Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Xander lingers behind. Just to ask me, “You sure you don’t need my help?”
Do I need the help of a seventeen-year-old to get his sister to fall in love with me (again)?
Yesterday, I would’ve said, absolutely not. Hell no. I’ve got this covered.
Today, I’m saying, “TBD. You’re on standby.”
He nods. “Just give me the signal.”
45
LUNA HALE
The endless line to meet the actor who plays Strider curves out Hall B and into the conference center’s atrium. We are in the atrium. At the back of the pack. But we didn’t come to the Con with a decisive strategy. We planned to just wing it. I check the Con’s schedule.
All the meet-and-greets are overlapping, and if we wait here, there’s no way we’ll have enough time to see Willa Holmes, the actress for Callie.
I have to choose.
Strider or Callie.
“What’s up?” Xander asks me, wafting his shirt. He has sweat stains under his armpits. “Are we bailing on this guy?” He points to the long line.
“Do you wanna see him?” I ask.
“Uhh, we could?” The chrome blue mask shields his expression. I restrain from asking if he’s okay. He’s already told me yeah a handful of times.
When I first saw him at the hospital, I couldn’t get over how physically older he appeared. But he’s grown so much more than I realized. To have the kinda courage to leave the house and be at a Fan Convention with only me—the Xander I knew would’ve never done it.
“It’s up to you, really, Luna,” Xander says. “I like them all. I’m not on a specific team.”
I’ve been getting a tingly sense Xander doesn’t care about the show. I’ve witnessed many of his passionate nerd rants regarding Lord of the Rings and Warhammer, and vague one-sentence responses are not it.
“No favorites?” I ask.
“Frost is cool.” He shrugs, his head still turning every which way. You’d think he was the bodyguard, but I can tell he’s anticipating the rug being pulled out from under us. The chaos setting in.
I check my watch, the one that Donnelly technically gave Original Luna. I still like wearing it, but partly, it makes me miss her.
“This line is not moving,” Quinn says under his breath, but close enough that I can hear. He’s not so familiar to me. But I’ve been told Quinn Oliveira, age twenty-three, was once my bodyguard after J.P. was fired.
“Patience, patience,” Frog says, as though channeling supreme patience.
I’ve finally met my bodyguard. Kannika Kitsuwon. She’s Thai like Akara, and the only bodyguard not born and raised in Philly. She’s originally from Buffalo. And I still can’t believe she’s younger than me. No wonder all of SFO were protecting her return to my detail. Apparently, she’d been there the night of the kidnapping. I’m shocked she didn’t quit this job afterward.
She came back. I can’t say why. We haven’t talked too much yet, and she seems as tentative with me as I am with her.
The line inches forward, then abruptly stops.
I want my sweatshirt signed by Strider, but I was hoping to get a poster signed by Callie for Original Luna. For when I get my memories back.
What if I never do? I swallow a pit in my throat. Desperation has been gradually morphing into fragmented bits of anguish. Afraid that I never will find her.
That fear smacked me in the face at my last appointment with my neuro-doctors.
Since it’s been three weeks that I’ve had retrograde amnesia with no progress, they told me there’s a possibility it might be permanent. Or if I do get my memories back, they might not all come bursting forth in chronological order like you see in the movies. It might be more like little “islands of memory” popping up in the empty space. So far…no islands. Not even a small, tiny plot of land in the empty sea of my brain. I should be happy I don’t have any other long-term side effects from my brain injury like vertigo, vision loss, insomnia (the list seems endless)—that’s what my therapist harps on about—but it’s hard to stay on the positive side of things after my doctors’ appointments.
“You alright?” Donnelly whispers, a step ahead of me and Xander. He twists around to me.
I nod a few times, quickly, then I remember to be more forthcoming this time around. And I shake my head. “No.” He meets my eyes briefly before having to scan passersby. Then I add, “I have to choose between Strider and Callie.”
“Strider,” he says. “The line will move faster. People are gonna drop out.”
“Or we could skip the line,” Frog suggests behind me.
My brows rise. Is she…rebellious? “I like this idea,” I say.
“No,” Quinn says, giving Frog a look.
“What?” she says like he’s the weird one. “She’s famous. We can say she needs to cut for safety reasons.”
Donnelly chimes in, “Nah, that’ll draw too much attention. Arguments will be had. They’ll be asking who’s so special. They might start shouting Luna’s name. So…hard pass.”