If viewers come to my channel in buttloads, I need time for them to start liking me for me, and then maybe I can keep at least a single buttload of them. I already have a plan for bringing viewers to my channel; the time part is in Lainey’s hands. If she brings down Code before his fans have time to become my fans, she’ll be bringing me down, too.
I guess what I need most is time.
“Look, I’m fine with you posting the video, and I promise I won’t tell Code about it, but I need something from you in return. I need you to wait.”
She taps her fingers on the arm of the chair. “How long?”
“I don’t know. A few months? No more than a year.”
She grimaces. “I can’t let Cody keep doing this for a whole year.”
“Not a year, then. Just . . . six months. Please.”
She counts the months on her fingers, and I count along with her. April, May, June, July, August. “September,” she says aloud, then simply sits there, thinking.
I want to jump in, to give her a hundred thousand arguments, but instead I force myself to hold my breath. To give her time to consider. Time. Except then I can’t stop myself. “Please. It’ll really hurt my channel if you don’t wait.”
She looks up at me abruptly and narrows her eyes, like she’s suddenly suspicious I’ve been reading her emails or stealing her snacks. “How would it hurt your channel?”
The answer seems obvious to me, but perhaps she hasn’t been following all the CodeShadow drama. “Right now, I only have as many subs as I do because of Code. If he loses them, I probably lose them.”
“Collateral damage,” she mutters under her breath, and a fist of fear wraps itself around my heart. Has she decided to go ahead and drop that bomb on Cody’s channel, blowing up my own as a result?
But then she says thoughtfully, “I guess it’d be nice to have moved away for school and not have to worry about Mom kicking me out of the house when it happens.”
My baby skunk heart leaps. “Yes, exactly. And you want time to do a good job with whatever you’re planning to post, right? Don’t let your anger make you half-ass it.” I could hurt myself with this argument, I realize, since if she does a good job screwing over Code, it could screw me over, too. But I have a VIP pass around my neck, a well-used Sharpie in my purse, and fans who took time to see me, to ask me questions. I have to have faith in my channel, in myself. I have to have faith that my fate won’t be entirely dependent on what happens with Code.
Lainey looks over her shoulder, and it takes me a moment to follow the direction her head is pointing, to weave my gaze through cosplayers and LotSCON tote bags and the line that’s moving into the auditorium, and finally figure out what she’s looking at.
There’s a giant poster of Code on the wall. There’s one of Legs, too, and of Wolf, and of a team of LotSCON developers, but she’s definitely looking at the one of Code.
“Those are all guys,” I say.
“What?” She turns back to look at me.
“The posters on the wall. Code, Legs, Wolf, all those developers—they’re all guys. Have you seen one of Gray anywhere? Or Aureylian? I haven’t. I mean, Gray and Aurey aren’t as famous, so that explains it, sort of. But . . .” I trail off, not saying the words I want to say. That I want to be on that wall. That I just want a chance to be on that wall. That I just want time.
She must hear the words I don’t speak, because she says, “And you promise you won’t tell Cody? You won’t tell him for those entire six months?”
I look her right in the eye, trying to convey how seriously I mean it. “I promise.”
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll wait.” She stands to her feet, then points a finger at me. “But six months, no more.”
I stand, too. “I can work with that.”
And I can.
We head back to the little circle of our friends, where Legs is saying his goodbyes. He gives me a hug, even though he only met me yesterday, and my heart soars and dances on a million banana splits. Maybe because my favorite YouTuber just hugged me. Or maybe because Lainey said she’d wait, and now there’s nothing standing in the way between me and Plan Make Shadow Famous. Well, my half of Plan Make Shadow Famous, at least.
After Legs and Lainey leave, Z and Gray and Marley and I spend the rest of the afternoon standing in line for the LotS expansion voting. Marley and I get into an in-depth discussion about our favorite teas (mine is this loose-leaf tea my mom gets called Vanilla Cupcake that tastes like birthday cake), and then we take turns picking out our favorite cosplay in the room, and it feels nice to not think about Code or YouTube or my impending decision for a while—you know, aside from when a guy comes up and asks for my autograph, but I’m not complaining about that.
