and someone in a high-necked, old-fashioned dress, with a covered wagon over her head, and carrying a sign that says I HAVE DYSENTERY Ã la this old-school computer game called Oregon Trail . The last rightfully ends up taking the grand prize, and the entire room breaks out into loud applause as the girl picks up her $200 gift card for Forbidden Planet.
âCome on,â Roxana says to me, and before I know it, she has slipped her hand into mine and locked arms with Felicia on her other side and is expertly guiding us back to the front of the room.
âWhere are we going?â I ask, but I donât get a response until we stop.
âExcuse me, Mr. Shah,â she politely says to the balding head in front of us that is still facing the stage. The writer turns around. âSorry to bother you. Weâre just huge fans. My friend Graham especially. Heâs a brilliant writer too.â
She indicates me, and I blush furiously as Emmett puts out his hand to shake mine.
âAn aspiring writer.â I correct Roxyâs assessment of me as I let go of her hand to pump his.
Emmett grins. âDo you write a lot?â he asks.
I nod. âTry to. We have sessions at least once a week.â I turn to gesture to Roxana, who I notice is slipping away.
âWell, then. Thereâs no aspiring about it. If you write, youâre a writer.Maybe getting paid for it is a different can of worms, but being a writer itself? Donât doubt thatâs what you are.â
A slow smile spreads across my face. âThank you, sir. That means a lot coming from you. Iâve read your work since I was little. All of it.â
âWell, then, thank you . Graham, right?â
I nod.
âGood luck, Graham. And great costume.â He gives me one last smile before taking a worn baseball cap from his back pocket, jamming it onto his head, and moving along toward the exit.
The smile on my face stays there as I watch him pick his way through the crowd. Wow. I just had a conversation with Emmett Shah and he made me feel like a real writer. I feel a little bit like I could fly.
I look for Roxy to thank her for making that happen. But when I finally find her, my mood instantly plummets.
She and Felicia are against the wall, talking again to Devin, who actually smiles when he sees me. âHey, man! Did you have a good time?â he asks.
âSure,â I say. Christ. Does the stud crumpet have to be devastatingly handsome, British, and nice ?
âSo Devin just had a great idea,â Roxana says. Oh, right. Letâs not forget brilliant , too. Why not? âDevin?â
âWell, itâs almost four p.m. and that Robert Zinc panel should be letting out. I thought maybe we could go stand near that hallway. Just in case he leaves that way? You guys wouldnât mind catching a glimpseof him, right?â He bestows a grin on all of us and I grouchily wonder what happened to the cliché that all Brits have terrible teeth.
Yeah, fine. It is a great idea.
Score a million points for you, Stud Crumpet , I think as I follow the three of them toward Stage 1-E, the scene of my most recent utter failure.
Chapter 11
Confessions
of a
Secondary
Character
THE STAFFERS FROM EARLIER WERE rightâweâre no longer allowed to get anywhere near Stage 1-E. Ropes are set up right by the entrance to its hallway, guarded by staffers with scan guns. Right now, they mainly seem to be scanning green wristbands. I eye the reptilian silhouette on one of them and assume itâs for the Godzilla: Unleashed screening.
Iâve texted Casey to let him know where we are, and heâs approaching us now, holding something white and in a clear plastic casing above his head. âGot it,â he says as he nears, flipping over his acquisition so that we can see it. âPeter Mayhew.â
âOh. Right.â I look at the scrawled signature on my dadâs pictureand feel a little guilty for totally