CHAPTER 2

 

2000

 

It happened before I knew it.

Mom and Dad hosted small dinner parties all the time, so it wasn’t out of the norm for another family or two to be seated around our dining room table. I was halfway through a marathon of Gilligan’s Island reruns and a bowl of blueberry-topped bran cereal when my mother darted into my room, making a beeline for my closet.

I took a bite of my cereal while I watched her frantically rifle through my wardrobe. I pointed my spoon to the TV. “Can you believe how many clothes these people packed for a three-hour boat tour?”

My mother poked her head out of my walk-in closet. “Speaking of clothes, the Eaglemans are going to be here any minute.”

She and I had developed a form of conversation where we didn’t fully register what the other had said. We preferred it that way. “And I think the Professor just made a small nuclear reactor or something from fruits he found on the island.”

“That’s nice, dear,” she said from the closet. “What happened to that pink sweater set I bought you?”

“They have advanced technology on a deserted island, and I still have a flip phone. That’s a little something we in the business call irony.” I shoved another spoonful of cereal and blueberry-tinted milk into my mouth.

She came fully out of the closet this time. “You don’t have a business, Margaret. I really need that sweater set and your grandmother’s broach. Do you have any idea where they are?”

“I wish I could help you, but I’m busy marveling at how ancient my cell phone is. Why are you changing clothes anyway? You’re already dressed.”

She placed her hands on her hips, which meant she wasn’t fooling around. “I’m not changing clothes; you’re changing clothes. We have dinner guests tonight, and I want you to look your best.”

This caught my attention. I dropped the spoon in the bowl with a loud clank. “Objection! Permission to treat the witness as hostile, your honor! Looking my best wouldn’t include a bubble gum pink sweater and a pin that looks like a bouquet from the top of a coffin.”

She sighed and crossed her arms. “Have you been watching Law and Order again?”

“Only every day.”

“We’ve talked about your courtroom drama obsession, and that broach has been in my family for generations. They’re just plain flowers, so stop reading something somber into it.” She held two beige crewneck sweaters in her hands that I kept in the place of dishonor in the back of my closet. “The Eaglemans really are going to be here any minute. You need to be presentable.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I gestured to the clothes I wore as a bit of pastel milk dribbled onto my shirt.

She looked at my John Lennon T-shirt, unbuttoned flannel, ripped jeans, and blinking plastic necklace. “You can’t possibly expect me to answer that in the time allotted. Now where are those matching pink sweaters?”

She tossed the beige sweaters to the floor without putting them back on hangers. She was starting to get flustered, which meant this was important to her for some mysterious reason. I could work with this.

“Okay, I think we both know how this is going. You’re suggesting some ridiculous puritanical outfit, and we’re going to argue back and forth. I’m willing to offer you the pink sweaters and a non-ripped jean skirt. No broach and no headband. In exchange, I get a Blackberry. What say you?”

She extended her hand. “Deal. Just hurry.”

That was much easier than I expected, which should’ve been a big red flag.

The Eaglemans arrived exactly on schedule with their teenage son in tow. He had heavily gelled hair and wore a sport coat with elbow patches in a non-ironic fashion. Elbow patches. He looked like the kind of person who would use the word neato in conversation.

Luckily, I had become very adept at ignoring everyone at these shindigs and responded to questions with noncommittal answers. You could say it was my superpower. We were only on the soup course when my father announced that Barron Jr. would be attending Harvard next fall. I gave him a polite smile to show my support to this complete stranger.

“Don’t you have anything you want to say to that, Margaret?” my father prodded.

I used my preferred generic answer. “Well, isn’t that something?” I added another forced smile to imply sincerity. I don’t like to brag, but I was crushing this dinner party thing.

“He’s going into prelaw,” Mr. Eagleman Sr. added.

I widened my eyes and raised my eyebrows to convey how impressive this was.

“Don’t you want to know what kind of law he’s going to study?” My mother wore her smile that was reserved for company while she straightened out her pearl necklace.

