Girls Save the World in This One - Ash Parsons Page 0,1

not even the fact that there’s a massive zit in the crease of my right nostril—and it looks horrible and hurts, too—on this day, this one day, when I’m going to take a million pictures and when I even have a coveted photo op with one of the stars of Human Wasteland.

The photo is the pièce de résistance of this, my first con experience.

The car line for the drop-off circle creeps forward, and Mom finally changes the subject from college and the SAT.

“Has your mom had a longer commute with all the protesters?” she asks Imani.

Imani’s mom, Naomi, is a civilian contractor on the nearby army arsenal test range. There’s been talk recently that USAMRIID (the US Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases) has established a field office at our arsenal, which would make sense if it’s true, because Senoybia is also within an easy commute of the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta.

But a lot of people don’t like the idea of the army medical research field office on a test range, and so there’s been an influx of protestors outside the arsenal gates.

“No, Mom says the drive time is about the same,” Imani answers. “But last week she dropped off two boxes of donuts on her way in: one for the protestors, and one for the military police at the gate.”

“I just love that,” Mom says. “So diplomatic and thoughtful.”

Imani quirks a smile at Mom.

“Well, everyone also waves and gets out of the way for her now,” Imani says.

Mom laughs and turns onto the road that runs along the front of the convention center drop-off circle. She whistles low. “Wow. That’s a lot of people.”

“I told you it was a big deal,” I say, the words snapping between my teeth sharper than I mean, but would you look at that line?

“I know,” Mom says. “I mean, I knew. But still. Wow.”

Outside the car window, the rising sun tinges the silhouette of the convention center a pinkish gray, like a Hollywood backdrop only not in LA but here, in basic, boring, nice-place-to-raise-kids Senoybia, Georgia.

I’m not joking, they actually put that in the tourism brochures and on, like, the town website and stuff. Not that it’s dull, just that it’s a great “family town!” And stuff like “Slow down! Give Senoybia a try!”

It’s a nice place, sure. But I can’t blame anyone, Imani especially, for looking forward to graduation and college. Our high school is like only 10 percent students of color. It’s embarrassing how white it is.

So, I am excited for Imani next year, no matter where she goes, or how far away, because I know she’s really looking forward to a larger city, and being around more people like her, black or Asian or biracial, and being in a town that isn’t quite so Mayberry.

I mean, I’m looking forward to that, too! For my own self. It’s just . . . I’m not entirely sure I’m graduating. Or getting into a college.

Anyway, it’s a miracle that ZombieCon! is even here. I’m serious, it’s like a gift from the fandom gods just to me. ZombieCon! travels around the country, but it usually only hits the really big cities. Your Los Angeleses, your Houstons, your Chicagos, your New Yorks. Not my Senoybia. But there had been a contest, with the tagline: “Is your city A WASTELAND?” that encouraged fans to petition the fanfest, and tell them why ZombieCon! should come to their town. I boosted the posts nominating Senoybia, and so did Imani, and Siggy. Blair did, too, back before I learned about what she did. When I still thought she was my friend.

Even thinking of her name summons a particular pain. Still new. Betrayal. This is what it feels like: shame, anger, and hurt, like sandpaper made of shattered glass, rubbing under your skin.

I shake my head to stop thinking about her.

Anyway, Senoybia won the contest, and our convention center was approved as the location. It’s big enough, and new enough, and there’s even a luxury hotel attached to the convention center by a skyway. I mean, they want you to call it a skyway,