by Danika Stone
* * *
The first weeks of January spun past before Liv realized it. She hadn’t considered the sheer amount of time that an online revolution would require, and now every minute of every day was eaten away by obligations, every night by vidding. Any free time was spent replying to posts and building excitement online, all the rest taken up by schoolwork. She lived, ate, and breathed Starveil.
Even Xander noticed her distraction.
“I can’t believe you’re bailing on Mickey Dee’s. Who am I supposed to share trans fats and fandom woes with? My blue card still hasn’t shown up from Dragon Con yet. I’m getting anxious!”
Liv barely looked up from her computer. She had a @SpartanSurvived Twitter account to maintain!
“Sorry,” she muttered. “You want to get food?”
Xander’s hands rose to his hips. “That’s what I just said!”
“But it’s not even…” She squinted at the time on her computer. “Whoa! It’s ten thirty. When’d that happen?”
“You’ve been online for hours.” He twirled his pocket watch. “C’mon, Liv. For me. I need fries. They’re an addiction.”
“Why don’t you take Arden?”
“Arden’s working,” he said in a melancholy tone. “Besides, she hates fried food. And I want to go with you.” He knelt beside her chair, hand over heart. “My dear, sweet Miss Walden, I hope you will excuse the liberty I take in interrupting your vidding, but I know our bosom friendship will excuse any faults in my character.” He fluttered his lashes. “Please, Liv? I need fries. Please, please, please, please?”
“Fine,” Liv sighed. “Five more minutes, and I’ll come.”
He flashed a winning smile. “It’s a deal.”
Xander wasn’t the only one to notice Liv’s change of schedule. Late-night vidding began to compete with family obligations, too. Takeout became the rule. Her mother seemed determined to hold Liv to her promise of a movie night; and when Liv swore she didn’t have time to go out and see one, Katherine found an oldie station playing Gone with the Wind.
“We’ve seen that movie a hundred times, Mom.”
“Exactly. It’s our ‘thing,’ Liv. A mother-daughter tradition.”
“Not tonight, okay?”
“Fine. I suppose you have better things to do.” Her mother sighed as she headed to the kitchen.
“Mo-om,” Liv groaned. She hated it when her mother guilted her into doing things. “I’ve got to film some new clips, but Xander can only come over tonight. He’s working the rest of the week.”
Her mom stopped in the doorway and turned back around, mouth half-open. She looked like she’d just noticed something expensive in a store window. The glitter in her eyes was unnerving.
“You two have been spending a lot of time together. Is there something…?” Her mother let the unspoken question hang in the air, and Liv felt her face light on fire.
“Oh God, no. No! Jeez, Mom. There’s nothing between us.”
“You certain? Because it doesn’t look like nothing to me.”
“Xander has a girlfriend.”
Her mother put her hands on her hips. “A friend who’s also a girl, or one who he dates?”
“That he dates.”
“Well, it can’t be very serious then. I mean, you two spend almost every minute of the day together.”
Liv scrambled for a way to explain. “Xander’s helping me with a video project.”
Her mother’s face fell. “And you need to finish filming it.”
“And editing, and postproduction, and sound checks. I’ve got a lot to do. It’s a project for my film class,” she lied. “I have an extension to the end of the week.”
Her mother wilted. “You better finish it up then.”
Liv tamped down her guilt and forced a bright smile. “Thanks for understanding.”
“I do,” she said. “And I’m glad to see you’re doing better, Liv. You look … happy again.”
“I am.”
“And,” her mother added, “you’re focused on school again. That’s so good to see.”
Liv forced her smile not to waver.
“Thanks.”
The anticipation building online more than made up for the lack of sleep. A month into the project, hundreds of posts were coming in each day. Some of them had even been retweeted by a few of the secondary cast members of the Starveil franchise. (Tom Grander hadn’t mentioned it once. Liv knew; she’d been watching his online feed for weeks.) Nonetheless, Liv was certain the revolution had begun to have an effect, for each new day meant more buzz for the Starveil fandom. When Liv was finishing the tailored breeches for Xander’s latest cosplay (and Xander’s costuming project), Joanne sent Liv an online article that speculated the Starveil stars themselves were the forces behind the #SpartanSurvived movement.