Unless it was unicorn husbandry law or something mildly interesting, I really couldn’t have cared less. I could throw a rock and hit twenty lawyers on our street. I would never do that, of course, because that would invite a litigation nightmare.

“What kind of law are you going to study?” I parroted back.

“Contract law.” Barron Jr. smiled broadly, blinding me with his braces.

He was going into a field so boring it could put coffee to sleep. I repeated myelf, “Well, isn’t that something?”

“What classes are you taking this year?” Mrs. Eagleman asked.

I sipped tomato bisque off my spoon. “All of the required ones.”

“What’s your favorite course?” she inquired.

“The last five minutes of the last one.” I hated attention at these things.

My father cleared his throat. I pretended not to notice.

“What are your plans after prep school, Margaret?” Mrs. Eagleman seemed intent on engaging me.

I could see my mother out of the corner of my eye, trying to catch my attention. I purposely didn’t look at her. “I might go to college, or I might just skip straight to stripping. I could really go either way at this point.”

Both my parents started coughing while Mrs. Eagleman clutched her pearls. I would hear about that later. It might even cost me the set of spoons with Elvis’s face painted on the handle that was scheduled to be delivered tomorrow. It was worth it, though. My post-compulsory education years were a hot topic in our house, and I was a bit touchy about the subject. My parents wanted me to attend one of their Ivy League alma maters, whereas I wanted to take a year or two off to backpack across Europe and maybe explore costume design for science fiction movies. We were at an impasse.

We were finishing up our entrees before anyone dared to ask me another question. “Margaret, Barron has become quite an accomplished chess player. He finished fifth at the state level last year,” Mr. Eagleman announced.

“Isn’t that something?” My catchphrase was beginning to lose its luster.

“Do you play chess, Margaret?”

“No, I’m more of a gaming girl, Mr. Eagleman.” I used to love board games of all sorts, but once I found out I could go online and play games with people all over the world, three-dimensional games no longer held any thrill.

Mr. Eagleman scrunched up his eyebrows. “Well, I’m not sure what a gaming girl is, but I know Barron would be happy to teach you how to play chess.”

Barron Jr. locked eyes with me and pulled out his inhaler. It was then I realized exactly what was happening here. We were on a chaperoned date. This was my first set-up dance of an aristocratic mating ritual, and here I agreed to wear this dumb pink sweater set like a patsy. I narrowed my eyes at my mother, who had the decency to look sheepish.

“We’re going to check Margaret’s schedule and get back with you,” Mother declared.

I had been betrayed by my own parents. They knew I didn’t want to marry into this lifestyle. I had nothing in common with anyone here. Plus, I had plans. I wanted to see the world and travel with a band and learn meditation from Tibetan monks. I was also holding out hope I could be called as the next vampire slayer.

The remainder of dinner was mostly silent on my part. The Eaglemans left with the standard promises we wouldn’t all go so long without seeing each other again. The door closed, and I turned on my mother like a predator at a watering hole. Dad melted into the wall behind him. He liked his confrontation in the boardroom, not the dining room.

“Betrayer! I can’t believe you were trying to pimp me out like that.”

Mother put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic, even for you, Maggie? We only want you to meet a nice boy so you can settle down.”

I matched her posture. “I’m sixteen. I’m hardly in danger of becoming a spinster.”

She straightened her back and lifted her chin. “Yes, but you’ll want to settle down sometime and you need to explore your options. You don’t want to procrastinate and wait until the last minute.”

I started pacing to work out some of the angry energy. “Again, I think it’s a bit early to start making end-of-life decisions, and I don’t plan on ever settling.” I pointed at the front door as I said, “How could you think I had anything in common with Barron Eagleman Jr.?”

My mother crossed her arms. “He’s a nice boy who comes from a good family. What’s wrong with him?”

“Aside from the elbow patches?”

“Maggie!”

I put my hands back on my hips. “There’s nothing wrong with him technically. He’s just wrong for me.”

Mother’s posture softened. “You can’t blame a mother for trying.”

I went in for the kill. “I can and I will. This is going to cost you. I want Comic-Con tickets this summer.”

