it. If she wanted to dig out the poison in her personal landscape, that was how to go about it.
Leaving her notebook and remediation list within sight, she woke her laptop from hibernation mode and maximized her Twitter window. Chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment. Nodded to herself.
In the end, it took only seconds. She located Marcus’s invitation amid her ballooning notifications and clicked Retweet with comment.
I would be delighted to have dinner with you, @MarcusCasterRupp. Thank you for your kind invitation. Feel free to slide into my DMs to work out details.
Lavineas Server
Thread: WTAF Is Up with Dido
Unapologetic Lavinia Stan: I mean, first the show totally ignored the books by having her actually die on that funeral pyre, but I guess you could say they were going old-school there (as in, *Virgil*-old). But having Juno bring her back from the dead? Then making Dido some sort of crazed, power-hungry, sex-starved, scorned woman basically boiling bunnies in her Aeneas obsession? As the thread title indicates: WTAF?
Mrs. Pius Aeneas: She’s completely unrecognizable from the Dido in Wade’s books.
Book!AeneasWouldNever: Even Virgil’s Dido, before Aeneas’s arrival and the intervention of Venus, was a supremely competent ruler. I hate to say it, but
Unapologetic Lavinia Stan: But what?
Book!AeneasWouldNever: The show’s Dido has never been anything more than a misogynistic caricature. Carah Brown’s talents are wasted in the role, although she’s the only reason the character has any gravitas. Once they get past Wade’s books, it’ll only get worse.
Unapologetic Lavinia Stan: But why make that narrative choice? It’s so much less interesting than what Wade or even Virgil did.
Book!AeneasWouldNever: I suspect it has a lot to do with how the showrunners view women.
4
HER CELL BUZZED FROM ATOP THE HOTEL ROOM DESK, and April rested her forehead against the faux-wood surface. She lifted her head, only to drop it again with a muted thud.
Without even looking, she knew who was calling and why. At some point, her mom was going to hear about the date with Marcus happening that night. It was only a matter of time, but April had appreciated every minute of it.
And now, her time was up.
One glance at the display confirmed her fears, and she heaved a sigh before tapping the screen. “Hi, Mom.”
“Honey, I just saw a picture of you on Entertainment All-Access. I think.” Her mother sounded both startled and confused. “You were wearing some sort of old-fashioned dress?”
April had wondered yesterday whether JoAnn’s favorite show to watch during dinner prep would feature the story. Evidently, she had her answer. “That was me. In my Lavinia costume. You know, from Gods of the Gates?”
“Oh, my heavens.” Her mother blew out a breath. “April, I don’t even—”
A lengthy silence followed, in which JoAnn likely blinked in shock at her daughter’s sudden, unexpected fame, absorbed the news, and contemplated where to begin the conversation. With curiosity? Concern? Pity? Advice?
Eventually, she’d cover all of the above. April knew that already, as well as she knew what her mother’s advice would entail.
At long last, her mother chose an opening query. “How in the world did this happen?”
That was a question with many answers, some more existential than others, but April settled on the bare facts. Minus a bit of context, in the vain hope they could both avoid the inevitable.
“Well, I have a Twitter account where I post pictures of myself cosplaying Lavinia, and Marcus Caster-Rupp saw one of the photos Wednesday night and asked me out.” She kept her voice calm, as if her world hadn’t exploded in the last several days. As if her heart hadn’t been skittering in her chest since the moment she’d risen that morning. “I’m staying at a hotel in Berkeley this weekend while I get my new apartment ready, and he happened to be in the area. So our dinner is happening tonight, but please don’t tell anyone. I’d like to keep the whole thing as private as possible, under the circumstances.”
As private as possible meant not very private. And that was putting it mildly.
As soon as her Twitter exchange with Marcus went viral, her mentions became . . . incomprehensible. Overwhelming. Filled with commentary both heartening and stunningly ugly. And even though she’d muted all the main threads long ago, new followers and tweets just kept coming, as did interview requests and blogger and media questions.
Her current amount of exposure was more than sufficient, so she’d refused all requests and ignored all questions. Then, just when the hubbub had begun to diminish, the official