Jess

AS I MAKE MY WAY BACK TO Harper’s booth, I can’t help but take stock of the damage that’s been done. The comments on my social are only getting worse.

Every time I delete one, two more take its place. Calling me names, critiquing my body, and my bones, and my career. This is just the thing I didn’t want. Just the thing I tried to stay out of. But really, I should’ve known it would come to this. Because I’m not just a woman in Hollywood, I’m a woman in fantasy/sci-fi Hollywood. Not only are the roles less prestigious, they’re subject to the criticisms of trolls who are dissatisfied with my accomplishments, my looks, my talent, my breast size—and who blame me for anything and everything they find wrong. What’s worse, I know this is just a small portion of them, because I am white and straight-passing. Actresses of color get mobbed for merely existing.

“I hate this,” I whisper, and quickly shove my phone into my pocket. I want to rake my hands through my hair but I can’t because I have this stupid beanie on. The convention is so loud, I can’t hear myself think. People stare at me even though I don’t want them to. Nothing is private. There’s nowhere I can escape.

Ultimately, my feet find their way back to Harper’s booth. She looks up from her Obi-Wan commission. “Something up?”

Another chance for me to tell her the truth. That I’m Jessica Stone. That I’ve lied to her, and I’m sorry, and my life is falling apart and I’m not even present to watch it crumble.

And deep down, I don’t want to be.

“No,” I lie.

“Well, whatever is not up,” Harper tries to soothe me, “it’ll be fine. There’s a quote that I like to always remember—”

“‘It’s fine’?”

She scowls good-naturedly. “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

“It is a leaf on the wind—”

“‘You are not alone, ah’blena,’” she says, quoting a line I know all too well. It’s what Carmindor says to Princess Amara during one of the Nox King’s infamous galas. Two-thirds into the movie, before the Black Nebula ruptures and the princess has to sacrifice herself to save the galaxy.

And it’s the exact quote that makes my lips wobble. I push up my glasses and look away.

Harper closes her sketchpad in alarm. “There is something wrong.”

“You won’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“I can’t,” I reply, pushing my fingertips under my glasses to wipe away the tears I am definitely not shedding right now. Keep it together, Jessica. Keep it together. “You won’t understand.”