Zoe Rosenthal Is Not Lawful Good

by Nancy Werlin

  Our panel was effectively over.

  The room was hot, it still stank of chlorine, and over the next few minutes people left in droves, except for the ones who were enjoying watching the chaos and the ones who were helping. I knew I should do something to help too, but all I could do was sit down very carefully in a chair.

  This was twice in the last twenty-four hours that someone who was supposed to care about me jumped to the worst conclusion without even giving me a chance to explain! To defend myself!

  Also, incidentally, our panel was ruined.

  Eventually Sebastian stirred, moaned, and lifted his head. His lips formed words. “Na-Na-Naomi?”

  “Here,” said Squirrel Girl, bending down. Her face was all proper concern except for a moment when she glanced at the blood. Her upper lip curved with shy pleasure at the success of her formula.

  Sebastian said things as he was hauled upright, but none of it was Where is faithful Zoe, for I have wronged her sadly and I must beg her forgiveness.

  Liv sat down beside me. “He’s going to be fine.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Zoe . . .”

  “Liv,” I said. “Don’t talk to me. I’m so angry at Sebastian I could kneecap him. Also, we had this great opportunity for our panel and now it’s wrecked.” I dragged my hand through Lorelei’s wig, pulling out the white bun and then plucking the whole wig off my head.

  “I know it’s not ideal,” Liv said. “But it’s okay. Sebastian has fainted before and he’ll faint again. And we did publicize Bleeders—”

  “Our panel failed!” I snapped. It was so unfair. I’d done just as much planning as Squirrel Girl! More! I shook my head angrily. “If Bleeders is canceled—”

  “That won’t be our fault, Zoe. Hey, want a scarf?”

  I nodded miserably and tilted my head. Liv wound a warm wool scarf on me, red and gold. Gryffindor. Which was the wrong house for me; I was clearly Slytherin. Sigh.

  The 911 people wanted to take Sebastian. His previously white puffy clothing was still dripping; the red corn syrup had splashed everyone and everything. This hotel certainly wouldn’t be in a rush to host Lilithcon next year. Probably they would send me the carpet-cleaning bill.

  I groped for my phone and tried again to turn it on. Nothing.

  Liv said, “Let’s plan a topic for our next panel.”

  “ What?” I snarled. “We won’t be allowed a panel. Anywhere. Ever again!”

  “Oh, come on—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Liv,” I said.

  “ We’ll save it for another time, then.”

  That time will be never, I thought, but all I did was compress my lips.

  We watched the other Bloodygits move off down the aisle and out the ballroom door with the 911 people, Sebastian, and Squirrel Girl.

  “Shall we go?” said Liv. “We can get hot chocolate in the Con Suite and discuss, I don’t know, menses.”

  I stayed put. “I appreciate it, Liv, but I’d just like to sit here for a few minutes and not talk.”

  “Sure. We can do that.”

  “Alone? I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I get it. I’ll check on you in a while.”

  “Thanks.”

  I stayed alone, alone, alone in the giant ballroom. I closed my eyes and rubbed them. I tried not to think about myself but instead about AMT and Bean Con and Season 3.

  Oh, God. My life sucked. Liv couldn’t fully understand, especially now that they’d gotten into Smith early.

  After a few minutes, I got that feeling of someone looking at me. Involuntarily, I whispered, “Simon?” and opened my eyes.

  Of course it wasn’t Simon. It was Cam, squatting inches in front of me. Red corn syrup had dried all over his hands and somehow also gotten smeared on his face, giving him the appearance of a psychopathic murderer.

  “Are you feeling any better?”

  “No,” I said. “Not really.”

  Cam said, “You’re going to be okay.”

  “No,” I said passionately. “I’m really not. Don’t you see? Simon dumped me. Also, our panel just crashed and burned, and I was the one who took the blame for it. In case you didn’t notice, I was accused in front of hundreds of people. By my friend! Also, oh yeah, my boyfriend dumped me, not that I’m dwelling on it, and he was the best person in the world, is the best person in the world, and maybe I didn’t deserve him, but all my plans for the future were wrapped up in him. And now that is completely over and I have no idea what’s going to happen.”

