Zoe Rosenthal Is Not Lawful Good Page 4

  “Did AMT write this episode?”

  “Yes, but there was also a cowriter on the credits. I’ll look it up.”

  “Did you notice they didn’t do that super-close-up on the bugs in the blood this time? It’s because AMT doesn’t want to cross the line when it’s not dramatically necessary. She thought maybe the virus got too gross at the end of last season. She said so in that season promo interview, did you see it?”

  “No! The grosser, the better.”

  “Sebastian! Sebastian Sweet, is it really you? Sebastian! ”

  The voice came from behind us. Sebastian didn’t seem to hear. I touched his arm. “Hey. Someone’s calling you?”

  I pointed backward in the crowd that was rapidly thinning around us to where a young woman was waving madly as she worked her way forward.

  Cam laughed. “Hey! It’s Captain!”

  “Amazing cosplay!” said Liv enthusiastically.

  The young woman coming toward us wore Captain’s battle headgear. She had realistic-looking laser hilts and futuristic syringes fitted into her black leather belt, and she wore Captain’s vest with its embroidered white-and-red medical insignia and the signature gloves, in red latex. (Captain never shows her bare hands.) Her figure was almost as curvy as Captain’s. The cosplay didn’t match only in that she was white, her hair wasn’t in cornrows, and she was way, way, way too smiley for Captain. Also, she had a guy by the hand who was wearing a blue-shirt Star Trek uniform, whereas Captain doesn’t touch anyone unless she’s doing surgery, or fighting, or killing. Obviously, too, Star Trek is another universe entirely, so Captain holding hands with a blue-shirt is just visually weird. Although I’d realized by now that this particular weirdness was one of the points of Dragon Con.

  Sebastian said, “Oh no.”

  “Sebastian, it’s really you!” the Captain cosplayer said, beaming, in a super-strong Texas accent. “Wow, that’s fantastic. I never thought I’d see you again, but here you are! Awesome.”

  Sebastian took a step back, away from her.

  The Captain cosplayer’s face sobered. “Sebastian, I—I have to tell you that I think about you a lot.” She paused, waiting, but when he didn’t answer, she added, even more tentatively, “Do you remember me? Melanie Delacroix? From high school?”

  “I remember,” Sebastian said.

  Melanie Delacroix, who was extremely pretty, smiled again. She gestured to the young man with her. “This is my boyfriend, Todd. He’s not a Bloodygit—or a Trekker, really—but he likes to do whatever I want, so here we are.”

  To this, Todd nodded genially and said simply, “Why not?”

  I tried and failed to imagine Simon accompanying me to Dragon Con in cosplay because why not.

  Sebastian was not interested in the boyfriend. He said, “You can’t be a Bloodygit! You’re a cheerleader.”

  “What?!” said Todd the boyfriend, arrested. “You are?”

  “That’s in the past,” said Melanie, with a toss of her head. “In high school. I’m on my college dance team now,” she added earnestly to Sebastian. “It’s much more me. I’m learning to choreograph.”

  Sebastian clearly did not care about this. A combative, angry expression had taken over his face. He said, in too loud a voice, “So somehow they let you into college?”

  I exchanged a concerned look with Cam and Liv.

  Melanie’s smile slipped slightly. “Yes . . .”

  “Meldel’s an English major,” the Trekker boyfriend told us, as if that had anything to do with anything. “I’m studying music tech.” He turned to Melanie. “What’s this about your being a cheerleader in high school?”

  She shot back at him, “What’s wrong with that?”

  “No, it’s cool.” He leered. “But you never told me . . . you said you were a nerd . . .”

  “I was a nerd. Secretly in my heart!”

  “If so, it was like a state secret,” Sebastian spat. He turned to Todd. “Nerd or cheerleader, the problem was that she was a truly terrible person. And she hung out with other truly terrible people, and they were truly terrible together. In uniform.” He glared at Melanie. “I was totally happy to never think of you or high school again. And I was having a really good time here tonight with my friends.” He gestured a little wildly at me and Cam and Liv. “I’m not talking to you anymore.” He pressed his lips firmly together.

