Those were big-ticket items. Those weren’t in the budget. They didn’t evenhavea budget.
“I think that’s getting a little ahead of ourselves,” Mal said.
“That’s keeping up with our readers,” James replied.
“Yeah, I had at least ten other people say they wanted a copy after I sold out,” Parker said, leaning in.
“And I’m sure we could have used a few more copies here,” Nylan added, looking at Emerson, who nodded. “People seem to have really liked them. I saw a lady buying one the other day when I came in and honestly felt a tiny bit famous?”
“I think it’s a little ambitious,” Mal said, anxiety rising hot in their chest.
“I think it’s supply and demand, baybee,” Emerson said, nudging Mal with her knee. “We’re making cool stuff. People want it.”
“That’s why I wanted to join,” Alex piped up, looking sheepishly around the table.
Even as their brain did everything it could to resist the idea, Mal considered that maybe it was time to pivot again—to takeMixxedMediabigger than their first little run. While most of Mal felt intimidated by the very idea of it, at least part of them also felt excited. Theywantedto do this.
But there was a problem.
“I don’t think one hundred and thirty-five bucks is enough to make that many more copies,” they said. “Someone who can math, math for me?”
They looked at Emerson, who raised her hands in front of her. “It’s not me.”
“It could double our print run,” said Nylan. “Which is at least a start?”
“But I think we can go bigger,” Parker said, leaning in even further. “We just need a little extra funding.”
“We used to do fundraisers forCollageevery year,” Nylan suggested. “Why not for this?”
“Oh, but that tired old bake sale was always such a mess,” James protested.
“And I bet it would be even harder to hold it somewhere not at school,” Alex said.
“Oh, yeah, fair,” Nylan admitted, frowning. “I don’t particularly want to have to tote a bunch of cupcakes all around town.”
“Plus, it would be a jerk move to try and sell them here when Sai sells baked goods in the café,” Mal added.
Parker sighed. “It was a good idea, at least.”
“It still is,” Emerson agreed, “but we need a new thing. What if we do a mini zine fest?”
“A what?” Mal asked.
“A mini zine fest,” Emerson repeated, waving her hands at them like that cleared it up. “We could all make our own little zines—there’s this super cool way to fold them so you can get a bunch of pocket-size pages out of one sheet of paper, I can show you, I’ve watched like thirteen YouTube videos on it—and then sell them for like a dollar a piece.”
“And you said prints were how much a page?” Parker asked, cocking her head.
“Five cents!” Emerson clapped her hands excitedly.
“Oh, damn,” James said. “That’s like—how many zines a dollar?”
“Don’t make me math in this, my moment of triumph!” Emerson squawked.
“Twenty,” Nylan said smoothly. “And at ninety-five cents return on that, that’s… a lot of funds raised.”
“She gets it!” Emerson said, standing from her seat and pointing at Nylan like she’d just won a watch.
ButMaldidn’t get it—not really. Their body was flushing hotter, and they could feel the rise of red blotches in their cheeks. “It’ll cost ourtime, too,” they reminded the group.