“Maggie, we’ve talked about this. You can’t go all the way to California by yourself. Plus, it’s in San Diego. You are not prepared for the kind of heathen activities that happen there. I won’t hear of it.”

“That’s why I’m not going alone. You’re going with me. It will be fun.”

“Never in a million years, Margaret.”

***

We flew commercial, which was easily the smartest decision I’d ever made. There were three Stormtroopers, one Batman, two Darth Mauls, and a Ninja Turtle on our flight. This was better than my wildest dream. My mother clutched her Berkin bag to her chest the entire time.

Since my mother had been a pretty good sport about venturing miles outside of her comfort zone, I didn’t fight her too much on not staying closer to the convention center. We shacked up at the Grand Del Mar, and she stopped exhaling so loudly. She put up a brave front for me, but I saw her pack extra hand sanitizer and tissues in her bag before we left the hotel the following morning. Her goal was to make it back home without an infectious disease, and mine was to make out with a vampire named Lestat. We weren’t exactly on intersecting paths.

I nearly wet my foil pants when we walked through the door. Everything was here. I mean everything. I wanted to live in this nirvana forever. Mom white-knuckled her pearls. This had to be her version of eternal damnation.

I got bumped from behind and turned to find a very realistic Han Solo giving me a once-over. “What are you supposed to be?”

Clicking my tongue in disapproval, I looked down at my foil costume and reached on top of my head to make sure my oversized mouthpiece was still in place. “I’m one of the musical instruments from the Mos Eisley Cantina in Star Wars: Episode Four. What else would I be?”

He looked my costume over again and walked away. I shook my head at my mother. “And he calls himself a fan.”

She pulled out her hand sanitizer for the third time in two minutes. “I don’t know how he looks himself in the mirror. Clearly you’re a cantina musical instrument thing.”

“Wow! Was that sarcasm from the great Mrs. Maxwell Foster Vincent the Fourth? Color me impressed. There’s hope for you yet.” My mother never spoke unnecessary words, and she considered sarcasm to be beneath any educated person.

“I’m making an exception while we’re on the West Coast. You must never speak of this again.”

I unfurled two foldable bags I had stuffed in my pants. “My lips are sealed. I brought an extra bag for you to carry our merchandise. We’ve got a lot of booths to cover, and we’re losing daylight. I need you to get on your game face. There are only two hours before our first panel, so stick with me. If you get lost, text me and I will come find you. Got it?”

She stared at me with no emotion. “I don’t know what any of those words mean. What is texting?”

I extended my hand in front of me. “There’s no time to explain. Now put your hand in.”

“Put my hand in where?”

“In the circle. Put your hand in.” I shook my hand to show her where.

“There are only two of us, Margaret. How can we make a circle?”

I put my other hand on my hip. “You’re ruining it, Mother. Just put your hand on top of mine.”

She put her left hand on her hip. “I’ll do it, but I’m still not conceding that this is a circle.”

She placed her hand on top of mine. “Break!” I yelled, tossing my arm up in the air. Hers fell limply back to her side.

“I feel like we had a moment there. Nice job.” I crinkled off to the first booth I saw, hoping she was behind me.

***

By day three, my mother’s hands were so chapped from sanitizer overuse, I was afraid they might fall off. Our hotel suite was so full of merchandise and promotional material that it would have to be shipped back separately. I hadn’t stopped vibrating with excitement since the week before we left home. I couldn’t tell you what day I had slept last. I was afraid to even blink, for fear that I might miss one millisecond of this beautiful chaos.

My mother’s system wasn’t handling the new diet of processed food well at all. There wasn’t a green vegetable in sight. Nothing could be cooked to order. It seemed like all of the meat was on a stick of some sort. I would die before admitting it, but my body wasn’t accepting the change quietly either. I might have to put myself on a transplant list for a whole new digestive tract. It wasn’t feasible to leave the venue for every meal since I had booked our schedule solid. However, I might actually murder someone if I had to eat another salted pretzel and call it lunch.

My stomach was grumbling around midday, but I had overheard two kids talking outside the bathroom that George Lucas might make a surprise appearance during the day. I had trained for this my entire life. There was no chance I was missing that. My mother, on the other hand, was at her breaking point.