@JoesWoes: @LivOutLoud Do you think it’s true?
@LivOutLoud: @JoesWoes Do I think WHAT is true?
@JoesWoes: @LivOutLoud That it’s Tom Grander behind #SpartanSurvived. That he’s trying to raise himself from the dead!!! Wouldn’t that be AMAZING?
@LivOutLoud: @JoesWoes But it’s not really Tom Grander who is dead, Joe. It’s his character, Spartan. #GetYourFactsStraight
@JoesWoes: @LivOutLoud Fine, Liv-but do you think it’s HIM doing it? OMG could you imagine Tom reading my fanfic??? I’d die, Liv!!!! Literally, DIE.
Liv giggled at the reply. For a second, she considered telling Joe the truth—they’d been fandom friends for years—but Liv had kept the ruse up for so long, it felt like she’d be undermining #SpartanSurvived if she did. This was real because fandom believed it was. She couldn’t risk the success of it now.
@LivOutLoud: @JoesWoes Trust me. Tom Grander has nothing to do with this.
@JoesWoes: @LivOutLoud Bet you ten bucks you’re wrong.
@LivOutLoud: @JoesWoes Ten dollars? You got a deal. ;P
* * *
“You’re going to the CU Mixer,” Xander insisted.
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Xander,” Liv warned.
“We’ve been back in classes for a month. How many times have you gone out in that time?”
She stuck out her tongue rather than answer.
“Exactly.” He threw open the doors of her closet and reached inside. “Enough of the hermit act. You’re coming dancing with me.”
“But I’m reading.”
“You mean moping.” He peered back over his shoulder. “Don’t think I can’t tell the difference.”
“Difference?”
“You’re pining for someone who isn’t real, dearest. That worries me.”
“I’m not pining, I’m…” Liv wanted to laugh, or cry. (Or both, she thought dismally.)
“I don’t like seeing you like this.” If he wasn’t at that exact moment rummaging through her wardrobe, Xander’s concern would have been touching.
“I can’t help it. I miss Spartan. And masterminding a revolution is a time-suck.”
“Exactly.” Xander nodded as if a decision had been made. “And a dose of reality is in order.”
“This advice from a college freshman carrying a cane?”
“It’s a walking stick, I’ll have you know.”
“Same difference.”
“Hardly. It’s fashion. Now, get ready. I’m taking you out.”
Liv groaned as Xander pushed his way into the overfull closet. T-shirts and jeans tumbled to the floor. “Sweet Jesus, Liv,” he sighed from the depths. “You realize this is a fire hazard, right?”
Liv peeked out from behind her laptop long enough to glare at him.
“Honestly, dearest, where are your dresses? Your heels? A body as lovely as yours requires adornment.”
“Don’t own any,” she grumbled, sinking lower in her bed. She’d been in an unpleasant mood all day, and Xander wasn’t helping. His impromptu makeover was making her feel like a freak.
“But you can’t go out in a T-shirt and jeans. You’re partying,
not housecleaning!”
“I’m not doing either,” Liv argued, but Xander talked right over her.
“You need sparkle. Dancing demands it!”
“If I looked like a stick, I’d wear something nice, but big breasts make it hard to dress up.”
A slinky black T-shirt she’d worn once then hidden away hit her in the face. “Pfft! Your figure’s perfect.”
“Not perfect for this century.” She wadded the shirt into a ball and whipped it back at Xander, hitting him in the head. He paused next to the mirror, smoothing his pomaded hair.
“I think you’re beautiful.”
Liv’s catty retort died on her tongue. “Y-you do?”
“Yes, of course I do,” Xander said, his reflection winking at her. “You ever seen the painting of Madame X?”
“I don’t think—”
“That’s you to a tee, Liv.” He picked the shirt off the floor and tossed it back at her. “Now move. It’s almost eleven, and I promised Arden we’d be at the club half an hour ago.”
“Arden’s coming, too?” Liv hated feeling like a third wheel.
