The Pros of Cons by Alison Cherry, Lindsay Ribar, Michelle Schusterman (11)

As I left the ballroom after the podcast workshop, I was actually glad for the first time that I’d come all the way to Florida. Anica and Rafael had walked us through the production of an entire episode of A Thousand Words, from deciding on a concept to building narrative structure to post-production. They’d done a sample interview with an audience member and then shown us how her words could make us feel different things depending on what sound effects or music they played underneath. I was confident I could master the technical stuff if I got my hands on equipment like theirs, but I had no idea how I’d ever learn to craft a perfect story out of other people’s experiences the way they could. They were just so freaking good at it.

When the workshop was over, fans swarmed to the front of the room to talk to Anica and Rafael. Part of me wanted to go up and say hi, too, but I needed to get back across the convention center before my dad realized I wasn’t really in Hall 5C. Hopefully the information I’d learned from the duck taxidermy videos I’d watched on YouTube last night would be enough to convince him I’d been at the waterfowl demo all morning.

And then I pulled out my phone, and there on the screen were two missed calls and five texts from my dad.

Dad had been forced to tell his archrival that he’d lost his assistant? Oh god, I was in so, so much trouble.

I tried to remind myself that I hadn’t really done anything wrong. It’s not like my dad needed me to sit in sessions with him, and I deserved to do one small thing for me. But he must’ve gotten into my head, because instead of feeling defiant and self-righteous, I just felt awful. Maybe he was right about me after all; pretending I was learning to mount ducks and running off to another con was legitimately unprofessional. If I wanted to show him I deserved to be treated with respect, sneaking around behind his back wasn’t exactly the best way to do that. There was nothing to do now but find him and own up to my mistakes.

Where will you be in 15 min? I wrote back. I’ll come meet you. Then I texted Vanessa to come find me so I could return her badge, sat down against the wall next to this weird plastic cactus, and tried to prepare myself for the confrontation to come.

Four girls dressed as Ninja Turtles wandered by, deep in a discussion about postmodernism. A girl in an elephant-print romper struggled to carry a giant cardboard cutout of an actor from The Vampire Diaries. The woman behind her looked kind of familiar, but I couldn’t place her until I noticed the little kid at her side. Today, Beige was dressed in a Viking helmet and leather breastplate with metal cones where her boobs would be a decade from now. Her platinum braids reached her butt, and she was clutching a fake sword.

“Now, sweetheart, remember not to give it all away on your first ‘am Rande des Rheins zuhauf,’” said her mom. “You have to save that beautiful instrument for the higher notes later on in the aria.”

Beige nodded, her face completely serious. Was this kindergartener seriously going to sing opera? In German?

“You’re going to kick Delancey’s puny behind,” her mom said. “Sweetie, what do we call Delancey?”

“My arch-ne-me-sis,” Beige said, enunciating carefully.

“And what do we do with our archnemesis?”

Beige raised her foot-long sword in the air. “We crush her!”

After a few endless minutes, Vanessa finally showed up with two other girls in tow. “Hey!” she said, giving me a little wave. “Merry, Phoebe, this is Callie. Callie, my friends: Merry and Phoebe.”

The taller girl came up and held out her hand—or, their hand, according to the button about pronouns pinned to their shirt. “I love your hair,” they said. “Is that your natural color? There are so many great characters you could cosplay. Merida or Willow or Oz or Poison Ivy or any of the Weasleys …” I must’ve had a strange expression on my face, because they broke off all of a sudden. “Sorry! Rambling. Great to meet you.”

I shook their hand. “You too.” I turned to Phoebe, and then I realized I’d seen her before. “Hey, you’re the one with the drums. Your friend ran me over with a xylophone.” I pushed up my sleeve to show her the purple bruise on my elbow.

Phoebe winced. “A marimba, yeah. Sorry about that. My friends are morons. Anyway, I’ve been looking for you all over so I could give you this.”

She held out a black leather case, stenciled with the words BUCHANNAN TAXIDERMY. But that didn’t make any sense. My dad’s tool kit was upstairs with all the other turkey demo stuff.

“Wait, how did you get that?” I asked. “I saw it in my room this morning.”

“Actually, you’ve got the bag with all my drumsticks and mallets,” Phoebe said. “It looks really similar.”

“Oh no. What have you been using to play?”

“Um.” Phoebe looked down at her palms, which were all bandaged up.

“Oh my god. Please tell me you didn’t play the drums with my dad’s taxidermy tools.”

“It was an emergency. Scalpels don’t actually sound that bad on a xylophone, as it turns out.” She shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ll heal.”

