Twelfth Knight by Alexene Farol Follmuth

Author:Alexene Farol Follmuth
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tor Publishing Group

Vi

In a lot of ways, conventions are like Disneyland: the happiest place on earth. By and large, everyone is friendly, accepting, and smiling, including me. But lest you forget that the antis on Reddit are also likely to attend a con, there’s the support line. It’s a nice reminder that while the internet allows a convenient cover of anonymity, it doesn’t change the fact that some people just are what they are.

When it comes to that special genre of buzzkills, Antonia and I made a great team. I played bad cop, of course, reminding the bully in question that he’s not actually king of the world, and then Antonia brought it home with an apology so impossibly earnest he’d wind up flustered, torn between glaring at me and staring at her in confusion.

Jack Orsino has a slightly different approach.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just make this go faster,” says someone in a ConQuest T-shirt. It says CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON, followed by the images of several different dice, and I loathe that I want it. “You people are exactly the problem,” the dice guy adds under his breath, which is funny, because I was just thinking he’s the exact kind of con-goer who thinks that Jack and I are here to steal something that rightfully belongs to him.

Never mind that I’ve been in fandom for, oh, only my whole life or whatever. And even if Jack is new to it, that doesn’t mean he should get shut out.

“Wait, is the line slow?” asks Jack, with a look so incredibly vacuous I have to actively work at not laughing.

Don’t get me wrong—most people I’m happy to help. But others …

“Yes,” says Dice Guy, getting red-faced. “We’ve been waiting for over an hour!”

“Oh my god, an hour?” Jack echoes, again with palpable concern.

“Listen,” Dice Guy says angrily, “that’s not funny—”

“I agree,” Jack cuts in, turning to me. “Do you think it’s funny, Vi?”

“Did he say he’s been waiting for forty-five minutes, Jack?” I reply.

“No, Vi. An hour,” Jack tells me solemnly.

“An hour?”

“An hour,” Jack repeats.

“A whole hour?” I say, aghast.

“This is seriously messed up,” Dice Guy interrupts with a growl.

“I agree,” I reply. I’m not sure what our approach technically is—it’s not good cop/bad cop so much as let’s see who can be more annoying—but it’s certainly making the time go faster.

“I’d like to speak to your manager,” Dice Guy informs me.

“Me too,” says Jack with his usual sport-star grin. “I’m thirsty.”

“When you speak to our manager, please inform them that Jack would like a Pellegrino,” I tell Dice Guy, whose cheeks flare again.

“Listen, you little—”

“I am not especially picky,” I assure him. “Tap water will be fine.”

“Show-off,” says Jack, sending Dice Guy off in a huff before the universe rewards us with the sweetest seventy-two-year-old Empire Lost fan the world’s ever seen. (Her barcode got messed up by her new baby grandson, named after the hero of the franchise.)

After pledging my life to my new idol, Maura, who started a fanzine

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