppose it is space opera, after all.”
Liv tried to answer, but no words came out. Her throat ached. She had no intention of bursting into tears at Cup O’ Joe, but if she kept thinking about Spartan, it was definitely a possibility.
Xander’s voice dropped. “I take it you’re still upset over it?”
“Yes,” she croaked.
He nudged the cup closer. “Would caffeine help?”
Liv gave him a wobbling smile. “Couldn’t hurt.”
For a minute, they sat in companionable silence, the bustle of the café mixing with the strangely out-of-date carols. Liv wasn’t happy—couldn’t be happy after Spartan!—but she wasn’t alone anymore. Liv liked having someone to sit with, someone you didn’t have to explain things to, someone you could be honest with without fear of judgment, someone—
The telltale sound of pinging interrupted her thoughts. Xander pulled his phone from the voluminous folds of his shirt, the device glowing like a rectangular ghost.
“Arden says ‘Hello, Liv.’”
Liv rolled her eyes, but Xander—busy typing his reply—missed it.
“You want to say anything?” he asked.
“Tell her I say hi back.”
He laughed to himself, and Liv looked up. (She hadn’t meant that to be funny.)
“Oh, Arden.” He chuckled, grinning down at the screen as his thumbs tapped in another answer. The phone pinged again, and he laughed louder. “You naughty, naughty girl.”
Liv made a gagging sound.
Xander looked up. “What’s wrong?”
“It’d be nice if my best friend could stop flirting with his girlfriend long enough to comfort me.”
This time Xander rolled his eyes. “Dearest Liv … histrionics aside, I really think you’re taking this—”
The phone pinged again, and he looked down. A giggle escaped his pursed lips. He smothered the laughter under his hand, hiding it behind a bout of coughing.
Liv glared at the other patrons in the coffeehouse. No one understood.
* * *
@LivOutLoud: FANGIRL DISTRESS SIGNAL! Send help! I need distractions. STAT.
@JoesWoes: @LivOutLoud What kind of help?
@LivOutLoud: @JoesWoes Anything. Everything! I just want Spartan back in my brain, NOW. #RLSucks
@JoesWoes: @LivOutLoud You got it, sweetie! How about my new fic? I’m already at 5K. Think I’m going to break 50 on this one! Here’s the first chapter: http://tinyurl.com/Starveil1
@LivOutLoud: @JoesWoes It’s awesome but I’ve already read it. (Loving it, btw!)
@JoesWoes: @LivOutLoud Have you read @SpartanGrrl’s new fic? It’s equal parts angst and smut. SO AWESOME! Let me find you the link.
@LivOutLoud: @JoesWoes Sounds perfect. *swoons* Spartan take me away!
@SpartanGrrl: @LivOutLoud @JoesWoes You rang, ladies?:) Smut ahead! http://tinyurl.com/Starveil2
@LivOutLoud: @SpartanGrrl @JoesWoes Perfect! Thank you SO much! Please send anything else you have. I want it ALL!
@JoesWoes: @LivOutLoud @SpartanGrrl Woo-hoo! Looks like Liv’s back in the Starveil fandom! *fist bumps* #ItsAliveItsAlive
@SpartanGrrl: @JoesWoes Glad to have you back in the house! #SpartanSurvived fangirls FOREVER!
@LivOutLoud: @SpartanGrrl @JoesWoes Aw … ladies. You’re making me tear up.
@SpartanGrrl: @LivOutLoud You’ve been quiet the last while.
@LivOutLoud: @SpartanGrrl I have.:(
@JoesWoes: @LivOutLoud Well, I’m glad you’re back. We’ve missed you, sweetie!
@LivOutLoud: @JoesWoes I’ve been offline, but my heart never left. <3.
* * *
The Friday before classes began, Liv woke to the sound of voices.
“Liv?” her mother called. “You around?”
Footsteps crossed the floor in a distant part of the house. She sat up. Her forgotten laptop slid off her knees and headed for the side of the mattress, but she caught it one-handed before it hit the floor. Running a hand over sandpapered eyes, she squinted at the clock. It was twelve thirty, but with the curtains closed, she didn’t know if that meant twelve thirty in the morning or at night.
“Liv?” her mother called in a tense voice. “You awake?”