“Man,” I said. “You’re really hardcore. I hope you disinfected the crap out of your hands afterward. Some of those scalpels were, um, inside a badger on Monday.”

Phoebe gazed at her palms in awe. “Sweet, I’ve got Hufflepuff hands!”

“So the podcast thing was good?” Vanessa asked, obviously desperate to change the subject.

“It was amazing. Thank you so much for letting me borrow this.” I took off her badge and passed it over, and she handed mine back in return. “Did you like the animals?”

“Yeah! They were actually really cool! And we got to see some judging happen. Except, wait, okay. There was this one monkey, and I thought I heard a judge saying it had, um”—she leaned closer to me and lowered her voice—“jizz? Does that actually mean …?”

I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, no. That means it’s really lifelike. I don’t know why they say that.”

“Check out the Incredible Hulk costume over there,” Phoebe said, totally deadpan. “Has some serious jizz.”

“Tony Stark would agree,” murmured Merry, and Vanessa giggled.

My phone vibrated, and my heart started pounding as I dug it out of my pocket. This was going to be so bad. “Hang on a second, okay?” I said to my new friends, then moved a couple of steps away before I answered.

“Hey, I’m so, so sorry,” I started before my dad could say anything. “I have to run up to the room really quickly, but I’ll come meet you right after that, okay?”

“Callie, where are you? Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” He was already at an 8.5 out of 10 on the irritated scale, and it made me feel even worse.

“I went to … um … a class. Not a taxidermy one. I promise I’ll explain everything when I see you, okay? I’m seriously so sorry. I just need, like, ten minutes, fifteen tops.”

My dad made this huffing, sighing sound that I knew meant he had reached the end of his rope. “Meet me at the trade show entrance,” he said.

“I will. I’ll be there, I promise,” I said, and the line went dead.

“Everything okay?” Merry asked when I rejoined the group.

I tried to rearrange my face into a neutral expression. “Yeah. I just … I have to go. Phoebe, you want to come upstairs with me for a second and swap bags?”

Before she could answer, a blond girl bounced up and wrapped her arms around Vanessa from behind. Even from a few feet away, I could smell the cloud of fake-flowery perfume that surrounded her. Phoebe turned away and let out a delicate little cough.

Was this the famous Soleil? I’d been picturing her as elegant and mysterious. This girl looked like she should be modeling for The Gap.

“Hey, girlie!” she chirped. “Where have you been? I thought maybe you’d make it back in time for Gender Roles in Doctor Who, but I guess not. But you got your new badge, right?”

“Wait, why did you need a new—” I started, but Vanessa shot me a quick, scared look, so I shut up.

“Yup,” she said. “It took a little longer than I thought.”

“Ugh, did they give you a hard time? The girl who registered me was a total bee-yotch.”

“It was fine. Everything’s fine,” Vanessa said. She looked intensely uncomfortable. “Guys, this is Soleil. My … roommate. This is Callie and Phoebe, and you already know Merry.”

“Oh, yeah. Hi.” Soleil’s eyes swept over Phoebe and me. “What’re your fandoms?”

“We’re here for the other conventions,” Phoebe said.

“Oh.” The girl’s interest in us instantly evaporated, and she linked her arm with Vanessa’s like she was trying to mark her territory. “So, I’m meeting Danielle and Aimee and Marziya for lunch at that place in the lobby. You have to come this time. I mean, as long as you’re not opposed to Mexican food.”

Vanessa squirmed. “Mexican food’s fine.”

“Great! Let’s go. They’re waiting.”

“I—um, okay. Merry, do you want to come eat with us?”

“Actually, Merry, I’m sooo sorry, but I only made a reservation for five,” Soleil said. “I’d see if they could fit one more, but the restaurant’s gonna be super crowded right now, so.” She gave a little one-shouldered shrug that made my skin crawl.

“I’ve got plans with my friends for lunch,” Merry said. “Maybe we can meet up later, Ness?”

“We’re going to the third fanfic reading this afternoon. Find me there, okay?” Vanessa turned back to Phoebe and me. “And I guess I’ll see you guys later?”

I couldn’t believe she was going to let this tiny, peppy monster drag her away right in the middle of a conversation. “Yeah, text me,” I said.

Soleil tugged Vanessa’s arm. “Nessie, come on. I told Danielle we’d be there five minutes ago.” As they took off down the hall, Vanessa turned back over her shoulder and mouthed Sorry to us.

Merry left to meet their own friends, and Phoebe and I went to get her mallets. “So, taxidermy,” she said as we walked across the bridge to the hotel. “You really skin animals?”

She sounded so excited about it that I wasn’t nervous at all when I said, “Yeah, sometimes.”

She gave me a huge smile. “That is awesome.”