  “Well, aren’t you feeling sorry for yourself,” said Cam.

  I glared at him. “With good reason!”

  “Zoe. While yes, it truly sucks and I get it, you’re acting like you were done wrong by the world, and I don’t think that’s the right way to look at it.”

  I blinked. “Oh, really? What is the right way, may I ask?”

  “I say this very gently and with love. It’s time for some straight talk, girlfriend. I think you should take responsibility for your own situation.”

  I could not believe my ears. “I take responsibility all the time!”

  “I mean for the end of your relationship. Let’s take a minute and try to look at the situation from Simon’s point of view—”

  “Stop right there. Do you honestly think I haven’t done that dozens of times? I know exactly what I did! I sneaked out to cons without telling him, which was not good. But was it really so very bad? Why couldn’t he at least ask me to explain? I’m not a criminal! So I liked a TV show he wasn’t interested in! So I helped his sister be part of the fandom, which, incidentally, she really, really wanted. No harm was done, Cam!”

  “Luckily.”

  “I wouldn’t have let any harm come to Josie, if that’s what you’re insinuating!”

  “I’m not insinuating anything. I’m saying that things happen and it was lucky nothing did in this case. And when I think of it, I’m ashamed that I was a part of this, too. I should have known better, too. We all should have. We knew Josie’s age.”

  “No,” I said heavily after a minute. “It was me. You’re right.”

  Cam was squatting in front of me. “Simon’s such a social-justice warrior, upright, morally inflexible, lawful good, blah blah, whatever. You knew all that. You knew it when you started dating him. You knew it when you made up a story so you could go to Dragon Con instead of being with him. You knew it when you claimed you were campaigning in New Hampshire, or whatever it was you said the other times. Of course he’d feel that you betrayed him. You did. You abandoned the relationship first. Arguably.”

  I was silent.

  “I thought you were my friend,” I said finally.

  “I am your friend. I’m just saying—”

  “I am not actually evil, Cam.”

  “No! Of course not! I didn’t say you were evil. All I was saying was that—”

  “I see it!” I flared. “I’ve always seen it! I tell myself all the time that I must be a terrible person, and it just hurts to know you see me that way, too. Does everyone else? Liv? The others? Did Sebastian leap into accusing me because, deep down, none of you trust me? Because when you met me, I was already lying?”

  “Wait, you’re leaping to conclusions. I just wanted—”

  My phone rang. My undead phone rang! It was the generic ringtone, but maybe it was Simon anyway. I snatched the phone from my pocket. “Hello?” Then I deflated. “Hi, Mrs. Albee.”

  Mrs. Albee said something.

  “Wait, I can’t hear you,” I said. “My phone is messed up. Let me try speaker.” Miraculously, the speaker icon worked.

  Mrs. Albee’s voice boomed with righteous fury. “Zoe Rosenthal! I could not be more disappointed in you!”

  Cam’s eyes met mine. Mine dropped.

  I suddenly knew exactly what was coming to me.

  “You went behind our backs. You made test videos with another cat. Don’t bother denying it!” Over the damaged speaker, her voice we
nt even louder.

  “Please, Mrs. Albee.” I hunched my shoulders. “I apologize—”

  “Don’t bother,” said Mrs. Albee icily. “I don’t care to hear it. I don’t believe in your sincerity. And neither does Wentworth.”

  There came a furious, ear-splitting yowl.

  Not without satisfaction, Mrs. Albee said, “In cat language, that means: You’re fired!”

  She disconnected, but not before Wentworth got in a final fart-like screech of victory. ( This would, by the way, turn out to be the last noise my phone ever made.)

  I buried my face in my arms.

  “Well,” Cam began, in his most reasonable voice.

  “Go away, Cam,” I said. “Go away and leave me alone to feel small.”

  Texting with Liv from home, on the weekend of Newark Con.

  LIV: Hey.

  ME: Hey. How’s the con going?

  LIV: OK. We did a Bleeders panel again. We had a really good showing, actually. It went well. We miss you, though.

