Page 17

Jennette

Seeker is studying me.

But before he acts on whatever he’s thinking about, Jaz runs toward us through the crowd. Tad trails her in deceptively casual strides.

Jaz is carrying a few extra bags; she must have found the exhibition hall. I’m curious about what she’s bought, but she’s practically vibrating with excitement. “Did you hear about the party? Well, party and costume contest.”

“And space-themed karaoke!” Tad says with a broad smile.

“It will be ‘Space Oddity’ and ‘Rocket Man,’ forty-seven times,” I predict.

But it’s not a complaint, just a certainty about my own people. I belong to the Dork Tower collective, after all, and we’re nothing if not consistent. I consider my own options. What would I sing at special space karaoke?

Hmm…

It has to be “We Must Believe in Magic,” assuming the song’s featured in the list. I first heard it watching reruns of the Muppets as a little kid, and the charm of the song stayed with me, sort of haunting, and despite its simplicity, it also felt epic somehow.

Listening to it made me think of a crew out among the stars, setting off on an amazing voyage.

“I texted Ravik and Poppy,” Jaz says. “They’re meeting us at the venue.”

We make our way through the crowd as a group with Tad cracking jokes and Jaz encouraging him. Seeker is quiet, enough that I’m a little worried about him, but I don’t want to draw attention to his mood. If he wanted to confide in us, he would.

In passing, the smell of kettle corn makes me hungry, but I can hold out for one more session.

The biggest building at the fairgrounds has been decorated to contain everyone who’s interested in attending.

I decide that the cash bar is genius, as are the snack stands set up at regular intervals.

Part of the floor is dedicated to dancing, and people are as bad at it as you might imagine, except for the guy doing the robot.

They’ve decorated the place like a spaceship with shiny silver streamers and strobing lights.

Left to my own devices, I’d probably flee the scene immediately.

But I want to stay with everyone a bit longer. And by everyone, I mean Seeker. After all, I try not to lie to myself. It’s counterproductive.

Poppy finds us first. She’s not with Ravik, which doesn’t surprise me at all. They might have already bailed on the social aspects—no, there they are, carefully weaving through the excited, noisy bodies nearby. Their alien look really is seamless, impressive in every detail.

Poppy’s Klingon warrior prosthetics are probably starting to annoy her by now.

I love dressing up, but the more complicated the costume, the quicker I want it off.

I’ve designed incredible, involved outfits, but at peak, I wore each of them just long enough to be judged and then immediately started disrobing.

Textures often bother me to the point that I could start yelling my head off, a huge issue when you’d prefer to be invisible.

“Everyone have a good day?” Poppy asks.

“Totally,” Jaz says.

“Chitchat later,” Tad urges. “Let’s fill out our request slips and get in line for karaoke. There’s a big crowd! We might not get a turn before they shut down for the night.”

“Oh no,” Ravik intones with mock dismay.

That makes me laugh, but I’m siding with Tad.

I follow him happily, ready to throw myself into the fun.

Dance like nobody’s watching, isn’t that what they say?

For once, I can handle the attention, as this is the kindest audience I’ll ever encounter.

They’re cheering raucously for the guy currently emulating Shatner’s spoken-word rendition of “Rocket Man.”

They don’t have the song I wanted in the playlist, but I find “Weird Science.” That’ll do. I scrawl my request and hand it to the volunteer who’s managing the karaoke session. Seeker appears at my shoulder.

“May I participate in your performance?” he asks.

Such a formal way to ask to sing with me. I’m already nodding, though. “Of course! Do you know the song?”

“I am reviewing it now,” he says.

Like all of this is super serious, life or death, not a bit of convention fun.

But he’s an intense person, very focused on doing and saying the right things.

It occurs to me that this probably stems from feeling socially awkward, and do I ever relate to that.

I wish I could say, Stop worrying, these are your people.

But it’s a lot easier to say that than to internalize it. I know that personally as well.

We’re treated to a terrible version of “Across the Universe,” a decent “Mr. Roboto,” and an amazing cover of “Silent Running.” For a moment, we’re all quiet, and then the whole room sounds off with applause and sincere cheering.

The slight, timid guy with the unexpectedly incredible voice smiles, pushes his glasses up on his nose, and then acknowledges the praise with a tiny bow before rejoining the audience.

I’m wondering who will have to follow that when they call Poppy and Jaz.

Jaz sounds like an angel; I think Poppy is lip-synching.

If she’s singing, it’s not very loud. I don’t know if “Defying Gravity” counts as a sci-fi song, but it has gravity in the title and it’s popular.

More importantly, Jaz is killing it. Since she plays violin, I shouldn’t be surprised she can sing too, but I can scarcely breathe for how good she is.