“Maggie, I can’t take much more of this. I need a real meal with real silverware at a real restaurant with a better than C grade from the health inspector.” She had both hands on her hips, so there would be no discussion.

“I really want to stay for just a little while longer.” Not that I wouldn’t try to barter.

“How about we split up for a bit, and you can show me how to do that testing thing so we can find each other later?” She was clearly starving and in a weakened mental state.

My eyes widened. I was going to run loose through the San Diego Comic-Con and maybe even snatch a clump of George Lucas’s hair? Was I dreaming? I needed to compose myself. “Sure, Mom. If that’s what you want. But it’s called texting and not testing. Let me see your phone.”

She handed me her phone, and I pointed to the keypad. “See the letters on this? If you want to type an M for Maggie, you hit the number six once and you get an uppercase M. Then you would hit two for an A . . .”

“What if I want to make lowercase letters and not type like an angry animal?”

“Then you would have to go around the horn. You would hit the number two four times to get a lowercase A.”

“That’s a lot of work for one letter. This doesn’t seem easier.” She was pulling out her hand sanitizer again for no reason whatsoever.

“It is easier, Mom. Just type in all caps. You hit a four to get a G . . .”

“I don’t want to type in all caps. I don’t talk in all caps, so why would I write like that?”

My head was starting to hurt. “Mom, it doesn’t matter. This is just going to me. It’s not a formal letter. Let me show you how to do spaces.”

“You know, that’s the problem with your generation. No one takes things seriously. It’s not just a test message. It’s a means of communication, and it needs to be proper.” She swiped the remnants of a funnel cake off her Berkin.

The car parts glued to my helmet were rattling loudly as I shook my head. “It’s a text message, and I promise this won’t be graded. I’m the only one who will see it.”

She was fishing her sunglasses out of her bag. “You don’t know who could be reading these things with all the government intrusion. It’s all the ladies talk about at the country club.”

I put my arm through hers and started escorting her to the exit. “Okay, I think that’s enough of a technology lesson for today. Let me know when you’re back, and I will find you. Have fun!”

“I’ll test message you when I’m done.” She kissed my cheek and walked out the door.

***

I could almost hear a theme song playing in my head as I strutted through the halls solo. This was my town now, and I could do anything I wanted. The first thing on my agenda was to get another stupid pretzel from the shortest line I could find. I would pay the price later, but I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see one of my idols in person by leaving for a meal. I milled about, keeping my eyes and ears peeled for anything that seemed George Lucas-y.

“What are you supposed to be?” I heard a stranger ask for the millionth time today.

I sighed as I looked down at my pants and shirt with various pieces of metal scraps adhered to them. My well-planned costumes hadn’t translated as well as I would have guessed.

“She’s the trash compactor from the original Star Wars.” I looked in shock toward the direction of the voice and saw a guy roughly my age with dark-rimmed glasses and brown hair a little darker than the color of Chewbacca’s fur. His face made me feel like I had bumblebees in my stomach. He looked like the kind of boy a girl might wait a lifetime for.

“That’s right. How did you know?” My voice was all breathy like in the movies.

“Well, it’s obvious. What else could you be?” He pushed a piece of unruly hair out of his eyes. I thought about snipping off that hair and putting it in a locket.

The other boy, apparently bored with us, walked off.

“People have been asking me the same question all day, too.”

I looked at his black costume, with large plastic pipes bent at each of his shoulders. “You’re clearly the A99 Aquata Breather. It’s standard-issue equipment for a Jedi, allowing them to breathe in any environment. How could that stump anyone?”

His eyes became huge saucers as he stepped closer to me. He put his hand on my arm. “Right? That’s what I keep telling everyone! Hey, I heard George Lucas might show up to this thing today. You want to go get some food and look for him?”

I never understood those girls who didn’t want to appear too eager. I would marry this guy right now if I had any idea what the marriage laws were in California. “Yes! I’ve already covered the northwestern quadrant.” I grabbed his hand, pulling him along with me. “Let’s head east. Onward we go!”