  ME: I miss you too. But I totally agreed with my parents about grounding me. I even sort of feel like they haven’t punished me enough. They were so furious about me taking Josie to Lilithcon. I get it.

  LIV: Did you say that to them?

  ME: Of course I did.

  LIV: We’re missing Josie too. Any chance she’ll be able to at least work with Meldel and Cam on fanfic again?

  ME: I have no way of knowing that. Ms. Murawski really tore me a new one, which I completely understood. I abased myself. But Josie and I aren’t in touch right now.

  LIV: Josie told Meldel at Lilithcon that she was going to tell her mother that she blackmailed you and it wasn’t your fault.

  ME: Well, she did that, but you know. I have to take responsibility. As your brother would say.

  LIV: Sebastian wishes you would text him back.

  ME: I will. Soon.

  LIV: He’s very sorry he rushed to blame you about the glue.

  ME: It’s minor. I’m not mad at him. I’m just . . . being quiet these days. Is Squirrel Girl there with you now?

  LIV: Yes. They’re sweet together. But speaking of love, I suppose your heart aches and all that stuff that I totally do not understand?

  ME: Well, actually . . .

  LIV: It doesn’t?

  ME: I caught Simon sort of sneering at me, at school! And I wanted to kneecap him!

  LIV: You realize I’m refraining from recommending you just take a vow to be alone for a while? No boyfriends, just figure out what you want, on your own?

  ME: You and my mom and Maggie ought to get together. But you want to know what’s really funny? I might miss Wentworth even more than I miss Simon.

  LIV: What?

  ME: Yeah. Wentworth and I had kind of an antagonistic sibling relationship or something. I’ve been thinking about him a lot. I have all this footage where he was just screwing around and I thought it was totally worthless, because he never did what I wanted him to do. But I’ve been looking it over in my spare time, which I have a lot of these days. And you know what? He’s cute in his own way.

  LIV: Did Mrs. Albee replace you?

  ME: She took me off the contact page on her website. But there’s nobody else there yet. I’m still burning with shame. I wrote to her and tried to explain that I wanted to surprise her with how good the new spokescat would be, that it would really help the business. But it sounded lame even to me. So finally I just apologized and left it at that. That’s just one thing that can’t ever be fixed. I have to live with it.

  LIV: Personally, I thought your Ellen From Finance video was really appealing. I loved how she played foot-hockey with the kitty soaps and kicked them right into that turquoise bag.

  ME: Foot-hockey was something I could never, ever get Wentworth to do. I had a fixation on it. And did you notice how that turquoise color just really suited Ellen From Finance? But still, it was all a mistake. I bet I could have worked with Wentworth if I had really tried. I just wanted to have things my own way. I like having my own way, Liv. I do.

  LIV: And who doesn’t? What’s wrong with that?

  ME: Nothing, if you go after it in an upright and honest manner.

  LIV: That sounds a little, uh, Lawful Good.

  ME: Sorry. I’m just trying to be a better person.

  LIV: I hoped you were going to give that up and be your own person.

  ME: Just because you got into college early decision, you got all this psychological knowledge suddenly?

  LIV: Think about it.

  ME: OK. Tell me about Smith! Isn’t it great to have it settled? Are you excited? Have you heard anything else from them?

  LIV: I’m going to visit next month, right after Bean Con. I’ll meet the coach and the team, get a tour, you know. I was actually wondering if maybe you’d want to come see Smith again too. With me.

  ME: I don’t know.

  LIV: You’ll know soon where you got in, and maybe Smith will be one of your acceptances.

  ME: Or one of the places I’m rejected. I can’t make plans now. I’m not in a great place.

  LIV: You’re thinking about Simon and your college list?

  ME: I feel sick about it. That whole list, it was all about him. I have no idea what I want. None! Except I don’t want to go where he goes.

  LIV: Won’t you and he have to talk about it to make sure you don’t?

  ME: Maggie can tell me where he’s going. She said she’d find out.

  LIV: Look. I just need to say this once more. If you didn’t feel like there was something deeper wrong between you and Simon, you wouldn’t have lied about Bleeders in the first place.

