Chapter 2

two

. . .

The vibration and noise from the slammed door pulled Hillary’s focus from the computer toward Olivia’s door.

Let me just vanish into oblivion.

If it wasn’t immature, Hillary would have quite happily sunk down in her chair and prayed that whatever had her boss glaring wasn’t her fault.

Olivia’s arms remained crossed as she made eye contact with each and every person before stopping directly at Hillary. “Mitchell! Nice work on that last piece. It wasn’t horrible.”

Hillary sat upright knowing surprise would have seeped into her expression. “Oh, um, thanks, Olivia. That means a lot coming from you.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Olivia came to perch on the edge of Hillary’s desk, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve got a new assignment for you. Comic Con.”

Hillary’s heart did a combination of a flip-flop, beating faster, and then twisted into a knot. Comic Con? The land of cosplayers, superhero fanatics, and all things geeky? She swallowed hard. “I’m not sure I’m the right person for that, Olivia. I don’t really know much about that world.” It wasn’t a lie, and she knew those fans were intense about their fan worshiping and outside of superhero films, she didn’t fit in there.

Olivia waved a dismissive hand. “That’s why it’s perfect for you. You’re not part of those…fandoms. You’ll be fresh eyes, an outsider’s perspective. Besides, Stevens just quit and you’re the only one left who hasn’t begged to cover it so much I worry you’ll embarrass the entire magazine.”

Hillary’s heart raced as she nervously bit her lip, torn between her ambition to impress Olivia and her fear of large crowds and famous people. Her mind raced with endless possibilities. What if she got someone’s role wrong and pissed them off? Or if she went to interview a fan and messed up their costume and offended them? Or if she fell trying to rush to catch a celebrity.

Her stomach swirled with nerves.

Taking this leap would push her out of her comfort zone, but a small voice inside whispered that it could also lead her to impressing Olivia. With a deep breath, she steeled herself for whatever level of prep work this might take.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Great. I expect nothing less than your best, Mitchell. Watch your email. List of interview times will hit your inbox in fifteen. Go home and prepare for the weekend once you’ve had the email or everyone here will start pestering to ask questions they want answered. Don’t make a mess of this.” With that, Olivia swept out of the room, leaving Hillary ready to puke or scream.

“I’m going to Comic Con.”

Hillary spent the next fifteen minutes frantically searching the internet for any and all information on Comic Con. She read up on past events, familiarized herself with popular fandoms, studied the schedule of events, and even looked up tips from seasoned con-goers.

All she was certain of was there was a reason she’d never asked to cover Comic Con, now more than ever. She was far too introverted for an event of this kind.

Hillary’s inbox pinged and she knew without looking it was the email from Olivia, because she had no open stories at the moment. Clicking her mail icon, she tried not to feel like the subject line was screaming at her, but it was in all caps—Comic Con Interview Schedule.

Breathing deep, she clicked and let the email blow up on the larger monitor. Four days. The convention was four days long. Her stomach rolled again.

Just read through it.

Hillary’s eyes widened as she scanned the list of celebrities, artists, and panels she was expected to cover. Sixteen celebrities, most far too large for her to ever imaging speaking to, and four panels. The names blurred together, a mix of unfamiliar characters and franchises that made her head spin. She forced herself to take deep breaths and not panic in front of every colleague she had.

Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts. This is your chance to prove yourself. To show Olivia you can handle any assignment thrown your way. Or it’s a chance to panic and fail and be unemployed.

Hillary blew out a long breath, praying she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. A quick glance around didn’t appear to show dozens of eyes on her, which helped slow her racing heart just a bit.

“You can do this, and you’re going to do this because there aren’t exactly a million journalism jobs out there.”

First, she dug through her desk drawers, searching for her notepad and pen, a laptop wasn’t going to be possible walking through Comic Con. The notepad was well-worn, its pages filled with scribbled notes and interview questions from past assignments. She flipped to a fresh page, the blank lines waiting to be filled with insights and observations from the convention floor.

It was as fresh of a start as she would get.

Rummaging through the bottom desk drawer, Hillary pulled out her camera. It was a simple point-and-shoot, but it had served her well over the years and she’d need to conserve her cell phone battery. The email didn’t mention a photographer assigned, which meant Olivia wanted her to own the entire thing. She checked the battery and memory card, ensuring she had enough space to capture the hundreds of costumes and panels, before grabbing the charger and putting both into her work backpack.

As she gathered her supplies, Hillary caught a glimpse of herself in the small mirror on her desk. She frowned, noticing the dark circles under her eyes and the stray strands of hair escaping from her ponytail. With a sigh, she reached for her glasses, sliding them back into place on her face. The familiar weight of the frames settled on her nose, even if it didn’t change her vision in the slightest.

Standing, she smoothed out the wrinkles in her blouse and adjusted her skirt. She took a deep breath, trying to channel the confidence and poise she saw every day from Olivia. She imagined herself striding through the convention center, notepad in hand, ready to ask the tough questions and uncover the stories behind the costumes and characters.

But as she walked toward the elevator, her steps faltered. What if you make a fool of herself? What if you ask the wrong questions or offend someone with your lack of knowledge? She could almost hear the snickers and see the eye rolls from the dedicated fans who lived and breathed these fictional worlds.

Hillary shook her head, trying to push the negative thoughts aside. She had worked too hard to let her insecurities hold her back now. She stepped into the elevator, her reflection staring back at her from the mirrored walls. She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and forced a smile.

“You’ve got this, Hillary,” she whispered to herself as the elevator doors closed. “You’re a journalist, and this is just another story to uncover. One step at a time.”