Page 32

Jennette

The trivia contest is in the shaded pavilion tent where they had autograph sessions yesterday.

Now the tables are dedicated to small groups.

There are like twenty of us, all with different team names; we chose Misfit Toys for our squad, and the volunteers have written them all dutifully on the whiteboard.

It’s all low-tech and good fun. I crane my neck to see the prizes piled on the tables up front.

“Think we’ll win anything?” I ask quietly.

Poppy shrugs. My money is on Tad for depth and breadth of science fiction lore.

He’s a gamer too, so his knowledge won’t be limited to shows.

The quizmaster has a cordless mic and they made us listen to them sing the Yub Yub song before deigning to get started.

It was kind of adorable in the dorkiest way imaginable.

“Okay, you’ve all been amazing sports. Are you ready to rumble?”

The crowd replies quietly, a murmur of assent. It’s like we think we’re not allowed to get boisterous. But who’s gonna complain?

“I can’t hear you!”

This time, we all shout, “Yeah!”

“Perfect. Now I know you’re awake. First question! What’s the name of Lando Calrissian’s ship?”

I ring my dinner bell immediately. Poppy and Tad are ringing theirs too. More bells are heard after.

“Misfit Toys were first. Your answer?”

“The Millennium Falcon !” I shout.

“Oooh, so sad. That’s incorrect!” The quizmaster calls on someone else.

“ Lady Luck !”

“That’s the response we were looking for!”

I mutter beneath my breath. “That was a trick question.”

According to forum discussions, Lando never should have relinquished the Millennium Falcon to Han, and then there was the question of cheating in that sabacc game. But I guess this trivia contest wants straightforward answers only.

Poppy pats my arm, leaning over to whisper, “I was gonna say that too.”

It’s like I’ve jinxed us, however. We don’t win a bell ring after that, and other teams go up on the board like lightning while we’ve yet to score a point. I sigh quietly.

“Time for a bonus round!” The quizmaster’s eyes gleam beneath an alien-antenna headband. “In which episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation does Data first use contractions?”

“Ugh, I’ve never even watched TNG ,” Tad mutters.

“Come on,” Poppy whispers, nudging me. “You’re the Trekkie among us.”

Fortunately, the other teams seem just as confused. And that’s because there’s a whole thing about contractions, and the question itself is another trick. I ring the bell.

“Misfit Toys, trying to redeem themselves.”

“Data uses contractions in ‘Encounter at Farpoint,’ the pilot episode. But the episode that focuses on contractions is ‘Datalore.’”

“Correct on both counts!” The quizmaster points at us with an exaggerated flourish. “You’re on the board at last, Misfit Toys.”

There are a few more questions, but I don’t know anything about Blake’s 7 or Babylon 5 . Neither do Tad and Poppy. The oldest team takes a significant lead.

“This is age discrimination,” Tad complains.

Poppy grins. “Ah, let the olds have it.”

The final scores are tallied, and I laugh. We’re second to last, a couple of points ahead of the team that spent half the contest arguing whether Han or Greedo shot first.

“Yikes,” Tad says. “I need a drink.”

“Hey, at least we beat the ‘Greedo’s Revenge’ squad.” Poppy gives a thumbs-up to the guys who are desperately trying to make eye contact with her.

“Meh, I play for fun, not for glory,” I say then.

“Oh thank God.” Poppy feigns relief. “My ex was such a sore loser. I had to stop teaming with her. Just before we broke up, she went off on me hard-core when we lost at Scattergories at board game night.”

“Ugh.” None of my exes were that competitive, and they dumped me for reasons that I privately think are bullshit—because they counted on me “growing up” and ceasing to be who I am.

Tad offers a shrug. “Something, something, the friends we made along the way?”

I grin. “Exactly. I’m so glad we’re doing this.”

“I feel like we should hug,” Poppy says. “But feel free to decline.”

I smile as we step into a three-way consolation prize of a hug with Tad at the center, an arm around each of us. When we step back, we’re all smiling.

“This is the happiest I’ve ever felt about losing,” I say.

Poppy pats me on the shoulder. “Thanks for inviting us. I would never have come to something like this on my own.”

I’m about to admit something that makes me look pathetic, but I want them to know how much their friendship means to me. “Remember when I said that nobody from RL could come with me?”

Tad nods and Poppy shoots me a curious look. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Truthfully, there’s nobody to ask. I’ve always struggled to make friends. I had two really close ones…” Even now, it’s tough for me to talk about Nina and Andrew, but I want to be honest with Poppy and Tad.

I want real friends again. And that means opening up to them.

Poppy takes a seat at the back of the tent. They’re switching the setup, but the next event isn’t for twenty minutes. The volunteers are too busy to bother us. Tad perches on a chair nearby, and they’re both regarding me with expectant expressions.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently.

“Yeah. I do. Nina used to be my best friend. We met in grade school. Then Andrew moved in next door to me, and I asked him to sit with us on his first day of junior high.”

“That’s so nice of you,” Poppy says. “We moved around a lot, and I remember how awkward it was, being the new kid.”

I smile at the memory. “He was so funny. Stand-up comedian material. Both Drew and Nina were drama kids. So I joined to hang out with them. Did props and stage management.”

“I was a drama kid too,” Poppy declares.

“Not me. AV club all the way,” Tad puts in.

I can tell they’re sharing to make this easier for me. “Drew and Nina had crushes on each other for years. And I was in the middle, listening to their gooey secrets. They’d waffle, going back and forth. ‘What if we ruin our friendship?’”

“Did they or didn’t they?” Poppy asks.

