I guess my four-year-old self kind of trolled me from an early age. It doesn’t help that Imogen shortens to Mo, which is, you guessed it, the first two letters in “monster.” So it just kind of stuck. The fact that I sometimes get into trouble has nothing to do with my nickname.

It doesn’t.

At all.

I scowl at Milo. “If you weren’t my brother and I didn’t love you, I’d strangle you with your own jockstrap.”

At that he laughs. “Yikes, someone’s had a bad day.”

Oh, he doesn’t know the half of it.

I dig into my backpack for a handful of pins and shove some into his hands. “Here, if you’re going to walk beside me at least help me pass these out. Save Amara!” I add, forcing a pin into the hands of oncoming attendees. “Revive her! She deserves better!”

Most people take the pin and go on their way.

My internet friend Harper designed them. She draws the best Starfield fanart and designs the coolest merch and apparently makes delicious hotel ramen. We’ve never actually met in IRL, never Skyped or FaceTimed, so I honestly can’t tell you what she looks like. But all that will change this weekend. We’re sharing a booth in Artists’ Back Alley, her selling her artwork and me hawking my petition and pins.

It’s been fun imagining what Harper looks like, though. Her avatar has always been Starfield’s fearless Zorine, so I kinda picture her as the six-armed green-skinned lesbian Llotivan who could strike fear into your soul with a single vicious red-eyed glare. She’s so badass online that I’m pretty sure she is Zorine. And she’s talented on top of being rad. Harper is destined for greatness. Like my brother, Milo.

Like literally everyone I know. Except for me.

Milo quietly hands a passing Deadpool a pin before he says, “Okay, so I know this probably isn’t the best time to tell you this, but I saw him.”

I give another pin to a guy in a Dragon Ball Z cosplay—Goku, and he’s definitely over 9000 on the hot-o-meter. “Saw who?”

“He-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named.”

I try not to react when he tells me. I try not to look bothered at all. “What now?”

“I saw him today. On the YouTube Gaming panel. He’s got some groupie following him around with a camera. You can’t miss him. He’s just exudes jerkoff.”

“Oh,” I say. My voice is small.

“You deserved so much better, Mo.”

I really don’t want to hear this right now. It’s easy for him to say—he happened upon his perfect soulmate. They have the perfect relationship.

I take off walking but he catches me in two quick strides. I keep handing out pins, trying to ignore him.

“Look, Mo, I just wanted to tell you—”

“And you did. He’s here. That’s great.”