the VIP pass.
He sort of pushes my leg. “I’m just saying it’s fun. You’re going to love it.” A goofy, endearing smile takes over his face as we pull into his driveway. He jumps out of the car and starts doing the robot with my low beams as his spotlight.
I can wait to tell him, I decide when he robot dances to my door to open it for me. He’s too excited about this. Too sweet. If I can’t go to the convention, I want to at least have this night with him. And I want it to be unmarred by my stupid lies and my all-around life suckiness.
I tuck the VIP pass deeper in my purse and force myself to forget it.
When we get inside, Martha is doing the dishes.
“Oh, Maddie, you look great. Give me a twirl.” She swishes her finger in a circle, flinging soap bubbles onto the kitchen floor. I spin, and she applauds. “You must be from the Trulu race, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you have blue paint?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How about some black eyeliner for the ceremonial face tattoos?”
“Well, I have some in my purse I could—”
“Oh, honey, don’t use your good stuff. I have some I put aside just for this kind of thing. It’s in the drawer by the sink in the upstairs bathroom.” She points at the ceiling.
Logan shows me to the upstairs bathroom and leaves to put on his own outfit. I put on the blue tights, stretching and yanking until they feel comfortable. The face paint isn’t like a Smurf blue, thank goodness. It’s more like a muted baby blue. It should be enough of a disguise so no one knows who I really am, especially since I’m adding these monstrous eyelashes and the ceremonial tattoos. It probably doesn’t matter anyway. Logan said the majority of the players are college students.
I’m just finishing up drawing my tattoos, pretty swirls that seem to flow from my eyes, when Logan appears in the doorway over my shoulder in the mirror. I stop midswirly.
He’s wearing black jeans and an amazingly hot black biker jacket over a white T-shirt. His normally casual bedhead hair is now perfectly styled bedhead hair. He also has light blue skin, but his tattoos are understated, just dots in a straight line that go from ear to ear crossing the bridge of his nose. He props himself against the door frame, and my mind goes blank.
“I like the viney things you have going on there.”
I clear my throat because it has suddenly gone dry. “Thanks. You look very…” I trail off because I almost said elf-a-licious. “Very believable.”
“I have done this more than a few times.” He grins. I feel a twinge of anger at myself for missing all those more than a few times.
“You never told me you were a Trulu, too.”
He steps into the bathroom, which is pretty small, so he’s only about a foot and a half behind me. There goes my heart again, thrumming inside my chest so hard I can feel it in my ears.
“I just made the character today. I figured it would make more sense if we were of the same race because I’ll probably be around you a lot.”
“My hero,” I say in a breathy voice.
“Not that you wouldn’t be able to handle yourself, but…” He rolls his eyes. “You ready?”
…
We decide to ride together in his car because he’s trying to be a gentleman. We turn down a street lined with big, beautiful houses all with enormous doors and topiaries that guard the driveways.
“I told Dan he could ride with us. I hope that’s okay?”
“Of course.” The guy has already heard me belch. I don’t think him seeing me in elf garb could be any more embarrassing than that, even if he thought it was Logan belching and not me.
As we pull up to one of the biggest houses I’ve ever seen this close, I try to list all the people who know about my double life in my head. I can only think of three: Logan, Dan, and Martha who, let’s face it, doesn’t seem like the type to go around gossiping about the activities of the girl who’s hanging out with her son. This is good. This is manageable. If I can keep it down to only these few people, who knows how long I can continue to indulge in being nerdy-me and all the perks that come with it.
Dan barrels out of his front door carrying two twelve packs of