“They did. Finally. Right before graduation. And they were an amazing couple.” I don’t mention how much of a third wheel I felt after that.

“Were?” Of course Tad picked up on that.

It’s a four-letter word, practically a curse. “Yeah. Freshman year of college, we lost Andrew to a drunk driver, and Nina stopped replying to my texts.”

It wasn’t my fault; I wasn’t even there. We all went to different schools, and she needed a clean break, I guess. I remind her too much of what she lost.

But I lost him too. And her as well—by choice.

“Oh my God,” Poppy breathes. “Jen, I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.”

And I never recovered. I had roommates in college, not friends.

They were polite, nothing more. Once we graduated, they weren’t interested in keeping in touch.

Nobody is, it seems like. Nothing about me ever makes people want to stay.

Not even Nina, the person who braided my hair, listened to my secrets, and made me a friendship bracelet that said 4-ever on it.

“Well, that’s bullshit,” Tad says. He actually looks pissed, and Tad is such a chill guy. “It sounds like she blames you or something.”

Poppy moves closer, her hand hovering on the verge of a comforting pat. “Some people turtle when they’re hurting. She might regret it. I bet she misses you. Possibly it’s been so long now that she doesn’t know what to say or how to say it.”

It’s more likely that I’ve been written off, but I appreciate Poppy trying to find some brightness in my depressing history. “Thank you for listening. The only reason I told you is so you understand how much your friendship means to me.”

“Aw.” She tips her head back, blinking rapidly as she takes a deep breath. “So help me, if you make me ruin my makeup… Anyway, back at you. I’m so glad we met.”

Tad clears his throat. “Me too. We already hugged, though. And I think we should move along before the next event starts.”

“Good point.” I get up and head off.

The others follow. As we walk, Tad leans in, lowering his voice. “On another note, did you guys notice anything weird about the way Jaz dragged Seeker off?”

Ugh. I didn’t want to think about that. I suspect Tad has a crush on Jaz; that’s why he pays extra attention to what she does.

And I can’t blame him. She’s so talented and graceful and effortlessly poised.

I bet she’s never awkward at parties and she doesn’t tip coffee down her front when she gets excited.

I’m not jealous of her, but what if Seeker admires her the way I do? We have been flirting online, but maybe I don’t measure up in person. Wait, no. I don’t want to be insecure. He’s shared a huge secret with me. I have to cling to that.

It’s not like he’s some intergalactic lothario on a quest to sow his seed with as many human women as possible before taking off at the speed of light. This isn’t some weird fifties pulp movie full of screaming Marilyn-style blonds who are desperately afraid of what those tentacles might do.

Poppy nods, her curls bouncing. “Yeah, it was a little odd and pointed.”

“This might sound paranoid, but do you think they’re planning something without us?” Tad raises an eyebrow.

“Does anyone have a birthday coming up?” I ask as we head back toward the stalls.

That would be a sweet reason for them to be scheming. But mine’s not until October and I prefer not to celebrate it.

“Not me. December twenty-eighth. I’ve gotten Christmas-slash-birthday gifts my whole life.” Poppy seems not to mind, however, as it sounds like more of a statement than a complaint.

“Aw. Poor you.” Tad offers a comforting pat. “As for me, I aged up in March, so it’s already past.”

“You should have said something! I would have…” I pause. What’s appropriate for an online friend you haven’t met in person yet? “Sent an e-card and done a digital design in honor of the occasion.”

I’m not a pro at digital art, but I’m confident I could have come up with something cute for Tad’s birthday.

Maybe not beautiful enough for him to print and frame, but my mom is always telling Glynnis and me that it’s the thought that counts.

I actually don’t always agree with that, depending on how bad the present is.

But I’ll forgive a lot of clumsiness if I trust in the giver’s good intentions.

“That’s sweet,” Tad says. “Well, if you still want to next year, it’s March fourteenth.”

Poppy stops walking and I draw her out of the flow of foot traffic before she gets run over by a squad of stormtroopers. “Hear me out. They’ve been abducted by aliens and replaced with slightly off-kilter clones who hate trivia.”

I nearly choke on my urgency to change the subject. But it will seem bizarre if I suddenly start talking about something else. “Good one.”

“Should we do some sleuthing?” Tad asks.

I’m curious what Jaz wanted with Seeker, but I don’t know that it’s a good idea to dig into Seeker’s secrets. At least not as a group.

But Poppy seems intrigued. Dammit.

“Maybe they were hungry. Or Ravik might have asked Jaz for help with a personal problem,” I suggest.

“Then why involve Seeker especially?” Tad points out. “I could give advice. So can Poppy or you.”

“I’m good at picking up subtext. There is something going on,” Poppy agrees.

Crap. If I keep arguing, it will look like I know something. And I do . I’m just not confident that I know everything about the group’s dynamics or Seeker’s intentions. I know he’s not from here—and at this point, that’s basically the long and short of it.

And you invited him to move in with you.

The fact that he didn’t jump on that offer…

I’m not sure how I feel about it. On one hand, it speaks well of him that he’s hesitant to impose, even if he’s desperate.

But maybe there are other factors at play.

I only have his word for why he’s here. There might be more sinister implications, not that I’ve ever put much stock in the alien-invasion trope.

There must be much easier ways to get resources than to pillage a local population, right?

Humans have done exactly that so many times, but that doesn’t mean Seeker’s people are the same.

If they’re technologically advanced enough to have rules in place about visiting lower-tech worlds and uplifting, they should have even more regulations about hostile actions.

Dammit, I don’t want to have these doubts. I believe he’s a good person. I do .

There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.