Page 2 of Love at Full Tilt
Time to stop worrying. I’ve seen what it does to my mother, how her thoughts transform the smallest issue into a black hole that swallows everything around it.
I refuse to get caught up in that cycle.
In mere hours, I will step into my favorite place on earth with my two best friends, and in six short days, I will win enough money to change my life.
There’s a smorgasbord of good stuff staring me in the face.
A buffet of joy, if you will. I’m going to focus on that.
Taking a slow, deep breath, I silently recite the first clue of the scavenger hunt like it’s a reset code: Find the place where toast becomes bread and always adorned will be the royal head.
Issy perches beside me and drags my carry-on between us, lettingout an exaggerated huff at the weight. “What do you have in here? Bricks?”
“Among other things,” I quip. Yanking the zipper down, I heft out a stack of five composition notebooks and set them in her lap, then pull the flap further open to get the manila envelope full of images and maps, which I offer to Tess, along with a Fableland visitor’s guide. “This is most of my research.”
The scavenger hunt was open to any member of Fableland’s three biggest fan forums who is over eighteen. Everyone who got in was practically raised on Fable Industry’s films and some of them visit the park multiple times a year. I need to be prepared.
Concern pulls at Issy’s mouth as she skims the first notebook, pausing here and there to read a page. “You can recite most of this from memory.”
“And you’ve read this”—Tess brandishes the guide’s well-worn spine—“enough times that it’s begging for death.” As if agreeing, one of its middle pages flutters to the floor.
I snatch it up and fold the glossy paper delicately in my lap. “The more information I have, the better.”
Issy wrings her hands on top of the stack of notebooks. “Lia,” she says carefully, “you know we want you to win, right?”
“But you have, like, a one percent chance,” Tess adds. “The odds aren’t exactly in your favor.”
Issy smacks Tess on the arm. “What Tess is trying to say is that we don’t want to see you get your heart broken if, for some reason, things don’t work out. We want you to have fun on this trip. We’re going to your favorite place on earth!”
My chest tightens, but I refuse to let their words in. I can win this scavenger hunt. I will.
My whole life, Fable Industry has been a sanctuary.
When I was little, its animated movies were a place of happiness and love where good always conquered evil and life made sense and even the darkest corners of the world held a spark of magic.
As I got older, and my mom’s anxiety worsened, I’d escape to those movies, or online to the lists upon lists of Fableland’s myths and secrets.
Reading about secret menu items and hidden spaces and fabled surprises—like the unicorn kept among the horses on Casterman’s Carousel or the fountain so full of rings from every couple married in the park that it overflows with circles of gold, not water—helped remind me there was still magic out there.
“People beat bad odds all the time.” Pulling a sudoku book out of my bag, I wave it at Tess. “I’m a puzzle master. And I practically have a PhD in Fableland. I mean, I had the first clue figured out in ten minutes.” I didn’t even have to consult my research.
Issy angles herself to face me fully. The airport’s fluorescent bulbs illuminate the caramel highlights in her hair.
“Just remember to have fun too, okay? If you want, we can find all the Sunspark Easter eggs and pretend we’re in seventh grade again fangirling over Elorra and Oliver.
” I purse my lips, and Issy’s hands squeeze into fists like she’s afraid she’s upset me.
Her thumb fusses with the thin gold flower-chain ring on her index finger.
I’d given both her and Tess one for Christmas in middle school, but Tess stopped wearing hers ages ago.
Tess nods emphatically, her long hair bouncing around her shoulders. “We have to go to that shop in Vale of Villainy with the weird food.” She grabs my arm and shakes it. “And our hotel has that space-grotto-themed pool. How hot will we look lying out under the stars?”
I have to swallow the urge to remind her that most people don’t see my plus-size body as hot. “I want to do all those things,” I say instead. “But I also want to win. You know what this could mean for me.”
“Real freedom,” Issy says, echoing my mantra of the past few weeks.
“We just don’t want you to be disappointed,” Tess insists.
I appreciate their concern, but that scenario—and any other where the scavenger hunt doesn’t end with me winning the money—doesn’t exist. If I don’t consider it, it can’t happen. I plan to sway the orbit of the universe with my eternal optimism.
The power of positive thinking and all that.
Before I can respond, a woman’s voice bursts from the overhead speaker.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we will now begin boarding flight 327 to Orlando, Florida. Any passengers who have requested extra boarding time may proceed to the gate area.” Abandoning our seats, the three of us cram together at the corner of the gate to wait impatiently for our boarding group to be called.
I let out another breath. It’s almost here. Six days of freedom. Six days to win this contest. No parents. No curfews. No worries. A smile takes over my face. It infects Issy next, and thenTess.
We leave our questions and worries at the gate. Shedding them like an old skin or an outdated outfit.
When the gate agent invites everyone else to board, Tess lets out a squeal. We brandish our boarding passes and step onto the bridge, our steps shaking the flimsy structure as Tess proclaims, “Let Operation Freedom commence!”