Ship It(47)

She says, “I mean, brothers or not, isn’t it just way more fun to listen to the songs if you’re imagining they’re singing all those love ballads to each other?”

“Obviously.”

“I think I still have a list of fic recs I could send you…” she says with a sideways smile.

“Thank you, that’s very kind, but I’m good.”

“Okay, I went, now it’s your turn. What was your first fandom?”

I screw up my face. Crusading on the importance of queer representation? That I can do without batting an eye. Carrying on about Demon Heart and why it’s appealing to young women? Easy, done. But talking about my first fandom? That’s personal. Now we’re sharing little pieces of ourselves, and I’m really, really not used to doing that.

But Tess is looking at me so expectantly, and she told me hers and how can I say no to those wide brown eyes?

“So… my parents don’t believe in TV,” I start, and she squeals, hopping back and forth on her toes. “Okay, I’m telling you! Relax!” I laugh.

“What do you mean, they don’t believe in it?”

“We never had TV growing up. No cable at least, just an ancient old TV with bunny ears they kept in the closet and pulled out for, like, presidential debates.”

“You kept your TV in a closet?” She looks incredulous.

“I know, ironic. Look at me now. Anyway, when we moved to Pine Bluff, I didn’t know anybody, and all the kids at school had already been friends for a decade. So I didn’t go out much, and I ended up hauling the TV out and watching movies at home. We had a few DVDs, but there was one tape—on VHS, I’m not even kidding you—that I watched constantly.” I glance at her. “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”

She cracks up. “Are we about to talk about inter-turtle romance?”

“No! Okay, I mean, there was some of that, obviously, but I was more interested in April. You know, O’Neil?”

“Yeah, of course. The reporter.”

“Yeah. We know so little about her in canon other than she’s a crusading young journalist, and all the turtles want to bang her. But who is she? What’s her story? Why does she spend all her time getting captured and sitting around waiting to be rescued?”

We step off the path to let a large, rowdy bachelorette party pass, all the ladies drunk and chattering, wearing sashes. Rather than yell over their noise, I keep the conversation going by leaning in close to Tess. I can smell her shampoo, something botanical and sweet.

“So I googled her—April. And I found a whole world of people, mostly other girls, asking the same questions that I was, and they were answering them…”

“In fanfiction,” Tess finishes. She turns her head just a bit, and despite the parade of women tottering by in heels, all I see is her. I can almost feel her breath on mine. The scratchy wool of her shawl rubs against the back of my hand. My eyes drift to the part of her chin that softens into her neck, and my skin erupts into goose bumps, even though I’m wearing a jacket. I watch as the corners of her mouth turn up—just the hint of a smile touching her lips. I swallow. Then the women pass, their cackles fade, and the moment subsides.

We step back onto the path and keep walking. I try not to think about whatever it was that just passed between us. She felt it, too, right?

I intentionally direct my brain back to the conversation at hand. “April never gets to be the hero in the movies, but in fanfic, finally, she’s the lead. We get to discover all sorts of things about her backstory. What happened to her parents? Car accident. How does she feel about sewers? Unsavory but necessary, and kind of cozy. What’s her favorite food? Oysters”—I raise my eyebrows—“on the half shell.”

“Cowabunga,” she says, laughing.

“So that’s how I found fanfic, which led me to Tumblr, which introduced me to so, so many other fandoms. And so I was an old fandom hag ready for a new obsession when Demon Heart premiered.”

“Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” she repeats, shaking her head.

“Yeah, well, they say you don’t get to pick your first fandom, it picks you.”

“So why do you think April picked you?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure. She was smart, she was fearless, she didn’t get enough story….”

“She was the only woman,” Tess points out.

Oh. Yeah, huh. That, too, probably.

Tess gives me a little look and says, low, “Do you often find yourself thinking about women, Claire?”

The way she says it gives me shivers. I look at her, and she’s giving me these eyes that are asking me a question I don’t know how to answer.

Do I?

Am I?

I honestly don’t know.

I sidestep the subtext and answer the question literally. “We’re hardwired to look for the character who’s like us, right? That’s just reality. I guess I saw myself in the intrepid woman reporter. Not so much in Rafael.”

“Maybe if she’d been Rafaela…” Tess jokes, and the mood seamlessly shifts back to fun banter.

“Ooh, do you think we could get Jamie to reboot TMNT with all lady-turtles?”

“Oh my god, can you even imagine?” We’re both giggling now. The idea is so absurd. Jamie making a movie about women? Ridiculous.