The crowd in the convention center is suffocating, all the jostling and the pushing, and there are so many crying kids because Sundays are always half-price family day. My breathing picks up, and I start mapping my escape routes, fighting my urge to run. But I’m a man on a mission right now: I’m gonna finally talk to my comics idol, Vera Flores.

I’ve been too chickenshit to ever approach her before, double so now that she’s officially my dad’s nemesis or whatever. But having a cute girl dressed as one of Vera’s characters tell me I should try stepping out of my comfort zone kind of felt like a sign. And judging by the fact said girl didn’t return my text, it clearly wasn’t a sign that she and I were meant to be.

So maybe it meant this.

Peak said it was an experiment. Like going to meet Vera is an experiment, one that currently has me on the verge of hyperventilating on the showroom floor, but.

I squeeze my hands until my nails pinch into my palm, and then cut a corner toward Artist Alley. The booths are smaller there than over on the vendor side, more crammed together. It’s where all the artists and writers sit, clamoring for attention and shouting things like “Hey, you like scary books?” There are a bunch of Marvel and DC dinosaurs all in a row, and a pile of indie artists across from them. I stop at a table with a giant squirrel banner, which, okay, weird, but I take a bookmark anyway.

I relax a little when I finally see it.

Her banner is large but unassuming. It’s got the cast of Fighting Flock in an action pose and her name written across the top in block letters. I take a breath, hold it, and then exhale. I got this. I can walk up to her and tell her that she’s amazing and that her newest comic about an immortal teenage superhero who just wants to stop, to rest, to be done, speaks to me on a level that no book ever has.

dontscrewthisup

Vera Flores—well, Vera Flores-Jones since her wedding a couple years ago—has been my favorite person on the scene for a long time, even before her newest book. Everything she puts out is super diverse and often queer as fuck, which I guess is to be expected when the business is run by a gay Latinx, but still. She is the future personified, and I love her for it. And I’m intimidated by it. And technically, she’s the enemy and my dad would kill me if he found out I was over here. Which is why I’m standing back and gnawing the shit out of my lip, watching her line move without me in it.