Not night then. Morning. She wrinkled her nose as the scent of day-old clothing hit her. She set the laptop aside and stretched. “Hold on a sec, I’m—”
“Liv!” her mother bellowed from just outside the door. “You awake?”
Liv jerked. She certainly wasn’t awake enough for that.
“Yeah, I’m up, I’m up,” she grumbled.
The door opened a crack, Katherine’s backlit silhouette appearing. “You need to get out of bed, sweetie. I know you’re on winter break, but it’s past noon.”
Liv stifled a yawn. She’d been up half the night reading Spartan fic. (All the fangirls were.) His death had unsettled the Starveil fandom like no other plot twist. Fan forums across the net were buzzing with grief-stricken posts.
Katherine frowned. “Are you sick, Liv?” she asked. “You look pale.”
“Couldn’t sleep last night. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Well, hurry, please,” her mother said with a sympathetic smile. “Gary brought over some lunch for us.”
Liv groaned.
Gary Blodgett was Katherine’s longtime boyfriend and the manager of the local printshop. Though Gary and Katherine’s relationship was lukewarm at best, they’d been together since Liv was in high school. Liv avoided talking to Gary if at all possible. Gary did the same for her.
“I’m not really that hungry,” Liv said. “You guys go ahead.”
“Come down and have a little. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“It’s Chinese,” Katherine said. “And I asked Gary to get extra cookies for you.”
A grin spread across Liv’s face. Chinese wasn’t her favorite food per se, but Chinese meant fortune cookies, and that part she loved.
“How many?”
Her mother laughed and closed the door behind her. “Five,” she called as she headed down the hallway. “But you’d better hurry up, or I’m taking them all.”
Liv found yesterday’s jeans and a fresh hoodie, dressing in record time. One foot was still asleep, and as she hobbled down the hallway, she heard Gary grumble: “Running late already. Should just start without her.”
“Please do, Gary,” Liv muttered.
When she reached the table, they were dressed for the outdoors. Liv’s mother wore the same serviceable black wool jacket she always wore. The one that was “too good to throw away” and made Liv feel guilty for asking for anything new. Gary, on the other hand, was a real-life version of Elmer Fudd, with his hunter’s cap and plaid jacket.
“You guys going somewhere?”
“We’re seeing a matinee,” Katherine said through a mouthful of noodles. “Hurry and you can join us.”
“Um…”
“It’s no bo
ther,” Katherine said. “We’d love for you to come. One last outing before school starts up again.”
Gary grumbled something inaudible, and Liv’s jaw clenched. This was why he annoyed her.
“I’ll think about it,” Liv said.
Lunch started in silence, the time-crunch giving them an excuse to keep discussion to a minimum. In a few minutes, Liv had carried her plate to the dishwasher. She reached for the Chinese food bag.
“You should thank Gary for the cookies,” her mother said. “He’s the one who picked them up.”
“Thanks.”
Liv fished out the five cookies and laid them on the counter. She ran her fingers over the plastic covers, a tingling sensation shooting through her fingertips. It was too strange for her to put into words. She’d never even told Xander, and they’d been friends for months. But there were times the fortunes weren’t just words. And somehow Liv always felt her father was there when she opened just the right one. It sounded crazy because it was crazy. But it felt true.
She tore open the first package and broke the cookie to release the paper, smoothing it between thumb and forefinger as she read: Laughter is the best medicine.
With a grimace, Liv set it back on the counter. Her mother lifted her brows.
“Not mine,” Liv said.
“You always do this.” Katherine laughed.
“Which is why I always tell you to order extra.”
Her mother suppressed a grin as Liv opened the next.
A grand adventure awaits you.
Liv groaned and crumpled it up, grabbing another.
Your passions will bring you many friends.
Disgusted, Liv scowled at the remaining two cookies.
“You can have mine,” her mother offered. “I don’t mind.”
“Thanks,” Liv said, half-closing her eyes in concentration. “Just need the right one.”
Nothing happened for several seconds and then … A faint twinge, like a single spark, ran up her arm to settle in her chest. Liv grabbed the cookie nearest her and broke it open.
It’s up to you to make your happy ending.
Liv stared at it a moment, rereading the words. Did it mean life? Because if it did, then Liv disagreed. Sometimes life was downright unfair. Bad things happened to good people. Her father’s death was the perfect example.