Ship It(11)

“What?” I stare at her, and she raises her eyebrows innocently.

“I’m just asking, that’s all. That’s my job, to ask you about yourself.”

It’s not the first time she’s asked me if I’m gay, but every time it makes me more exasperated. I just wish she’d stop prying.

“Just because you ship slash doesn’t make you gay, okay? Lots of people do it,” I say, then sigh and look out the window. “If you watched the show, you’d understand.”

“Okay,” she says, and leaves it alone.

I’ve seen the queer kids on Tumblr, with their proud statements on their profiles and their pictures throwing rainbow glitter at Pride. I get it, I’m happy they know themselves. But I don’t understand how anyone gets to that point. Did they just wake up one day and say, I see it now, I’m definitely gay! Or was it a long, slow, difficult process? And if it was long and slow, how did they eventually know they’d reached the end of it? Honestly, I can’t really imagine putting on some rainbow suspenders and going to a Pride parade with those kids. I also can’t really imagine putting on a cheerleading outfit and going to a football game like the straight girls from high school. Maybe I’m not gay or straight or bi or anything. Maybe I’m just nothing.

We pull up to the hotel and I can already see people coming out and headed for the convention down the street. I see a tiny woman dressed like one of the Ghostbusters and I feel a warmth inside of me. These, these are the people who are like me.

Once we get upstairs to our room, I fling my duffel onto the hotel bed and go straight to the window. Throwing open the blinds, I can see we have a full view of the convention center across the street. There are already so many people down there, picking up their badges, taking selfies, convention-ing. I’m itching to join them. They all look like they have friends with them, and I’ll just be with my mom. But still.

Mom comes out of the bathroom wearing a mom swimsuit. “I’m gonna check out the hot tub,” she says.

“You’re not coming with me?”

“How are you gonna make friends with your mother hanging around? Besides, I’m not actually here for the convention, I just had to get out of Pine Bluff for a while,” she says, slipping a shower cap on. “Don’t do drugs. Unless it seems like everyone else is doing it. Then make sure you know the name of everything you take so you can tell the EMTs later.” She slips into a fluffy white towel and winks at me. “And don’t tell your father.”

“Okay.” I wasn’t exactly looking forward to having her tailing me around the convention, asking questions, but somehow now that she’s not coming, I feel a little intimidated. Everyone else will be with someone and I’ll be alone.

“Hey, are you gonna ask any questions at the panel?” she asks.

“Oh god, no.”

“Why not, this is your chance, right? Tell that Jamie fella what you think should happen in the finale, face-to-face.”

“Oh my god, Mom, go away now.” Yeah, I can just see her waving her arms during the Q&A and forcing them to call on me. I decide it’s definitely better she’s not coming.

Mom shrugs. “Suit yourself. Have fun out there!”

She sweeps away in search of the hot tub.


I take in the scene at the Boise Convention Center as I cross the street. The building isn’t much to look at—a big corporate-looking slab of concrete and glass—but today the premises are alive, crawling with other weirdos who have chosen this place to spend their Saturday.

I push through the glass front doors, and the noise overwhelms me. People talking, cameras going off, somewhere in the distance, lightsabers fire up and I turn to watch a full-grown Kylo Ren cosplayer battle a toddler dressed as Rey as everyone in the vicinity melts at the adorableness. There’s no one for me to share the moment with, so I make a mental memory of it. Maybe I can tell Mom about it later tonight. Or Joanie, when I get back home. I’m not sure Joanie’s interested in Star Wars, but who doesn’t love stories about little kids?

The people are flowing around me and I realize I’m causing a traffic jam, so I move toward a column, press my back into it, and take in the scene. There’s an energy in this place, and it doesn’t even matter that the carpet is ugly and the fluorescent lights wash out everyone’s skin—it’s beautiful. The whole lobby is humming with excited fans—I see lots of young people, but also middle-aged couples, moms and dads with tiny kids. I see every body type, every fashion style, and, like, so much more racial diversity than you’d ever find in Pine Bluff.

And then there are the cosplayers. There’s a guy sitting against the wall who’s dressed as Black Lightning, chatting with a female Winter Soldier. In the line to pick up badges, I see a very tall Brienne of Tarth laughing with a short black Hermione Granger. By the stairs, I smile as I watch a Waverly Earp spot a Nicole Haught across the room and dash over to greet her and take a picture. My Demon Heart T-shirt doesn’t even raise an eyebrow here.

Against the wall, I see little pods of friends sitting in circles. At one pod, they’re splitting a pizza while one woman talks animatedly, gesturing wildly with a slice in her hand as the rest of the group looks on, nodding furiously between bites of pepperoni. I recognize the image of an “overexcited fan” immediately, but for some reason it doesn’t feel embarrassing here. The woman isn’t downplaying how excited she is about whatever she’s talking about. She’s just 100 percent geeking out, and her friends love her for it.