He asks for Z’s and Gray’s autographs too, and then he asks Marley if she’s a YouTuber, and we tell him that she is, but she apparently hates lying, because she admits that she isn’t. But then he asks for her autograph anyway, which sets us all grinning. There are good people in this world; that is a fact.
When we finish voting—Wolf’s right, the skyrift is the best one—Gray and Marley wave their goodbyes and head off, and Z and I head back to the VIP room to meet Code and the rest of the guys for dinner.
“Good afternoon?” Z asks as we near the VIP room.
“The best,” I reply. My shoulder knocks into his. With every step, my fists tighten with anxiety over what I’m planning to do.
Why the heck am I so nervous? I’m going after what I want.
Though I suppose that’s exactly why I’m so nervous.
“You leave tomorrow?” Z asks.
“Yeah. I drove here, though, so I can leave whenever.”
“Oh, good. So we can go for breakfast in the morning or something. With the guys, I mean. If they’re up.”
“With the guys,” I echo. Maybe none of them will be up in time, and Z and I can go out just the two of us and talk about our separate channels. Maybe my plan will work, and we can talk about more than that.
When we get back to the VIP room, the rest of the guys are already there. We join Ben, Wolf, and Noog at the couches and chairs in the corner. Code wanders over from the coffee station.
Code is on one side of me, Z on the other.
“Can I talk to you?” I ask. I was planning to wait until dinner, but suddenly waiting seems foolish. The sooner the better.
“Sure,” Z and Code both say at once.
“She means me,” Code says, because he thinks the entire world revolves around him.
“Actually, I mean both of you. All of you.” I wave my hand at the group of them. “I want to talk to all the Meisters. Aside from Oz, of course.”
“Poor Oz,” Z says. Then he hops over the back of the couch and settles onto it between Noog and Wolf. “Guys, Shadow wants to talk to us.”
They all turn to look at me. Wolf, Z, Noog, Ben, and Code. I have the Meisters’ attention.
My palms feel clammy as I lean my baby skunk self against a chair. I’m nervous, but I have to do it. I have to.
Unless you’re Jennifer Aniston or William Shakespeare, fame isn’t a boulder. It doesn’t stay, gradually eroding from the wind and the rain, but still lasting for thousands of years.
Fame is a grain of sand on a beach, washed away with the coming tide. It’s here and then gone, sometimes in months or years, sometimes in just minutes.
How long will it take for Codemeister fans to get tired of shipping us again and move on to someone else, some other ship? Six months? Two days?
And what will happen to my channel then? Will I lose my new subscribers? Stop gaining new ones? Have no hope of doing YouTube and streaming as a career? I’m not an idiot. There are thousands of teens like me, hoping to break into the industry. There are no guarantees, only hard work, luck, and big breaks.
I’ve had my big break already; now I have to decide what I’m going to do with it.
I force my hands to stay still and folded and calm. This is it. “I have a
proposal for you all,” I say.
Noog whistles, and Z smacks him.
“Not that,” I say, crinkling my nose. Ugh, definitely not that. “My proposal is . . . I think you should make me a Meister.”
Code laughs, then cuts off when I don’t.
“The Meisters are guys, Willow,” Noog says. “Unless you’ve got a penis under that skirt—”
This time Wolf reaches an arm across and smacks him.
“Would you guys stop hitting me!” Noog practically shouts.
“Stop being a doofus and we will,” Wolf says.
“Hear me out,” I say, holding up a hand.
I look at them each in turn, setting out the arguments I’ve been thinking through all afternoon. For Wolf, who’s big on facts and numbers, I set out the hundred thousand subscribers I had before and the hundreds of thousands I have now, and how my channel is in a rapid climb. I look at Noog as I emphasize that a higher proportion of my subscribers are women, so I’d be bringing more female viewers on board, which makes him whistle again, which makes Z look like he wants to hit him again, though he doesn’t. I make it seem like as the sole Canadian, I’d be bringing in all sorts of Canadian viewers, too, though I don’t know how much that’s true.
