Con Quest!

It was everything Cat had imagined. It was more.

The room itself was a “room” only in the sense that it had four walls and a ceiling. Really, it was more like a sports stadium. Over six thousand folding chairs covered the concrete floor in neat rows, separated by aisles for people to enter and exit as calmly as was possible in a place like this. It was as dark as a movie theater. At the front of the hall was a raised stage set with a loooong table. Movie stars sat along it, each with their own microphone, in front of GeekiCon’s iconic backdrop. Usually, some awkward bro wearing a blazer over a T-shirt who wanted to look cool by association stood at a podium next to the table and asked the stars questions. For the six thousandth person in the back of the hall, gigantic screens on either side of the stage magnified the stars’ faces. In the aisles, two microphones stood proudly on stands, guarded by lime-shirted volunteers. Excited fans lined up for hours—for days, even—for the chance to ask their faves a question.

“It’s Wormhole,” Cat breathed in disbelief. The cast of her very favorite Star franchise were right up there onstage. She couldn’t believe her luck.

“C’mon,” Alex hissed in Cat’s ear, jarring her back to reality. “We should move!”

Cat shook her head. She had to remember why she was here. It wasn’t to admire the cast of Wormhole, even though they were right up there, holy Hannah—it was to win the Quest.

Alex reached out his hand and Cat grabbed it. Ducking to keep out of view, Cat sped as fast as she could toward the back of the hall. This far back, there were tons of empty seats—there might have been a huge line outside, but it was likely for the next panel or the one after that. Wormhole just didn’t have the same audience it did while it was on the air.

Cat understood. It didn’t bother her.

… Much.

Cat and Alex slid into two seats at the end of a row and put their heads together.

“I can’t believe you got us in here,” Cat whispered excitedly. She kept popping her head up to see Bradley Dan Anders up on the big screen. BDA was really here!

“Cat.” Alex snapped his fingers in front of her face. Right. Quest. Right. Hall M.

“Right, sorry, yes.” Cat pulled her phone out. “Okay, item eight: ‘Cartwheel down the center aisle in Hall M.’”

“One hundred points,” Alex finished for her.

“One. Hundred. Points,” Cat confirmed. That was huge. Even if they weren’t able to complete every item on the list—and it was getting late in the day—having a one hundred point–item in their pocket would go a long way toward launching them toward the top of the standings. So few people at GeekiCon actually got into Hall M to begin with—over 130,000 people came to the con, and the 6,500 who got into Hall M usually sat and refused to leave, which is like … math that Alex could probably do in his head. But the point was that not many people who go to GeekiCon got into this room, let alone people who were doing the Quest.

Or people who had the courage to do cartwheels down the center aisle.

“Can you cartwheel?” Alex asked, sounding suddenly panicked. “I can’t believe I didn’t ask that before. I didn’t even think about it. What if neither of us can—?”

“Yes.” Cat cut Alex off before he could start spiraling too hard. “It’s okay. I can definitely, totally cartwheel. I’ve been practicing,” she added proudly. It hadn’t been going, like, well. But Alex didn’t need to know that part. She was passable at the cartwheel game, and that’s what mattered.

“Okay.” Alex breathed out. “Okay. So I’ll tape. And you cartwheel. Good.”

“When should we do it?” Cat poked her head up again. The room was about half full. That was still many thousands of people. But it could have been worse.

“Between panels?” Alex suggested.

Cat shook her head. “The aisles will be full o

f people coming and going. You won’t be able to get a clear shot. And I’ll probably get trampled,” she added as an afterthought.

“Okay, before that.” Alex thought for a second, tapping his fingers on his jeans. “What about final question?”

“Yes!” Cat agreed, just a little too loudly. She clamped a hand over her mouth and reverted back to a whisper. “It’s perfect. When the moderator says ‘last question,’ I’ll get up. As soon as they’re done answering and the cast starts leaving the stage, when everyone stars clapping, I’ll do it. It’ll be like my own standing ovation!”

“I like it, but…” Alex looked his sister straight in the eye. Cat swallowed. “Cat, just promise me you’ll be careful—”

“Okay, we’ve got time for just one last question!” Cat’s and Alex’s heads snapped toward the screen on their side of the stage. The panel moderator’s larger-than-life grin while stating something so obviously panic inducing made Cat dislike him more than she already did in principle.

“Get your camera out!” Cat gave Alex one last supportive thumbs-up before darting out into the aisle.

“Be careful!” she heard him whisper behind her—but Alex still followed her out into the aisle.

Cat stood at the back of the hall, opening and closing her fists at her side. As she danced from foot to foot, she noticed that her blisters weren’t even hurting her anymore. She was officially too nervous to feel pain. Is this what it felt like to be Alex all the time?

Hall M stretched on and on in front of Cat, the aisle impossibly long and growing longer by the second. In front of the stage, the last fan asked their question at the microphone staffed by a volunteer. Cat’s ears were roaring—she didn’t hear the question, but the crowd and the panelists laughed. The moderator started wrapping up the panel. People were standing up and clapping as BDA and her beloved Wormhole cast got up to leave the stage.