He laughed, but didn’t look the slightest bit alarmed like everyone I met in my normal life. “I like you. What’s your name, trash compactor?”

“Maggie. What’s yours, A99?”

“It’s Finn. Is this your first Con, Maggie?” He squeezed my hand.

“It is. Have you been before?” We pushed our way through the crowd, our hands never unlocking no matter how many people we clotheslined.

“I was here last year. It was just as crazy. I learned the hard way that you have to bring your own snacks if you don’t want to spend the whole time in line.”

“But you’re not allowed to bring in outside food. I know because my mother asked. Twice.” I was very distracted by looking at Finn and forgot to be on the lookout for the renowned filmmaker.

He squeezed my hand again before letting it go. “You have to know how to work the system, Maggie.” He uncapped one of his plastic tubes and pulled out two candy bars. He uncapped another and two juice boxes rolled out. He tapped his chest. “I have enough food stashed in here to survive a zombie apocalypse.”

I was impressed. I cracked open my juice box immediately. “You’re like the drug mule of snacks.”

“I prefer the name Food Ninja, but I like the way you think.” He grabbed my hand again as soon as we had both disposed of our empty drinks. “What do you do when you’re not making awesome costumes, Maggie?”

I liked the way he kept saying my name. “I mostly wear out my parents. But, when I’m not doing that, I ride my horse or listen to music or watch old TV shows. I’m president of about twenty fan clubs, so that keeps me pretty busy, too.”

“Twenty? Wow. What kind of clubs?”

He didn’t sound sarcastic like the kids at school. He seemed . . . interested. His cheeks lifted up his glasses when he smiled. He had the best smile I’d ever seen, and I’d spent a lot of time around Stepford families who smiled constantly. I liked his face in a not at all platonic way.

I felt more fluttering in my stomach that had nothing to do with all the junk food I had eaten. “A lot of them are clubs devoted to famous people’s hair. I have a couple devoted to voices, too. There’s one club solely dedicated to Keanu Reeves’s big toe, but that’s a story for another time.”

He scrunched up his face like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. “You’re a bit of a surprise, Maggie Trash Compactor.” He touched the bottom of a strand of my hair with his free hand. “I think we’ve thoroughly scoped out this area. Are you ready to head north?”

“Let’s do it.” Walking around with Finn was hard to describe. I wasn’t the solo oddball. I liked who I was, so it didn’t bother me to be a pariah most days, but there were times when it got lonely. I wasn’t lonely today.

Finn stopped abruptly, jerking me to a halt. “I think we should . . .” His voice was drowned out by high-pitched screaming from a crowd of girls. It sounded like the Elvis concert footage I liked to watch. That man could do things with his hips that would impregnate any woman of childbearing age within fifteen miles. I sometimes thought I was born in the wrong era, but I also liked modern conveniences like underwear that didn’t go up to your nipples.

The source of the commotion seemed to be a person attempting to walk through the hall with security trying to create a bubble around them. The bubble kept collapsing as soon as it was formed. I climbed up onto a chair for a better look. The girl already occupying the chair objected loudly, but I was on a mission. I yelled down to Finn. “I think it’s George Lucas!”

“How can you tell?” He stood on his toes, but probably couldn’t see anything because he was too polite to stand on a stranger’s lap.

“He has hair. George Lucas has hair. It has to be him.” I had some pretty fantastic math skills, and I could put two and two together. I jumped down and grabbed Finn’s hand, pulling him toward the expanding crowd. The girl whose chair I invaded was still yelling obscenities after us, but I didn’t have time to address her issues. I had a lock of hair to obtain.

Between the metal parts on my costume and the hard tubes sticking out of Finn’s, we were quite effective at parting the crowd. I was nearly two arms’ length from maybe, possibly the back of George Lucas’s head when security shoved us back. I tried to regain my position toward the center of the surging crowd. I hoped everyone in close proximity to me had their tetanus shots updated because my costume wasn’t crafted with safety in mind.