Okay, seriously, what were the chances of finding two girls my age in a row who didn’t think taxidermy made me a freak? “Thanks,” I said. “I was pretty into it when I was little, but now I mostly do it … um, for the money. I mean, it’s fine. But if I never saw another scalpel, I wouldn’t mind that much.”

Phoebe looked down at her hands. “Yeah, me neither.”

“I seriously can’t believe you did that.”

“It was pretty stupid. But sadly, it’s not the stupidest thing I’ve done in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Really? What was the stupidest?”

“Eh …” Phoebe wrinkled her nose. “Let’s call it a hormonal mishap, the details of which are far too humiliating to share.”

“Oh no. Sorry.”

“Anyway.” Phoebe shot me a sly smile. “Soleil, huh?”

“Oh my god, what is up with her? Why does Vanessa like her? She’s horrible.”

“Seriously,” Phoebe said. “I don’t get it at all.”

I wanted to ask Phoebe if she thought Vanessa and Soleil were really dating, but I wasn’t sure if she even knew about the internet girlfriend thing. So instead I said, “When I met Vanessa last night, Soleil had just backed out of their plans so she could hang out with a bunch of fans, and Vanessa was clearly upset, but she sat there and made excuses for her anyway. It’s like she’s brainwashed or something.”

“I know! And she seems so cool otherwise. There are tons of great people here. Why would you choose to hang out with someone who doesn’t even respect you?”

We were at the elevators now, and the doors opened as soon as I pressed the up button. “Also, can we talk about her name?” Phoebe continued as we got inside. “Who names their kid Soleil? Is that supposed to be like Cirque du Soleil or something?”

“That’s exactly what I said! And Vanessa got all snippy about it.”

“That can’t be her real name. She’s probably, like, an Ann or a Jane or something.”

“Or something super old-fashioned and embarrassing, like Mildred.”

Phoebe laughed. “I had a great-aunt Mildred. Once she threw her toast at my little brother because he cursed in front of her.”

We were still laughing by the time we got to my room. Phoebe went straight for her mallet bag and swapped it for my dad’s tools, and then she started inspecting the giant coolers against the wall. “What’s in these?”

“Turkeys. My dad’s doing this seminar tomorrow about turkey taxidermy. They’re in different stages of being finished, like a cooking show.”

“Oh my god, can I see?”

“I’m not supposed to open them and let the cold air out. The feathers start to fall out if they get too warm. But if you come back after the demo tomorrow, I guess I can show you.”

“Okay,” Phoebe said eagerly, and she gave me her number so I could text her. The moment I hit save, the phone rang, and my mom’s picture flashed up on the screen.

My stomach knotted up just for a second, a Pavlovian response to her calls that was still ingrained in me from last year. I was fine with talking to Mom now, but I had refused to speak to her at all for the first four months after she’d moved across the country to “start over.” That hadn’t stopped her from calling me every day and leaving long, apologetic voicemails, most of which I deleted unplayed. Every single time her name popped up on my screen, I’d been assaulted by a wash of sadness and anger, and it stressed me out so much that I’d hidden my phone in my sock drawer and left it there for two months.

But after a while, it had started to feel like holding out was costing me more than giving in. My dad had withdrawn from the world even more than usual after Mom left. He’d spent most of his time in the studio since he started getting really big museum jobs when I was about eleven, but now that was the only place I ever saw him, and even there he never talked or joked with me like he used to. I ate dinner alone almost every night, he never asked about my life, and I needed one parent who was actually trying. Mom had done a seriously crappy thing, but at least she was putting in the work. We checked in a couple of times a week now, and our relationship was slowly creeping back toward normal.

“Do you mind if I answer this?” I asked Phoebe. “It’s my mom. We keep missing each other.”

“Go ahead. Do you want me to leave?”

“No, it’s fine.” I clicked the talk button. “Hey, Mom.”

“Cal! I finally got you!” I could hear the smile in her voice, and it made me miss her. “How are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m okay,” I said. “We’re in Orlando.”

“Oh wow, I forgot that was this weekend. How is it going?”

I sigh. “It’s … going.”

“That good, huh?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought things with Dad would be better here? Like, maybe we could actually have a good time together? But everything’s just … the same as it is at home.” I felt kind of weird saying this stuff in front of Phoebe, but when I glanced over at her, she was absorbed in the taxidermy supply catalog on the desk.

“I swear we used to have fun at these conventions,” I said. “I’m not crazy, right?”

“No, you’re not.” She sounded sad. “Our animal guessing game, and our room service nights …”

“And Sven the bison-car,” I reminded her.