I’m riveted…and so is Seeker. Though he hasn’t paid Jaz particular attention before, now he can’t look away.

She presses one hand to her chest, absolutely nailing the crescendo, and she even ad-libs some gorgeous runs, nothing excessive.

These embellishments are perfectly controlled, not over-sung, as they say on the TV singing competitions I’ve watched now and then.

When she wraps up, everyone screams their heads off.

“Whew,” the volunteer says. “I had no idea we had so much talent at Space Con! Let’s hear it for Jaz! And Poppy.”

Another round of applause, though it’s obvious who stole that round.

“You sang beautifully,” Seeker says.

Well, crap. Now I’m jealous. I don’t want to be. It’s petty. But I am.

Jaz smiles. “Thanks. Normally I’m too nervous to open my mouth onstage, but everyone here is so nice.”

Poppy doesn’t seem to mind. “I’m just glad I didn’t embarrass myself.”

“I don’t want to sing now,” Tad mumbles.

“You already put our names down,” Ravik points out.

And the volunteer calls them up. No escape.

The two of them are beyond awkward at first, and for reasons known only to Tad, he’s put them down for “Intergalactic” by the Beastie Boys.

But to my surprise, Ravik steps up and brings the swagger necessary to sell the song.

Tad seems stunned but he manages to halfway match the energy and soon they’re bouncing around, giving attitude and dropping the lyrics with conviction.

“Ravik! You didn’t tell us about your secret ambitions to be a hip-hop star,” I joke.

They give me a look, but I’m not sure how to interpret it. “Have we concluded the noisy portion of the evening’s entertainment?”

“When you say shit like that, it makes me want to yell in your ear,” Poppy says. She seems to enjoy poking at Ravik in person even more than she did online.

Now everyone else has gone from our little group, and they totally killed it, albeit in different styles.

I’m even more nervous when they call our names.

I don’t want to be the weakest link. Despite my doubts, I head to the front with Seeker beside me.

The first strains of “Weird Science” start and there’s no screen with a bouncing ball for me to follow along with either. There’s only a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Luckily, this is a song that demands enthusiasm, not precision.

Seeker watches me instead of the audience, taking cues from me.

When I do a little dance on the line about hearts and hands, he mimics my silly moves, matching my enthusiasm.

And on the next verse, when I point at someone in the crowd, inviting them to shout the chorus, he does the same. We’re totally in synch.

We may not be the most talented, but it doesn’t matter—we’re having a blast. And so is the crowd.

Their laughter and cheers echo back to us, energizing me.

By the end, they’re chanting “weird science” along with us.

I sneak a look at my partner, but he is as impassive as ever, his face giving away nothing of his emotions.

I wonder why he doesn’t smile, even when he seems to be having fun.

At least, I think he likes doing things with me.

The DJ says, “Let’s give these two a hand!” and I impulsively take a bow.

Seeker does too, then follows me back toward the group. “I have never done anything like that before,” he says.

“I hope I didn’t push you into—”

“No. I wanted to share the experience with you.” He pauses as if contemplating his next words. “There is some pressure for excellence in such matters where I’m from.”

“Ah, the achievement ladder. I know people who won’t do anything if they’re not great at it.”

“But…enjoyment matters,” he declares.

“It definitely does.” And Seeker makes everything better. “I was kind of nervous. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

We share a look, and I wish I could say that I see his eyes sparkle or some visual cue that means he’s feeling this too.

But instead, his face is still and static, almost like a photo.

I frown, confused by what feels like mixed messages.

The others rush in our direction, lights flashing as the next performer starts singing.

“You two have mad chemistry!” Poppy calls, waggling her eyebrows beneath the ridges of her Klingon forehead ridge.

“Definitely,” Tad says. “Anyone else hungry?”

“I could eat,” I admit. It’s been a while. But the food trucks have all closed for the night, so there are only snacks on-site now. I add, “Should we go get dinner? I can take four people in my car if anyone needs a ride.”

That said, folding Tad into my back seat will be tough. But he shakes his head. “We should just meet up. Pick a restaurant?”

Most places are staying open late, special Space Con hours, so we don’t need to worry about all the eateries closing their doors at 8:00 p.m. We get out our phones and agree on a comfort-food place that looks good. Seeker follows me as we split up to find our cars.

A happy sensation washes away my minor pang of jealousy from before; I’m mildly irritated with myself over that.

He’s not my boyfriend. I have no right to feel any kind of way over him liking how Jaz sings.

Everyone loved how she sounded, judging by the reaction.

It’s not like Seeker was alone in thinking she’s good.

“Are we coming back to the party?” he asks.

“I’m not sure. Depends on how long it takes to eat, how late it is. Do you want to?”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as I’m with you.”