  ME: It doesn’t matter.

  LIV: It does. The people you love should respect your love for the things that you love. For your sake.

  ME: Can we not talk about it?

  LIV: Fine. Changing subject. Cam is touring NYU again with Sebastian.

  ME: Did he get in?

  LIV: He hasn’t heard yet. He’s anxious. He really wants to be in New York.

  ME: Did Cam get Aragorn? I mailed him after I had that wee talk with my dad.

  LIV: Hah. Yes, Aragorn is now in our living room. Place of honor over the fireplace.

  ME: Your parents are OK with that?

  LIV: Hello? You’ve MET my parents.

  ME: You know, I have a certain black cape I might be able to send to your dad.

  LIV: Please don’t do that.

  ME: That was a great day, when I met your parents. I loved the Dragon Con parade more than anything.

  LIV: We’re going again in September, right?

  ME: But we’ll be in college.

  LIV: So? We should still go! Don’t you want to?

  ME: I don’t know anymore.

  LIV: Get over it. I’ll see you at Bean Con anyway. Right?

  ME: I’ll see you somehow. But not at the con. I can’t.

  LIV: You’ll still be grounded?

  ME: No. That’s only for a month.

  LIV: Then wait a minute. You have to go. AMT. Hugh Nguyen. Jocelyn Upchurch. Remember?

  ME: I can’t face going.

  LIV: Why not?

  ME: Liv? Haven’t you seen that video?

  LIV: What video?

  ME: Don’t play games! It’s tagged for Bleeders. Its views keep climbing on YouTube. Even Maggie saw it! Don’t lie to me, Liv!

  LIV: I might have seen a video.

  ME: With reggae music.

  LIV: Um. Yes. Cam says . . .

  ME: What?

  LIV: Cam says they must have still been recording after the panel, so they caught what happened afterward on tape. And then some troll got hold of it. I’m so sorry.

  ME: Whoever made that video is my enemy until death.

  LIV: It’s an invasion of privacy. I was really hoping you wouldn’t see it.

  ME: Well, I did. And now I can never go to a con again.

  LIV: It’s not that bad.

  ME: It’s worse.

  The anonymous
person who made the video—my enemy until death—had at least done a professional job. They’d edited together footage from Bleeders, from our Lilithcon panel, from Cam telling me off afterward, from Mrs. Albee firing me, from Sebastian’s “You told me you were taking AP Chem!” And everything else horrible. They had even included a clip of Wentworth from YouTube, overlaid with the fart noise that had come out of my phone at the end. The cuts were seamlessly spliced. Timing was expert.

  What really made the video pop, however, was its original reggae soundtrack.

  Fangirl lie to her boyfriend

  Off to the comic con

  Kidnap he little sister

  Who know what they up to

  Exploding blood in the spacesuit

  Gal doctors know what to do

  Research the wicked virus

  Kill anyone in they way

  Fangirl lie to her boyfriend

  Off to the comic con

  Destroy the evil robots

  Fix up that warp drive good

  Boyfriend he Goody Two-Shoes

  Make Fangirl feel small

  Soap for the nerdy conscience

  Kitty say screw you too

  (Sound effect: the fart noise)

  Fangirl lie to her boyfriend

  Off to the comic con

  Kidnap he little sister

  Who know what they up to

  I didn’t need Maggie to spy out Simon’s college choice after all, because the news was all over school. Simon had gotten into Harvard, likely thanks to a strong letter of recommendation from Senator Alisha Johnson Pratt.

  Harvard!

  It was fine, I told myself. Simon had earned that letter, and in good conscience, I shouldn’t resent it. Also, he’d been admitted with a strong financial aid package. Harvard can afford it. Great news for the Murawskis. Yay. No resentment.

  That said.

  The following are the other facts in the case:

  The day I found out, I said incredulously to Maggie, “He might have been truly angry about Josie, but he was also seizing the first opportunity to dump me! It would have happened anyway, as soon as he got into Harvard and his lies were exposed.”

  “You’d become his backup plan,” said Maggie sagely. “For if he didn’t get into Harvard and go off on his own.”