“Yes! That was so funny!” She laughed. “I miss you so much, Cal. I’m counting down the days till you come out here. Just six more weeks. I was thinking maybe we could go to Willow Canyon the first weekend and camp for a couple of nights. How does that sound?”

“Great,” I said. “It sucks that I can only stay for a month. I wish we had longer.”

It was totally silent on the other end of the line, and I wondered if the call had dropped. “You still there?” I asked.

“I’m here. But … sweetie, did you just say you want to come out here for longer?”

“Yeah. It’s okay, I know the court only gave you four weeks during the summer. I just wish—”

“Cal, didn’t your dad talk to you about this?”

“What about it? I mean, we booked my ticket and stuff.”

“No, I mean … You guys didn’t have another conversation? Recently? Like a week ago?”

“No,” I said. I couldn’t remember the last time my dad and I had a conversation about anything that didn’t involve my professional attitude or passing the tail splitter.

My mom sighed loudly. “God, I could kill that man.”

A cold dread crept down my spine, the same feeling I used to get when I heard my parents yelling at each other. “What? What happened?”

“I called him last week and said I wanted you to come out here for the whole summer, and he said he needed you in the studio. I told him I’d pay for him to hire someone else, so he said he’d talk to you. But then he called back the next day and said you only wanted to be here for a month, and if I wanted extended visitation rights, I’d have to take you guys to court. And obviously I wasn’t going to force you to be with me if you didn’t want to.”

I suddenly felt a little wobbly, and I sat down hard on the edge of the bed. “He didn’t even ask. He never said anything about it.”

My mom gave a breathy laugh. “Well, that’s kind of a relief, honestly. I thought you and I were in a pretty good place right now.”

“We are.”

My heart was suddenly racing, and I pressed a hand over it. Dad had spent all this time and effort pointing out how everything I said and did was wrong, and I had legitimately felt like a terrible person for going behind his back. And all that time, he’d been going behind my back, keeping secrets about things that were much more important. Skipping out on ninety minutes of a convention wasn’t great, but rerouting my life without even asking? That was an entirely different level of awful.

A ball of white-hot rage gathered in my stomach and started spreading outward, up my throat and into my arms and down my legs. “I want to stay with you the whole summer,” I said. “Is that still okay? Or is it too late now?”

“Of course it’s not too late. I want you here as long as possible. But if you can’t get him to give his permission, I can’t take him to court right now. I can’t afford any more legal fees. I’m really sorry.”

“I’ll make him say yes.” My voice was trembling, and I realized the rest of my body was, too.

“Great. That’s great. I’m thrilled you want to come.” My mom sounded so relieved, like a huge weight had lifted off her chest. I felt like it had settled right onto mine.

“I have to go,” I choked. “I’ll call you soon, okay?”

“Okay, sweetheart. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” I said, and she hung up.

I stared at the CALL ENDED screen and tried to breathe, but every lungful of air felt ragged and shallow. For the first time in more than a year, I had a parent who wanted more time with me. And my dad had prevented me from knowing about it.

“You okay?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin; I had forgotten Phoebe was in the room. “Yeah. No. I don’t know.”

“Well, that’s … specific,” Phoebe said, and I managed a tiny laugh that sounded more like a cough.

“It’s a long story,” I said. “Basically, my parents are divorced, I live with my dad, and my mom lives in Arizona. And I just found out she wants to see me more, but my dad told her I didn’t want to go, except he never asked me about it.”

Her eyes widened. “Dude, seriously? What a shark-head.”

“A … what?”

“Ha, sorry. We have a swear jar at home, so I say animals instead of curse words. Anyway, sorry, I probably shouldn’t call your dad a shark-head.”

“No, you’re right. He is.” I dug the heels of my hands into my eye sockets until I saw swirling colors. “How am I even supposed to react to this? How am I supposed to go back down there and face him right now? I just want to, like, break something.”

Phoebe eyed the turkey armature boxes. “You could, you know.”

“Not really. It would feel great for about three seconds, and then I’d have to clean up a huge mess, and my dad would probably spend the entire night screaming at me.”

“You wouldn’t have to clean it up if you did it in his room. Or outside. Or … ooh! What if you rigged one of the turkeys to explode during his presentation or something?”

“That’s … not really possible,” I said, but maybe she was onto something. Even without an explosion, there were lots of ways to make a demo go wrong. After what he’d done to me, he totally deserved to have the thing he cared about most fall apart right in front of him.

“I could sabotage the demo, though,” I said slowly. “But that would be too much, right? There are going to be, like, five hundred people there.”

Phoebe shrugged. “He’s basically trying to sabotage your life. That’s way worse.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s your call, obviously. But think about it.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You know what? I definitely will.”