“Uh-huh. She’s probably already there.” He disappeared entirely, and his voice came from the layers of fabric. “Should be lots of fun … dancing’s always a good idea, and you need a break from the computer.…”
Liv looked at the screen. Five hundred reblogs. Her e-mail was clogged with replies, but tonight the thought of it made her sad. So many people missed Spartan. She turned off the notifications.
From the closet came a shout of triumph; Liv looked up just as the wall of clothing surged and Xander burst from between the folds, dragging what looked like a shimmering silver facecloth. He held it victoriously aloft.
“A skirt! You’ve been holding out on me.”
Liv stared at it in confusion. She could vaguely remember the sparkly sequined miniskirt from some foggy middle school dance, which Liv had spent hiding in the washroom, overcome by anxiety. She hadn’t worn it in years. The skirt was far too small, the hem far too high.
“Uh-uh,” Liv said, pushing her computer off her lap and onto the bed. “No way. I’ll never get in it.”
Xander crossed his arms, the skirt dangling from his fingers. His jaw was clenched. “I’m not going out with someone dressed like my eight-year-old brother. Just try it on before you decide.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I’ll remind you that you owe me one.” A devilish smile curled his lips, his shock of dark hair and white shirt channeling mad, bad Lord Byron. “More than one, if you’re serious about filming another video.”
Liv snapped the laptop closed. “Fine.”
With a laugh, Xander dropped the skirt on the bed and stepped outside. “I await your return.”
* * *
Liv stood in front of the narrow mirror, frowning at her reflection. Long brown hair that hung smooth and flat, a body too curvy for her own comfort, and a face so average as to be bland. The shirt was okay, but the skirt left far more of her legs showing than she felt comfortable with. Tears welled, blurring her vision.
“Wrong century, that’s for damned sure.”
“Liv,” Xander called from the hallway. “Can I see?”
The line between her brows grew deeper. If it were anyone else, she’d have said no, but Xander was Xander. Ever since their first CU class together, when they’d been two outcasts, they’d clung to each other for comfort. Where most people made Liv feel weird, Xander was strange enough in his own right that she felt like the normal one.
“Nothing to see,” she snapped. “I’m not going dancing.”
The door opened a crack. “Are you decent?”
Liv laughed. “Keep talking like that and you’re really going to get my mom’s imagination going.” She tugged at the skirt, inching it lower. “Yeah, come on in.”
Xander crept back inside, his eyes widening.
“Oh God,” Liv groaned. “I told you I didn’t—”
“It’s perfect!” He grinned as he inspected the outfit from one direction, then the other, nodding to himself. “I knew, of course, but to finally see you out of your T-shirt-and-jean cocoon is quite refreshing.”
“So you like it?”
Xander’s eyes caught hers in the mirror. “Of course I do! Good lord, Liv,” he said with a snort. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t. This is hardly daring, but it’s a start!”
“I dunno, Xander.…”
His hands rose to his hips. “You don’t know what?”
She chewed her lower lip, staring uncertainly at the not-this-century woman in the mirror. The clothes fit, but there was so much skin. “I don’t know about this. I feel … exposed.”
Xander’s laughter suddenly faded. “Oh, Liv,” he said gently. “I’m so sorry I’ve upset you. I didn’t realize—”
“It’s not you; it’s me.” She let out a tired laugh. “I just don’t know how to be this.”
She could feel tears threatening to fall, her image in the mirror blurring. Xander stepped up next to her. She expected him to make a joke, but his words were quiet and sincere.
“You’re breathtaking. Seriously, Liv. Absolutely beautiful.” His vowels had softened, the nervous inflection slipping back into the conversation. “Truly, dearest, you are.”
“Thanks. I needed to hear that.” Liv grabbed her jacket off the bed and forced a smile. “Now, if we’re going to the mixer, then let’s go before I change my mind.”
Xander swung open the door and bowed. “After you, m’lady.”
* * *
Breathtaking.
