Ship It(58)

I try to push the image out of my mind as I slip through the crowds of people. It’s not hard to find what I’m looking for—the convention walls are practically wallpapered with banner advertisements for Red Zone 4, out this week, all of them plastered with the Red Zone booth number. Bandit Games must have doled out a fortune for this setup, but it’s their hometown, and they’re launching a new game, so this is their big moment.

When I make it to the Red Zone booth I find it’s more of a Red Zone zone, with a dozen game consoles attached to giant screens where people can play the new game, and cardboard cutouts of Jack Tension to take selfies with. Gamers swarm the entire area, lining up to get their first crack at the game. I see a few girls in the mix, including one with rainbow-colored hair who’s kicking ass on a console in the corner, but most of the gamers fit the image I had pictured of attendees for these cons: a lot of guys, a lot of beards, a lot of backpacks and cargo shorts.

“Can I help set you up on a game?” a woman asks me. She’s wearing a very revealing, sexy version of the Jack Tension costume. She must be working the booth. I wonder what Claire would have to say about Bandit Games using sex to sell their video games. I can already kind of picture her going on a tear about it, which brings a smile to my face.

“Um, no, I’m cool,” I tell the woman, careful to look her in the eyes and nowhere else. “I’m gonna just buy a game.”

“Over there,” she says, pointing, and goes off to help someone else. I pick my way through the overenthusiastic knot of gamers and make my way to the purchase desk. “I’ll take one for Xbox,” I tell the pale, skinny guy working the counter.

“Just ran out here, but hold on, I’ll grab more from the other side,” he says, and runs behind the curtain. I lean against the counter and take in the panorama of gaming around me.

I watch a dude make a spectacular kill shot in the new game, and his friend full-body hugs him—just wraps him up and lifts him off the ground in this giant, physical display of hetero brodudery. What would happen if they held on a little too hard, if that final backslap lingered a fraction too long, if their eyes accidentally met, and they didn’t look away?

Would they awkwardly laugh it off? Make a yo, get your hands off me, homo joke? What if they did it again, later, in private, after a few drinks, with fewer people around to see it, to label it? What if they unlocked a room in their hearts that they had always kept bolted tight? What if they kissed?

Jesus, Forest, what?

I shake my head. What the hell is wrong with me this morning? When I look back, they’ve returned to their game. Because obviously.

She’s in my head. She’s got me seeing shit that’s not there. Just like she does. I should never have read that fanfic; now it’s goddamn everywhere. Does she do this? Go around imagining every straight person she sees is gay? Is that any way to live?

I look around for the booth babe, and I spot her across the way, chatting with some gamer guy. Boobs, butt, boobs, sex, I think over and over until the Red Zone guy comes back and slaps down my game. I pay him, and as I turn around to leave, I find myself face-to-face with like six wide-eyed girls clutching one another and giggling nervously.

It never ends.

“Hi, Forest,” one of them squeaks out. She has a long chain of ribbons hanging off her convention badge, down to her waist. Three of her friends are either filming or photographing on their phones.

I don’t want to deal with this today. “I’m sorry, but I have to get going,” I say as I attempt to edge by them. The crush of the convention crowd pushes in around us, and people are looking, wondering who I am. Nothing gives me away as a minor celebrity more than a gaggle of teens taking photos.

“Can we take a selfie?”

“It’s my friend’s birthday, will you call her? She’d flip out if she knew I met you!”

“Where’s Rico?”

A flash blinds me. I flinch. When my vision returns, I see another small group of girls down the aisle shrieking and heading toward me. I need to get out of here.

“Forest, have you heard what Claire is planning?” one of them asks.

But I don’t care what Claire is planning. I turn away from them, slide into a current in the crowd, and let it take me away.


Rico’s picking through the snacks on the craft table like he’s defusing a bomb. We’re the only ones in the greenroom, and I’m leaning back in my chair, watching him get just the right ratio of Chex Mix to pita chips to hummus to carrot sticks on his little paper plate.

As I watch him select an apple from the fruit basket, I wonder if he’s ever googled himself. If he’s ever googled us. What would he think? Something tells me he wouldn’t be bothered by it, but how could he just pretend it doesn’t exist? Knowing there’s basically… well, it’s porn, is what it is. About us. On the internet. That lots and lots of people read. That I’ve read.

I didn’t know this was part of the job.

He catches me watching him. “Yo, this is real Chex Mix over here, not the knockoff stuff.” He holds up his plate. “You want some?”

“I’m good,” I say.

He looks at me a moment. “You okay?” I shrug. No, not really. “What’s up?” he asks.

The greenroom is empty, I know it is, but I glance around anyway, to double-check. I stand up and join him at the snack table. He looks at me, concerned. Of course he’s concerned, I’m acting like a freak. Relax, Reed.