“That was our agreement, that we would let you do your own booth thing with your friend for the rest of the convention—”

“It’s not just a booth thing, it’s saving a fan-favorite character from being fridged for the rest of her fictional life!”

“—if you would be here today and help us unpack at the beginning and tear down at the end of the con. Milo and Bran gracefully covered your shifts.”

I sigh. “I know.”

“So where were you?”

I open my mouth again, then close it—I suck at lying. Especially to my parents.

Which is weird because I lied so well as Jessica Stone.

“She came to the panel with me,” Milo interjects as he emerges from the back of the booth, pulling on a snapback hat. “You said we should do more things together, right?”

This answer seems to pacify Kathy. “I did. But I meant like school functions, not comic-con panels.”

“You should’ve specified,” Milo replies. But before she can chide him for back-talking, he turns and throws up his arms. “Bran! Right on time. We just got back, too.”

“Nice to see you, babe.” Bran Simons, Milo’s boyfriend, stands on the other side of the booth, laden with three bags of collectors’ items. He gives Milo a smile as bright as the sun, lighting a spark in his dark eyes. He is short, like me, and a little waifish, all ear-cuffs and close-cropped hair and bronze skin. He offers Milo the bags, careful not to disturb the meticulously stacked Sailor Moon collectible keychains. Milo takes them and heads to the back of the booth. Bran and Milo met last year in high school, in astronomy lab, but I think they spent more time studying each other’s astrological compatibility than learning about solar physics.

He slides behind the booth as Kathy attends to a customer. “So how’s your con going?”

“It’s going. You?”

Bran sighs. “I’m trying to convince your brother to go to a viewing of Demolition Man at three a.m.”

“Yikes. You know he likes sleep.”

“I’m hoping he likes me a little more. I like your hair by the way—is it fresh?”

“It is.” A brightly hued lock sticks out from my beanie, which I sheepishly pull off. My hair is normally a mousy brown, like Milo’s, but pixied. I dyed it just before ExcelsiCon. I like how the pink looks with my gray eyes. I don’t really resemble either of my moms, although Kathy carried both Milo and me. I look like the sperm donor, apparently. My brother has Kathy’s button nose, which I’m envious about.

Milo emerges again from the back, fixing his snapback. “Whoa, whoa, who’s contesting my love?”

“He is,” I say, pointing to Bran. “Demolition Man with your boyfriend at three a.m. or sleep?”

Milo wilts and looks pleadingly at Bran. “Uh, do I have to choose?”