Girls Save the World in This One - Ash Parsons Page 0,20
girl, wondering if the session would have gone on longer, if I would have been able to ask my question, and also wondering if he smelled good and if that girl can die happy now that she got a selfie and a hug.
Ugh.
“Ugh,” Siggy says as they reach me.
“Ugh.” Imani hands over my backpack and starts to lead the way out. “That’s so unfair!”
“Yep,” I say, but they know how I feel already; they heard me practice my question all week.
We step out into the airy hallway, and file onto the down escalator.
“Okay, we’re not going to let that ruin our day but can I just say, that was so much BS.” Imani runs a hand over her side-sweep of wavy hair.
“It was,” I agree. “I’m just gonna be in my emotions about it for a little bit more.”
“We still have the photo op,” Siggy says. “Maybe you can ask your question then.”
“Yeah,” Imani says.
“That’s for all of us, though,” I say. “It’s okay, I promise.”
I say it because I can see that they want to push the issue. They want to swear that they don’t mind and I should ask my question at the photo op.
But the photo op isn’t about me asking my question. It’s just a quick moment, to memorialize our day, and beyond that our friendship (and how much we love Hunter and Human Wasteland), and I’m not going to change that.
“The photo op is going to be great!” I continue. “I can’t wait until we’re all there together.”
We step off the escalator and walk forward, past the floor-to-ceiling exterior window wall and around the volcanic rock waterfalls to the bottleneck forming at the center set of exhibit hall doors.
“I just hope I can act cool during it, and not become a complete dork,” I say.
“You are cool,” Imani says.
“Thanks, Mom.” I roll my eyes at her.
She thwaps my shoulder, laughing. “Stop that, young lady.”
“June, you really are, you know.” Siggy adjusts the side-tie of her jumpsuit while we wait in line. “You’re cool and awesome and hilarious, too.”
“Aw, stop.” I feel my eyes start to well up. “You’re fun and beautiful and you have such a free spirit, Siggy.”
Imani gives a polite little cough. Ahem.
I turn to her, smiling.
“And you’re absolutely brilliant and loyal and your convictions are such a force for good, Imani,” I tell her.
Imani loops an arm around me.
“June, you’ve got the best sense of humor, you’re so smart no matter what you say, and you have the biggest heart of anybody I ever met.”
“Stop, I’m gonna cry,” I say.
“Too late,” Siggy says.
“What are we gonna do next fall?” I ask.
“I don’t want to think about it,” Siggy says.
“We’ll talk all the time,” Imani reassures us.
Siggy swipes her fingers under her eyes. “Aw hell, why don’t I ever have any Kleenex?”
Imani hands us tissues out of her purse and even has to dab at her own eyes.
We all stand in line, in our little trio, dabbing at our eyes and honking our noses and saying I love you guys so much and Stop talking, okay? I’m still crying and Siggy starts humming the theme from The Golden Girls and that gets us over the emotional hump.
We inch forward, waiting to show our badges to the door guards. Behind us, there’s a ruckus, a person shouting “Whoa!” and laughter.
I turn and there are two people in head-to-toe hazmat suits pushing through the crowd, holding up some kind of scanner, sweeping it at people.
Imani laughs, and she lifts her phone for some pictures.
“Weirdos,” Siggy laughs.
“No, it’s cool!” I half wish I was cosplaying, but then decide I want to experience my first con as me.
In front of us, two zombies, a man and woman, sink a little when they see the hazmat guys.