I talk about the drama factor of it, and the excitement of bringing in the very first female Meister, and how epic and exciting it would be for viewers. “Look how obsessed viewers have become with shipping me and Code,” I point out. “It makes good content.”
“It’s going to be awkward if you start dating Code,” Wolf speaks up. “What if you guys break up? What happens then?” He’s all business, weighing the pros and cons.
He’s right. A breakup could be not just the end of a relationship, but the end of my career. They’d boot me back out of the group without a second thought.
It’s not Code who I’d be interested in dating, though. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Z, with his mess of hair and arms that seem too long for his body, his adorable grin, his ridiculous toaster fights and friendship with absolutely everyone. And I’ll admit it: I want to kiss him. And I’m pretty sure he wants to kiss me, too.
Which means that I should risk it, right? You’re supposed to risk everything for love, and trust that it will all work out.
But I don’t believe in soul mates. I don’t believe love is the only force in the world that makes life feel like a delicious banana split. There will be other people I want to kiss. There will be other chances.
Joining Team Meister, on the other hand, is a genuine once-in-a-lifetime chance. It’s the opportunity that I’ve been dreaming of, that I’ve been working so hard toward.
“Let me make this clear,” I say, raising my hand for emphasis. “I will not be dating any of you. Not Code, not anyone, not even Ben.” Everyone laughs at that, because he’s so old that absolutely no one pictures us together. “People can ship any of us they want, and you don’t need to burst their bubble by telling them this, but so we’re all on the same page, I will not be dating any of you under any circumstances.” I meet Z’s eyes for only a moment, and something passes between us—regret? Sadness? I let the feeling sit in my stomach only briefly before pushing past it. I have my whole life to fall in love; I only have right now to turn this little bit of fame into a whole lot more. “So? Am I in?”
“We’ll have to vote on it,” Code says. “We can let you know.”
I nod. I expected that. It’s why I asked Lainey for six months instead of only a couple. Even if it takes them a while to decide, I’ll still have time to make my hordes of new Team Meister viewers fall enough in love with my channel that they’ll stick around even if the most famous Meister goes down in flames.
Will the other Meisters support him? Disown him? If I’ve made enough of a name for myself by then, not dependent on shippers or anything else, it won’t matter. I’ll be able to make my own choices. You might say I’m foolish for joining them when I know what’s coming, but given the choice between fame with complications or no fame at all, I choose the former.
They’ve all grown quiet as they consider my words or maybe just think about what they want for supper, but then Z almost shouts, “I vote yes!” He grins at me, and it’s the type of grin that lifelong friendships are built on. I grin back.
Wolf nods. “Me too.”
My heart skips in my chest. I had thought the worst-case scenario would be a month, the best maybe tonight after dinner. I didn’t expect it to happen right here, right now.
“Don’t you want to discuss it?” Ben asks. “Think it through?”
Wolf shakes his head. “I have thought it through. I think it’d be good for the brand. Not my problem if my brain works faster than yours, dude.”
Ben laughs. “Well, if this guy’s on board, that’s good enough for me. He’s the brains of this operation.”
“I thought I was the brains of this operation,” Code says, which makes everyone laugh, though judging by the delay before Code joins in the laughter, I don’t think he meant it as a joke. Code turns to Noog. “What about you, man?”
“Dude, girls!” Noog says.
“That’s a yes, right?” Wolf asks.
“Hell yeah it is.”
“All right then,” says Code.
Wolf stands. “The people have spoken. Let’s go out for dinner and celebrate our new member.” Which I guess means either Wolf is taking Code’s “all right then” as a yes or Code has no voice here.
“Oz’ll need to vote, too,” Code says as he stands, but we all know it’s a formality. I’m in. I’m part of Team Meister.
Holy bananas.
Holy banana bread with chocolate chips.
Holy banana Nutella smoothie with whipped cream on top.
I did it.