  I blinked. Sebastian was here by himself—like me. And Cam and Liv, they had just met us. We were all strangers. But Sebastian clearly wanted—or needed—this Melanie person to think we were his good friends.

  Melanie Delacroix looked self-conscious and awkward, but she stood her ground.

  I met Liv’s eyes—and then Cam’s.

  So this is a thing that happens to me sometimes with Maggie, when we look at each other and we know we’re thinking the same thing. Here, it was simply that we would all support Sebastian. On faith. At least for now.

  So Liv said to Melanie Delacroix, “We hope you’re not going to upset our friend Sebastian. I don’t know what happened between you two in the past, but we were having a good time together here and we’d like to go on doing that.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Let’s just all walk away, okay?”

  “No hard feelings,” said Cam. “No drama.”

  I heard Sebastian exhale in relief.

  But Melanie didn’t move. She held out her hands. “But, see, I don’t want to upset him either! Or interfere with anybody’s good time. I just, I saw Sebastian, and I only wanted to say hello. And maybe, maybe . . .” She glanced over at her boyfriend and then back at Sebastian. “We’re older now. We’re in college. Where are you, Sebastian? Texas Tech?”

  “I am at NYU.” Sebastian’s mouth tightened. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I wanted to get as far away from Lubbock as I could.”

  “I wanted to get away too! I’m at UT Austin,” said Melanie. “That’s in Texas,” she added, as if Cam and Liv and I might not have heard of the capital of Texas.

  “What are you trying to say to Sebastian, Melanie?” asked Cam.

  By this point, the six of us were alone; the other Bloodygits had gone off, presumably to sleep or to do one of the seventeen dozen things you can do at Dragon Con at two in the morning. I suddenly realized that I’d seen my show, and therefore I could excuse myself. I could head to the airport and wait there for my morning flight.

  Only I didn’t want to leave the Bloodygits.

  Melanie said, “I meant—that is, I’d like to—oh, this is hard to say . . . but I have recently taken a fearless moral inventory of myself and I owe you an apology, Sebastian. I was—not nice. I want you to know how sorry I am and how much I regret it and that I am not that person anymore.”

  “What exactly did you do to him, Meldel?” asked Todd the boyfriend.

  “It wasn’t just her,” said Sebastian softly.

  “I don’t want to say. I’m ashamed. Do I have to say?” Melanie looked pleadingly at Sebastian.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. No.” A pause. “You’re really sorry?”

  “Yes. Yes, I truly am. I’ve prayed about it.”

  “Oh?”

  “I believe I was led here,” Melanie added earnestly. “Not just because my creativity demanded it, but also to see you and apologize.”

  Sebastian had been looking softer, but at this, he grimaced. “And I believe that kind of thinking is delusional.”

  Melanie smiled gently, forgivingly—infuriatingly, I thought. But at least she really was apologizing for whatever bullying—I assumed—she had done to Sebastian.

  Cam and Liv were whispering. Then Cam said, “So, Liv and I have a hotel room, thanks to our parents. We were going to invite Zoe and Sebastian up to hang out and talk about the premiere and have snacks. So Sebastian, what do you think about my inviting these dudes, too? You and Melanie can maybe talk privately, and then we can all talk about Bleeders. But not if you don’t want to.”

  M
elanie smiled gratefully at Cam and then looked hopefully at Sebastian. “I’d like that. If you’re willing. And I’m really dying to talk about Bleeders with you all, too. I don’t know any other fans.”

  Sebastian hesitated, then said to Cam, “Did you say something about snacks?”

  “Yes.”

  Sebastian smiled then. “Okay.”

  “Oh good,” said Melanie.

  “Cool,” said Todd the boyfriend amiably.

  Then suddenly we were all doing introductions. I made sure to say my pronouns, which led to everybody else doing it too. It went smoothly except that instead of just saying “he/him,” Todd bellowed, “I identify as a man!” and actually beat his Trek-uniformed chest.

  “Todd also identifies as immature,” observed Melanie without embarrassment.

  I wanted to giggle but managed to suppress it. I hoped that Liv wasn’t offended. I stole a glance but couldn’t tell. Liv was looking at Cam. Then we were all walking.

  I could have said goodbye then.

