“Um,” I say. I can’t decide if it would be seen as more loser-y to say that I don’t watch much TV or that I don’t like Planet Quest. I definitely can’t explain that the reason I hate it is because the pilot aired less than a month after my dad moved to London. We’d spent most of that summer anticipating it right down to planning our themed snack menu. Then, in a span of only a few weeks came Dad’s job transfer, the custody renegotiations, and the sale of his town house. Before I could even get used to the idea, he disappeared — leaving behind only a shiny new laptop as a consolation prize that was in no way a substitute for camping trips or poker nights or falling asleep on the couch with his arm around me.

When the Friday night premiere of Planet Quest arrived, my mom tried to help. She let me have dinner in front of the TV, which was usually forbidden, and didn’t even chide me for ignoring my vegetables and eating only mac and cheese. But after my plate was empty, as the clock crept closer to seven o’clock, the absence of Dad burst in my chest like a supernova. When Mom left to do the dishes, I fled upstairs before the show even started. I waited for her to come comfort me, but she never did. There were too many things left to do, too many things left to clean, count, organize.

“Earth to Sam,” Caroline says, waving a cheese cracker in front of my nose.

I snap back to rejoin the living. “Sorry,” I say. “Just thinking.”

“Is there anyone you’re excited to see at the con?” Kitty continues. She’s trying so hard.

“I’m not going,” I say. It irks me that she makes so many assumptions: That I give a planet’s ass about her favorite show. That I’m going to the con. I wish she’d ignore me like everyone else does. I fall back into my phone, to another message from Zoe.

Zoe: *dispatches BOY-FRND01 with coffee and silent moral support* *wolf-whistles at him and commands him to smile*

I smile at her antics. Zoe doesn’t realize that in some ways, she’s become all the moral support I need.

“Will and I are going to get our picture taken with Amanda Melillo during her signing on Sunday,” Kitty says.

I desperately search for some fucks to give, but my reserves are empty. Also, now I’m worried. Does this mean Will made Sunday plans even though Sundays are supposed to be our gaming days now and forever?

“Great,” I mutter, and go back to my phone to find a text from my mom.

Did you eat your lunch? How is everything?