As we walk to a restaurant, Wolf walks on one side of me, rambling about how we shouldn’t go public with it yet, because we can do some kind of video series ramping up to it, and as Z chimes in with ideas on the other side of me, his shoulder bumps mine, and there’s the tiniest flash of melancholy in my stomach.
Just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by pure joy. I am working my butt off to become someone, to make a name for myself, and it’s actually happening.
I bump Z’s shoulder right back.
Then I turn to face them all, walking backward. “One more thing,” I announce. “Just so we’re clear, my name’s going to be Shadowmeister, not Willowmeister.”
I don’t wait to see if there’s agreement, because agreement’s not required. I walk to the restaurant with my baby skunk tail high and proud. This is my life, and I’m making it happen.
Epilogue
Lainey
I POST THE VIDEO TO CODY’S CHANNEL AT 7:10 A.M. ON THE SECOND WEDNESDAY of September. Cody normally sleeps until noon, but someone must call him and tell him, because by 8:43 a.m., the video is down. It’s too late, though; the world has seen it, has downloaded it, has sent it flying around the internet.
I expect an immediate swell of outrage, a plunge in subscribers, the beginning of Cody’s hard lesson learned, but it’s more complicated than that.
Cody loses a crap-ton of subscribers, but he gains subscribers, too—people who’ve never met him, never even watched his channel before, but who come out of the woodwork to defend him because they’re sick of “these witch hunts.”
And if Cody learns something from it, I can’t tell from the insults he screams at me over the phone. I stop taking his calls, and Mom’s too, though I don’t stop hoping that someday, when the dust clears and the immediacy of his hurt has passed, I’ll see a change in him. The good kind.
Legs never comments publicly on it all, but three days after the video goes live, he posts a video of his own, highlighting his top ten female and POC gamers worth watching. It’s so very Legsian, his way of lifting up where others tear down, and I love him for it—even as I know that if I had to do it all over again, I would.
Noog and Ben can’t stop themselves from jumping to Cody’s d
efense, and they face mini firestorms of their own—Noog more than Ben, since every word he says only digs himself deeper into a hole.
Wolf, Z, and Oz are all silent at first, but then they start taking a page out of Legs’s book and, when forced to comment on Cody’s misogynistic comments, simply remind people to lift up female gamers “like our own Shadowmeister.”
When I ask Shadow if she engineered that bit of marketing brilliance, she shrugs and smiles, and I’m not sure how I feel about that, but we still talk sometimes.
Shadow, for her part, makes a single comment in a single video about how she’s used to sexist comments in the gaming world, but that she chooses to focus instead on the people who support her and love her and who have, in her words, “big and beautiful hearts.” That same day, she posts a video of herself, Z, Wolf, Ben, and Oz doing a rift run together and taking out a shadowdragon in impressively quick time, and it all goes too fast for me to really know what’s going on, but Legs tells me that Shadow’s the one calling the shots, the general over her cheering, happy troop. And the meaning seems clear to me and to anyone else who’s reading between the lines.
They don’t kick Cody out of the Meisters. When I ask Z why, he simply says, “It’s complicated,” and as I read another comment featuring one of Cody’s subscribers blindly defending him, I guess I have to admit that’s true.
I hope it’s worth it anyways. I hope it makes a difference.
One evening in October, when the leaves are vivid yellows and oranges, I’m hanging out at Legs’s place, studying for a history exam at one end of his kitchen table while he answers fan mail at the other.
For a break, I decide to watch a video Legs sent me earlier, and when I click on it, there’s SamTheBrave’s face—a surprise since, according to Legs, he never shows his face in videos or on streams. Even the Cody video didn’t feature his face, because in the end, despite Legs’s arguments, I couldn’t bring myself to put his clip in. Six months of working on the video gave me more than enough clips, and even though Legs has posted about SamTheBrave’s videos multiple times, the kid still only has ten thousand subscribers—which he seems thrilled about, but which still makes him a complete nobody compared to Cody. And if the clip had caused him more harm than good, I’d never have forgiven myself.
Fan the Fame Page 24