If I act anything other than just as excited, I may as well grab a balloon and a big knife and pop it right in front of him. But still—this is really not my scene. I try to think of something—anything—that will get me out of this. A fake migraine? A bakery emergency? Teleportation?
“Does everyone dress up?” I ask tentatively, taking the gown, not even sure it’s going to fit me.
“Well, no, not everyone, but most people,” he says. “We’ll fit right in.”
I look at the dress, then back at Duffy, who is oblivious to the fact that this is so far out of my comfort zone I might as well be in Kuala Lumpur.
“I didn’t enter us in the costume contest, though,” he says. “The people who win those are artistic geniuses. Our costumes are a little basic. I wanted to ease you in.”
My stomach tightens because that suggests there will be more of these events in the future.
“Okay.” A root canal sounds better at the moment. I start walking toward the stairs, still trying to find a way out of this.
“Oh, do you have shoes? Brown flats? Something that looks a little woodsy?” Duffy asks as I go.
“I’ll check,” I say as I rush into the bathroom, close the door, and open my phone to call Minnie. I pull up her number but don’t hit Call.
This iswayout of my comfort zone. But aren’t I supposed to be doing things that arewayout of my comfort zone?
What happened to making this work?
I look at myself in the mirror. “You said you wanted adventure, Claire,” I whisper, then lean in closer. “You said you wanted to try new things.” I narrow my eyes. “Here’s your chance.”
“Do you need help lacing up the dress?” Duffy calls from the bottom of the stairs.
“No! I’ve got it, but thanks!” I unzip the bag, pull the dress out, and hold it up in front of me. I look at my reflection, reminding myself that before he got here, I actually thought Duffy was the solution to my Miles problem.
But replacing that crush is going to be a lot more difficult if I have to wear a medieval gown to do it.
I take a breath, push my hair out of my face, and change out of my sensible outfit and into an elf costume.
An hour later, I’m walking into a convention center with hundreds of other people. The costumes are otherworldly. There are nine-foot-tall aliens, girls sporting spiky hair and carrying swords (anime, Duffy explains), and lots of Spider-Men who seem to point at one another whenever they get in groups of three.
In spite of all this creativity and color and commotion, I still feel like I’m on display.
Duffy, fully in character, stops in front of a quartet of hobbits. He then kneels in front of them, loudly proclaiming, “If by my life or death I can protect you, I will. You have my sword.”
A voice from behind me says, “And my bow,” and I wheel around to see a slightly overweight middle-aged man with a long blond wig, dressed in green.
“And my axe!” is shouted from across the hall, and a hairy, battle-clad, axe-wielding kid no more than about eighteen, trundles over and joins the group.
They all look at one another for a moment, then burst into loud admiration, pointing at each other’s costumes, shaking hands by grabbing forearms—and not a single one breaks character.
They part, and Duffy gives some kind of farewell in what sounds like a different language, then turns to me.
“This might be the best day of my life.” He pulls out our tickets and hands one to me. “Your ticket, m’lady.”
Nothing could’ve prepared me for what I see after they scan my ticket, and we walk into the huge convention center.
The scale of the room is almost too much to take in. And there are costumed peopleeverywhere.
A tall, buxom woman in a tight, red-sequined dress holding what appears to be a rabbit.
A family of five, one in a stroller, all dressed like the Incredibles, complete with masks and wigs.
Several men dressed as the Joker, wearing what look like custom-made suits, chatting up an older woman with multicolored pigtails.
I stifle a giggle at a grown man, hairy-chested with a full mustache and beard, sporting a Wonder Woman costume. It’s clearly tongue in cheek, because he’s posing for pictures, sticking out his tongue, and making a rock ’n’ roll symbol with both hands.