I still hadn’t been able to confirm the identity of the person in the middle of all this chaos, but he was definitely male. Probably. Finn was still at my side with a tight grip on my hand. We were making backward progress though. The larger the crowd grew, the farther back we were pushed. Finally, the group reached a staff doorway that was off limits to the public, and the mystery person was herded out of our sight. I had failed to collect any trophy DNA.

“Nuts! Do you think that was him?” The crowd broke formation and began moving in different directions.

“I’m not sure. I couldn’t get a good angle. Do you want to see if we can find another door and break in?” His expression looked like a golden retriever about to go on a walk.

“Yes.” I grabbed his hand, entwining our fingers. “I need to get some felonies out of the way while I’m still a minor.”

We walked into a less-crowded hall and found a door that was unlocked if you body-slammed it while jiggling the handle. It was a two-person job. Unfortunately, the door only led to a closet.

“Well, that was a bust,” Finn said. “I saw a booth that was giving out candy necklaces. Do you want one?”

Was he offering me jewelry? The janitor would have to mop me off this floor because I was turning into a puddle of goo. “Heck yes, I want a candy necklace. Lead the way!”

He took my hand and pulled me through the crowd behind him. We got our necklaces and continued walking through the booths, loading up on all the freebies. We chased screams to a few more near celebrity sightings, but I was never able to add to my hair collection.

We walked and talked for hours. We shared a couple small boxes of cereal from his costume and some beef jerky. I was just happy to have meat not attached to a stick. We talked about all the important topics—favorite movies, TV shows, comic books, and estimated rate of speed if being chased by a warthog.

We found ourselves in another screaming crowd for a possible Sir Ian McKellen appearance when I felt my phone buzz in the pocket of my pants. I somehow managed to pull it out in the middle of the mayhem to check the screen.

 

MaGGiEITSMOmiDONTKNOwHOWTOUSEpunCTUATION

 

I slipped my phone back in my pocket. She would be fine for another few minutes. I wanted to see if this was actually a star, or just another fan with a really good costume. The screams died down quick enough that it was looking like the second option. My phone buzzed again.

 

MAGgiEHeLLOqueSTIONmaRK

 

She was typing punctuation. This wasn’t good. I wasn’t ready to leave Finn, but I didn’t realize how late it was. It was nearly Mom’s bedtime. She had given me more than half a day of free time and she would be ready to leave. I didn’t have any time to grieve before my phone vibrated once again.

 

MAGGIETHEREISAMANWITHAVILEMASKNEXTTOMECOMEFINDMERIGHTNOW

 

She wasn’t even attempting lowercase letters anymore. This was serious.

Finn squeezed my hand to regain my attention. “That was a close one. I thought that guy was the real deal this time. Where are we headed to next?”

I glanced back down at my phone and the series of frantic texts. I needed to save my mother. She had put up with a lot up to this point. “This was fun, but I’m afraid this is the end of the line for me.” I looked away so he wouldn’t see me blinking back tears. “I’ll see you next year?”

“You really have to go so soon?” He looked truly sad. “Can we exchange phone numbers?”

I moved so fast, one of the pieces of garbage fell off my costume. “Of course we can!” I recited my number to him while he plugged it into his phone, and he did the same for me. I had Finn’s phone number. I was going to call the heck out of it.

Without any thought, I stood up on my toes and smashed my lips to his, the metal garbage on my costume knocking the wind out of him. He pulled me tighter to him as soon as he recovered. It was my first kiss, but I hadn’t bothered to ask him if I was his. I enjoyed the way his lips felt on mine. Both of our lips were chapped from the Con-induced dehydration. I didn’t care at all. I would never regret kissing him. This was the first person who’d made me feel like it was okay to be me, and this inexpert kiss in the middle of the convention floor was everything.

I ran off without looking back, the clanking of my costume drowning out every other sound. I didn’t know if he looked for me at the Con the next year because I didn’t make it back. My mother had long-sufferingly put in her time, and I wasn’t able to return until I could travel unchaperoned. But that trip had taught me a lot about life, and diversity, and the importance of a soft, breathable lining inside your costumes.