  But my plane didn’t leave until seven o’clock. And I’d certainly rather be with Bloodygits than alone at the airport or alone somewhere else at the con.

  So I went with them.

  I awoke on the rug in Liv and Cam’s parentally subsidized, air-conditioned hotel room. I was curled up, fully dressed except for my sneakers, with a pillow under one cheek and a blanket over me. Sunlight streamed onto the floor over my outflung arm. A stethoscope-garrote, Torrance’s iron frying pan, and my orange sneakers were inches away.

  I was clutching my phone, which was off. Because—I now recalled—I had powered it off to save battery.

  My last memory was of everybody talking. Including me.

  The others were still talking.

  “So the way I see it, Lorelei is basically amoral, and Torrance is too moral. But he also just doesn’t have any balls! That’s really what I object to.” This was . . . I squinted. It was Todd the boyfriend. He was lounging half on, half off one of the beds.

  “Don’t say ‘ balls,’ ” a now-familiar Texas drawl objected. Meldel. At some point before I fell asleep, Melanie Delacroix had insisted that she was to be called Meldel. She sprawled on the other bed, with Liv.

  “What am I supposed to call it? I’m not being sexist. Torrance is a guy. Cis-het, even. He literally has balls. Except he doesn’t have metaphorical balls, is my point.”

  “Torrance takes his do-no-harm oath seriously!” snapped Liv.

  “So you’re insulting the rest of the crew? All of whom are women who do have metaphorical balls?”

  “Is it really only about women?” Cam asked. “Tennah/Bellah is very obviously a they. That metaphor—if we’re going to talk about metaphors—could not possibly be more clear. Plus, you seem to be defining ‘ balls’ as being willing to kill.”

  “To kill enemies!” Todd insisted.

  Fear clutched my throat as I watched my phone go through its maddening cutesy start-up routine.

  “The problem is with the meaning of ‘ balls,’ ” Liv said with obvious patience. “It has a history of exclusion. We can do better.”

  “Disagree-e-e!” Todd said. “The word is bigger than its literal meaning. It is beyond gender.” He raised a half-eaten Twizzler in a toast to Meldel. “For example. Balls of steel has Meldel.”

  Twizzlers. That was what I could still taste.

  My phone informed me that it was 8:38 a.m.

  I almost threw up the Twizzlers.

  Instead, I looked around at the room full of strangers. They hadn’t felt like strangers a few hours ago, when we’d been talking and arguing. But now . . .

  How had I allowed this to happen? To me?

  “If you’re going to take ‘ balls’ away, then I need a replacement term,” Todd was insisting.

  “Something female,” said Meldel. “Yet sharp. Single syllable.”

  “Something that applies to everyone,” said Liv. “Non-gendered.”

  One blessing: Simon didn’t know I was here in this room with these strangers.

  “It absolutely has to be vulgar,” Todd said.

  “Granted,” said Cam, as Meldel nodded and Liv said, “Sure.”

  And Simon must never know.

  “We’ll have to invent something,” said Liv.

  “Femball?” said Todd.

  “That’s idiotic!” said Meldel. “And you’re not listening. Neutral!”

  “I may be idiotic and a bad listener, but I’m charming. You’re charmed by me.”

  Meldel sighed—and then giggled.

  “Actually, all of you here are charmed by me, even against your wills. I can tell. I’m the Celie of this little group. Meldel? Will you love me when I’m a girl? Will you love me more? Or at all?” He waggled his eyebrows up and down.

  Liv and Cam side-eyed each other. I agreed with what they were obviously thinking about Todd, ugh, but most of my attention was fixed despairingly on my phone as it presented me with a backlog of automated texts from the airline. These told the story of my folly: directing me to a gate, informing me that the flight was boarding, that the flight was closing its doors, what number I should call to reschedule, and that, in the event of rescheduling, there was a fee on top of the charge for a new flight, click link for details.

  I was about to click the link when another bunch of texts arrived.

  SIMON: Good morning sleepyhead!

  SIMON: Should I come by with bagels soon?

  SIMON: No rush but today’s voter registration shift is at noon.

  SIMON: You’re all better now, right? We need you today!

  I levered myself to a sitting position. Sebastian, on the desk chair, waved at me. “Zoe!”

