Con Quest!

“You turned the music off while we were getting the clip!” Cat swung her hands in the direction of the cosplayers, getting them caught in her cape. “If you’d kept it going, we could have even probably gotten bonus marks for style! Why’d you do that?!”

Alex just stared at his sister. Did she not know they had gotten it wrong? He figured if he explained it to her slowly, maybe he could make her understand.

“They weren’t singing it right,” he said, shaking his head. “They were ruining it.”

“It doesn’t matter what they were singing!” Cat shot back.

It didn’t matter? It didn’t matter? Of course it mattered! “Yes, it does!” Alex exploded. “Yes, it does! We’ll never get full marks if they got it wrong, and if you hadn’t just barged in there without asking me first—”

“Asking you first?” Cat repeated in disbelief. “Why would I ask you first?”

“You never ask me first,” Alex responded.

“Exactly! So why would I now? We got the points! It’s fine!”

“It’s not fine, Cat, I wish you would stop saying that—” Alex stopped suddenly. Something was prickling at the back of his neck. He didn’t get distracted often, so when he did, it usually meant there was something really wrong. He spun around.

A few of the people from the crowd who’d been videoing the “Eye of the Tiger” dance party were now videoing them. Alex froze in place.

Cat peered around her brother’s head. “Excuse me? A little privacy here?”

The gawkers stood there for a second, unsure of how to react to this very loud, extremely brash, costumed twelve-year-old.

“I said beat it, you creeps! I know a con staff member! You want me to call James M. on the phone right now because I will—”

That was enough to get the small crowd to disperse. Alex had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He fished his cell phone back out of his bag and opened social media.

And sure enough, right there under the #VigilanteLeague hashtag: “kids in Vigilante League video have GeekiCon meltdown!” And reposted on another account: “This is why you shouldn’t bring your kids to GeekiCon.” And again: “Nerd throws a tantrum over Vigilante League stunt.” Great.

Just great.

At least Cat had stopped the privacy snatchers before they’d gotten anything else. And the distraction had served to snap Alex out of his sneaky itch spiral. That was good. Probably.

Alex reported the video (they were kids being filmed without permission—definitely against the rules) before locking his phone and tucking it into his pocket, determined to forget about the trolls online. It wouldn’t last; the video had to get taken down. He reached out and grabbed one of Cat’s hands, pulling her to the side of the aisle.

“Hey. Thank you for stopping that,” Alex said, looking his sister in the eye.

“No problem.” Cat shook his appreciation off like what she’d done really was nothing, when Alex knew he could never have done as much. “Listen,” Cat added hesitantly. “Maybe I should have asked you before jumping into that. Maybe we could have prepared them with lyric sheets or something. I didn’t even think about it and I’m sorry.”

Alex looked down at the floor. “Thanks, Cat. I’m sorry I … lost control.”

“Hey,” Cat said strongly, shaking her brother through their still-clasped hands. “No. Don’t say stuff like that. The Quest is stressful and GeekiCon is a lot. We’re having an adventure. I still have our Hall M passes. And we’re definitely and absolutely totally going to get through this. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Alex looked up and smiled. He felt more determined than ever to prove to the entire world that they could do this. “And we’re going to win.”

9. Convince three Vigilante League cosplayers to sing “Eye of the Tiger” with

you. (37 points)

9

Fi

“Nerd throws a tantrum over Vigilante League stunt!” Okay, first of all, Fi thought as she tried her best to rush through the crush of smelly, sweaty bodies, only I get to call my brother a nerd. Though Fi was pretty riled up over the blatant invasion of privacy her younger siblings had just been involved in, one sort of good thing had come of it: As Fi had scrolled past the video of the twins singing their favorite TV show theme song in front of a large crowd (Ducky McFowl, obviously) and had found the “meltdown” video (moments before it was wiped from the internet after a storm of enraged parents demanded it), she’d noticed something. Right over the twins’ heads in the video of their argument (of course they would even manage to embarrass her online) was a giant inflatable sheep. Fi had seen that sheep hanging in the air over the convention floor, and she was zooming back toward it as fast as she could.

Well, like, way slower than she could, frankly. Yes, she’d made varsity soccer, and she was only in the ninth grade. But she could only go as fast as this con would let her.

For every slow walker she swerved around and every impromptu photo shoot she narrowly avoided ruining, Fi reminded herself of why she was doing this. Dodge an elbow—Ethan might notice me. Avoid collision with a gigantic backpack—on the for-sure chaperoned camping trip. Shove through another long line—which Mom and Dad will let me go on.