That was the word, Liv decided, that had persuaded her to wear the ludicrous outfit, because no one—not the one, solitary boyfriend she’d had during high school, or the leering frat boys she avoided at college parties—had ever spoken to her with such reverence. Although her mother’s borrowed heels made her as unwieldy as a newborn moose calf, with Xander beaming down at her, she did feel beautiful. Hopefully she could make it through the night without breaking her neck.
By the time they’d arrived, Arden was gone. She’d stepped out for only a minute, Arden’s friends assured Xander. But when she didn’t return his first, second, or fifth texts, the truth became clear. She’d bailed on them for being late. Xander had looked so let down by his girlfriend’s abandonment that Liv had finally asked him to dance.
“Like dance here…?” Xander asked. “For real?”
“Yes, for real,” Liv snorted. “I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise.”
“I know, but—”
“But what?” she asked defensively.
He grinned. “I’m just surprised you dance. I thought it was against your religion or something.”
Liv laughed. “Philosophy, yes. Religion, no.” She shoved him toward the dance floor. “Now hurry up before I change my mind.”
He grabbed her hand. “Not a chance.”
Xander’s obsessing over nineteenth-century fabrics was the person Liv knew; Xander’s breaking it out to the latest alternative-rock song was a sight to behold. Liv couldn’t help but giggle as he tugged her out with him song after song, grinding to the beat, while the press of partyers grew into a mob. They were completely mismatched—Liv in her silver skirt and black tee, and Xander in his nineteenth-century garb—but she didn’t care. She floated on a bubble of pleasure. This had been a good idea (though she’d die before she admitted that), and the gloom that had hung over her since Spartan’s final moments seemed to fade.
Xander grinned and said something, but it was lost under the thudding bass.
“What?!” Liv shouted.
“Are you having fun yet?!”
“Absolutely!”
“Good!”
He grabbed her hand and spun her in a circle, the two of them laughing aloud as the song reached a fever pitch. Liv was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so alive, so happy, so—
“Xander! Liv!” a familiar voice call
ed. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”
Xander’s face broke into an even-wider grin. “Arden!” He laughed. “The prodigal girlfriend has arrived!”
“My roommate lost her keys,” she said with a shake of her head. “Just got back. Sorry for ditching.”
“No problem,” Liv mumbled.
Arden grinned at Liv before turning to Xander. Her hand slid possessively up his chest. “You ready to dance?”
Xander slipped into her embrace, Liv forgotten at the side. “Of course, m’lady.” He leaned closer. “You look utterly ravishing, you know that?”
“Mmm … thank you.” Arden pressed a kiss to his mouth. “You do, too.”
Liv turned away. She really wished they would wait until they were alone to do stuff like that. She had no idea where she was supposed to look when they were wrapped in each other’s arms.
She scanned the room. There were numerous acquaintances, but no one she felt comfortable enough to talk to. Without Xander at her side, she was lost. She dropped her gaze to the floor, her eyes catching on the silver miniskirt. There was no way she was spending another night sitting in a bathroom in this outfit.
She tried to pick up the rhythm of the music. (Girls could dance alone, couldn’t they?) But the motion of her body—supple seconds earlier—had grown wooden. The jerky bouncing finally disappeared altogether, and she stood alone, jostled by the sea of moving bodies. She peeked over at Xander and Arden. They moved as one, pressed together from hip to chest.
Liv stumbled as someone slammed unceremoniously into her back. She turned to find another couple pushing into her space. The man’s elbows and kneecaps were moving targets, and Liv jumped back as his heel grazed her shin.
“And … I’m done,” she growled. A wall of college students blocked her way. “Excuse me,” Liv grumbled as she wobbled off the dance floor. “I need to get past.”
A laughing young man with a bottle in hand stepped in front of her. He bumped her shoulder, and beer slopped onto her arm.
“Watch out!” she snapped.
“Hey, no harm, no foul.” He laughed as he continued on by, followed by a throng of girls.
“Excuse you,” Liv said, stepping around them.
It felt like wading upstream, and the crowd grew with each step. She reached the edge of the dance floor. Now she was caught between tables and leering frat boys who thought nothing of ignoring her face to admire her bosom. Liv crossed her arms and walked faster, pushing her way through the ever-thickening mob. The whole outfit was a nightmare.