  For a terrifying moment, I actually thought Simon could hear and see him. Me. Us. Here in this Atlanta hotel room.

  It was time to panic. Even Maggie couldn’t save me. She was offline all day today, doing—something. Something else family. I knew exactly what it was, but I couldn’t remember because my brain was frozen. Oh God. Oh God.

  “Good morning, Zoe,” Liv was saying, and the others said hello, and then Liv leaned forward. “Zoe? Are you okay?”

  “No,” I said. “I am not.” Thank you for noticing.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Sebastian.

  I looked down at Simon’s texts. Luckily, he’d sent them only a few minutes ago. Unluckily, I had no idea what I could or should text back.

  “Zoe?” said Cam.

  I said, “My life is over.”

  “Can it be over after the parade? We have to leave in ten minutes,” Cam said. “Our mom is saving us a spot near the Sheraton. She has muffins and coffee. You’ll feel better once you eat.”

  “I will never feel better,” I said.

  “Your mom is inviting all of us?” asked Sebastian. “Really?”

  Liv nodded. “Sure. You’ll like her. And our dad is marching. You have to see him. The parents are total geeks, by the way, in case that wasn’t easily inferred. Zoe, you want the bathroom before we leave?”

  “I’m not going to any parade,” I said. “You don’t understand. My life is over. Parades will not help.”

  “Coffee and muffins will, though,” repeated Cam. “And really, you don’t want to miss the parade.”

  “I don’t drink coffee.” I put down my phone. My hands were shaking. I buried them in my hair. “And I will never eat again. Also, I hate parades.”

  “Not this one,” Cam insisted.

  “I hate parades, too,” said Todd. “Especially if there are clowns. Will there be clowns?”

  I scrambled to my feet and gave them all the hairy eyeball. “Listen! This is not a joke! I was supposed to be on a plane home already. Only my best friend knows I’m here, but what’s most important is my boyfriend doesn’t. I was a total freaking liar about coming here, but I just had to see the Bleeders premiere, and I didn’t intend for anybody to ever know! But now I’ve missed my plane and my boyfriend just texted and he wants to come to my house with b
agels and I’m supposed to go do voter registration with him today. Because hashtag resist.” I waved my arms. “Only now he’ll probably text my parents and get them all upset, because he’s like super-responsible and he’ll be worried if he goes to my house and I’m not there, and so it’s all going to come out that I’m not home. And that I lied! I lied! Over a TV show! So, like I said, my life is over! Over!”

  I realized too late that I had screamed the last word.

  “Ah,” said Meldel.

  Ashamed, I cleared my throat. “Uh. Sorry.”

  “You’re a total sneakasaurus girl,” said Todd admiringly. “Awesome. Have a Twizzler.” He tossed the container to me. Automatically, I caught it and fished out a Twizzler and viciously bit its head off and only then remembered that I never wanted to eat a Twizzler again. I ate it anyway because sugar.

  “But your boyfriend isn’t even a Bloodygit,” Sebastian said.

  I glared at him. Then I looked pleadingly at Liv and Cam. “Can I just stay here in your room while you go to this parade? I need to figure out what I’m going to do. There’s got to be something—wait, I know, I’ll just go straight to the airport and find the next plane—I don’t know how I’ll pay for it, I’ll have to use my parents’ credit card—they’ll be pissed off—but I guess it’s an emergency—only it’s my fault it’s an emergency. Okay, I’m getting ahead of myself—first I have to text Simon! What do I say to him? Oh God.”

  “What’s he look like?” asked Cam.

  Grimly, I called up a picture of Simon on my phone and handed it over.

  “My ears and whiskers!” said Cam admiringly. “I quite see why you want to stay in with him.” Meldel tried to take the phone from him, but Cam held it out of reach, staring, until Liv held out an imperious hand.

  “Down, boy. He’s not for you.”

  “I’m just window-shopping,” Cam said, but he handed it over, and the phone then went from Bloodygit hand to Bloodygit hand.

  “And that’s just Simon’s outside,” I said smugly.

  Liv handed me back my phone. They had modified their Torrance costume by winding three different scarves around their neck. Liv said firmly, “First. Breathe.”