Except Peak doesn’t stop in front of the table when she gets to it; she goes behind it and hands Vera a bottle of Gatorade and a protein bar. It’s almost my turn at the table, and I don’t know what is happening, and now I can’t decide whether to walk away or pray she looks up.

“Mom said to make sure you eat something. Do you want me to watch the table for a while so you can take a break? I can tell people to come back later,” Peak says like it’s no big deal. Like she isn’t sitting beside the Vera fucking Flores.

“No, baby, it’s fine. We only have a couple hours left; tell her I’m good. I will take this, though, thanks.” Vera nabs the protein bar and turns back to the man in front of her table. I shift so I’m slightly hidden behind him and try to discreetly observe Peak.

She sits at the table for a minute, messing with the Sharpies and restocking some of the prints while Vera talks to the fan in front of her. She asks Vera again if she’s sure, and Vera waves her off with a good-natured shove, telling her to quit hovering and go back to the vendor booth in case they need help. I watch their easy interaction, a little confused. Is Peak a con volunteer? An intern of Vera’s?

I cut out of the line to follow her. Yes, I am missing my big opportunity to talk to Vera, but what do they say about never meeting your idols? Plus, this is important. I’ll never stop obsessing if I don’t get to the bottom of the mystery. It’s not that I’m being a stalker by following her; I just want to see where she’s going.

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Maybe it is stalkery. I don’t know. What does it matter, anyway? I’ll be on a plane in six hours and never see her again. I just want to know how she fits. The peacock dress probably would have won the prom cosplay contest if she hadn’t ditched with me. And I had assumed she was just a fan. But now.

But now?

She waves at a couple other artists as she walks by, and okay, weird, how does she know them? They’re big artists too, Vera’s level or higher, and they’re waving at her like they’re old friends. She’s got to be an intern or something. Vera probably introduced her. Wait. What if she’s not an intern—what if she’s an apprentice who draws similarly kick-ass comics? Be still, my heart. Maybe she’s beautiful and nice and talented. That should be illegal. It’s not fair to the rest of us drudges. But Jesus.

I trail behind her until she walks into another booth, and then I freeze.

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