Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Isn’t confidence just a costume we all put on? Something to wear now and again. I effortlessly slip into it like I’m in one of Eliot’s plays.
Donnelly surveys the area. “I dunno, Hale.” His gaze returns softly to me. “I don’t much like surprise distractions.” He seems…worried?
I give an optimistic thumbs-up.
He points a thumbs-down.
I touch his hand, just to shift his thumb in the upright position. His eyes never shift off mine, and Donnelly encases his hand over my knuckles, pulling my thumb inwards. He’s holding my hands in his hands—and he’s turning my thumb downward.
And then Frog speaks. “I’ll radio in if we encounter any problems.”
He slowly lets go of my hands, listening to her.
She adjusts her earpiece. “Plus, we have three other temps watching our backs, Donnelly. We’ll be fine.”
“We’ll be fine,” I repeat like a mantra, and before anyone can change my mind, I leave Xander’s side. Frog is next to me, and together, we approach the Pink Power Ranger and the ten or fifteen other teenage girls gathered around her.
“Hiya,” I give a rainbow-wave. “Howdy ho.”
Pink Power Ranger pops off her helmet, brown hair cascading and freckled cheeks a little flushed. “Oh my gosh. You’re Luna Hale.”
“No, I’m Pixie.”
She rolls her eyes. “We know you’re Luna Hale. Could you like tell your brother to come talk to us? Ohmygosh, he’s coming over here!” She squeals, and I sidestep to block her. Xander is planning to bypass the girls for the door. But she doesn’t know that yet.
Pink Power Ranger drills a frustrated glare. “What are you doing? You’re in my way.” She tries to hoist her phone, but I’m up on my tiptoes again.
“Did you know that I have this hallucinogenic dust?” I reach into a pouch tied to my beltloop and fish out a fistful of glitter.
“Move.” Pink Power Ranger is about to bump me, but before a finger touches my shoulder, Frog slips between us and takes the minimal force from Pink Power Ranger’s push.
“Watch your hands,” Frog says conversationally.
Pink Power Ranger scoffs. “Seriously? Watch my hands? She’s the one who got into my space. I’m just trying to film a fucking video.”
“Whoa,” I say. “I’m just showing you my dust.”
She gives me a look like I’m out of my mind.
I toss the glitter in the air. Over my own head, so I don’t get any on her. I’m not that mean. It’s about a C-minus distraction because she’s still looking past my shoulder.
“Hallucination dust!” I announce loudly.
This causes heads to swerve in my glittery direction. I’d roast head-to-toe if I embarrassed easily. I don’t. I just keep throwing glitter on myself, and I yell again, “Haaa-LU-CI-nation. DUST!”
“Oh my God,” Pink Power Ranger says in disbelief. “Are you broken or something?”
“Maybe she needs a full reboot?” Someone else from the crowd laughs.
“Maybe scrap her for parts.”
“Hey,” Frog snaps. “Fuck off, you jerks.” She grabs my hand quickly and leads me towards the double doors. None of the girls follow us, and I wonder if they have no interest in LOTR. As soon as we approach, the coordinator raises a hand to stop, and I realize why they’ve stayed outside.
“We’re full,” she says and then squints harder like she might recognize me. The pink wig doesn’t help.
“Luna Hale,” Frog says.
The lady’s face morphs into an ahhh expression. “Right.” She opens the door. “The panel is just starting, so keep your voices low.”
I’m a Hale. My last name grants me access to full capacity panels. It’s always carried a little more weight at events like these. Halway Comics has a few rooms just dedicated to their properties. My mom and dad spend a decent amount of time working the Halway Comics booth and leading panels, so we only occasionally run into them.
Sometimes they wish they could just attend Comic-Cons as fans. They often lament over the glory years where they could, and they want those experiences for us too.
As soon as we slip inside and the doors shut, Frog glares behind us like she can laser beam my enemies with her eyes. At least, I imagine she’d be a great Cyclops. Her gaze softens on me. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I shrug like it’s nothing.
It’s nothing.
It’s nothing.
I repeat it to make it true. Quickly, I scan the room and the rows and rows of chairs. It’s easy to spot Xander considering three bodyguards, including Donnelly, stand a few feet from his end-row seat. His Elvish friend Easton occupies the seat next to him, and three vacant chairs near him have little cards on the seats that must say reserved or something.
Maybe security came ahead to reserve the seats. It’d make sense since they usually scope out areas anyway. Security is sly like that. On stage, actors start walking out to thunderous applause.
“Want to take a seat?” Frog asks me.