Ship It(80)

Outside, I shiver against the chilly night air and pull my collar up higher. It feels good to walk, though. I can feel the anxiety start to slip away as I round a corner and head past the darkened convention center. I wasn’t expecting there to be people outside, but there’s a long line of dedicated con attendees camped out overnight for something happening tomorrow. They’re bundled up in their down jackets and fleece blankets, hoods cinched over their faces, playing cards, making one another laugh as low music fills the air. They are the dedicated, the passionate.

Maybe it would have impressed me before, even made me happy to see them so determined. But now I just see how it goes wrong, how quickly love can become zeal, passion can become fanaticism. How quickly I can go from having a promising career with opportunities in front of me to the gutter of Hollywood. Washed up at twenty-three. And for what?

I pass a convention sign with an arrow pointing toward the DEMON HEART MARATHON SCREENING and I remember that they’re showing episodes until late tonight. I situate my hat low over my eyes and head toward the park a block or two away.

It’s time to say good-bye.

Approaching the Demon Heart screening, I see the hundreds of fans lying out on blankets and lawn chairs on the sloping grass, watching our show playing on a large projection screen. It’s dark out, and no one’s looking anywhere but at the screen. I keep to the shadows formed by a cluster of trees toward the back of the park, find a spot, and watch with them for a bit. I recognize the episode right away. It’s from late in the season, as Heart and Smokey try out a provisional truce. After destroying a monster that was wreaking havoc on a paddleboat casino together, they lean against a roulette table and share a beer.

“Take it, man, you earned it today,” Heart says, holding out a cold one to Smokey.

I watch myself take the beer with a “Thanks,” and hold Heart’s eye for just a beat longer than necessary before clinking bottles with him.

I look around the park at the people watching. One girl nearby sighs, watching the screen, lovelorn, and her friend puts her head on her shoulder. “I know,” the first girl whispers, rubbing her friend’s arm. “I know.”

This is shipping.

On-screen, Smokey and Heart share an earnest nod before taking a drink, and the scene fades to black. Would they have made a good couple? No way to know, now. Jamie’s name flashes on-screen and the park erupts into boos. I join them, low, under my breath.

Boo, Jamie. Boo, Forest. Boo all of us. Boo the whole damn show.


MS. NEWTON DRONES on in calc about concepts I have no grasp of because I’ve missed so much class. Normally, I’d be anxious to catch up and make sure my A doesn’t slip, but I’m just not feeling it anymore.

I’ve been back in Pine Bluff three weeks. If the kids here have any idea that I was momentarily famous on the internet, they haven’t given me any indication of it. I didn’t get a single “Hey, what’s it like to hang out with C-list celebrities?” I didn’t even get a “Were you sick or something?” It’s like they didn’t even notice I was gone. Except for Joanie Engstrom, who, when she saw me coming down the bus aisle my first day back, gave me a little smile and moved her bag for me to sit down before going back to reading her Bible. It’s the friendliest thing that’s happened to me yet.

Fine with me. I have two weeks left in junior year, and I’m just looking forward to a summer full of reading books (no more fanfic for me) and lying on my back on the trampoline in my backyard, pretending I live in a different country.

In Calc, I sketch myself in my notebook hiking the five-hundred-mile Camino de Santiago trail in Spain, far away from literally every person and every television in the world. When I run out of room, I flip the notebook over to continue the sketch on the back page, but I forgot that I had stuck a Demon Heart sticker there. Just the sight of it fills me with emotions so quickly it’s like my hate-appendix burst, and my blood is filling up with deadly toxins that will kill me within minutes if I don’t get the sticker out of my sight.

I start picking at the corner of it, but the sticker just keeps tearing rather than peeling and it won’t come off, and my desk is filling up with little torn-off pieces, and I hate everything about it. Smokey and Heart looking at each other now, is just a taunt, a tease, a promise of something that will never come true.

I can’t stand it anymore. I tear the entire back cover off my notebook. It makes a loud ripping sound, and everyone in the room turns to stare. Andrea Garcia is in that class; she stares. I don’t care. When have I ever cared about what other people think?

I stand up, grab my backpack, and throw the entire notebook in the trash on my way out. Let me get a B in Calc. Who gives a shit about Calc?

I stride into the hallway and run directly into Kyle Cunningham with a flat thud. I stumble backward, and he tips his dirty hat up to see what just hit him. We make fleeting eye contact before I tuck my head down and try to push past him, but he grabs my shoulders and holds me there.

“Hey, hey, Claire Strupke. Where’d you go for so long? I thought maybe you finally got the help you need, and they put you in a psych ward.”

“Leave me alone, Kyle,” I say, and try to brush past him again, but he keeps me in place with a strong grip.

“You want to come over tonight? I was hoping we could pick up where we left off.”

“Andrea Garcia dumped you, huh?”