Comics Will Break Your Heart

by Faith Erin Hicks

  “So…” Mir let the word trail off, not sure how to continue. Evan gave his sleeve one last swipe and folded his hands expectantly on the counter, leaning toward her.

  “Yes?”

  “Have you seen Raleigh and Jamie recently?”

  “Not really,” Evan said. “Just in the halls at school.”

  “It feels extra weird,” Mir sighed.

  “What, ever since Jamie was a butt to you about your family and the TomorrowMen settlement?”

  Mir rubbed at her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to look at Evan.

  “It feels so messed up. He’s Raleigh’s boyfriend. She chose him.”

  Evan chuckled skeptically.

  “So what? She couldn’t make a mistake and date a guy who’s a jerk? C’mon, it happens. They’ll break up when she realizes.”

  Mir shrugged, looking away. A small, angry part of her wished she believed Evan, that eventually Jamie would fall out of their lives and he would take all the wrongness he brought to their group with him. But when Mir saw the two of them together, Raleigh’s profile cradled in the hollow of Jamie’s shoulder, she knew Evan was wrong. It would be that way forever. They would never break up.

  “Anyway, I gotta go,” Evan sighed. “Gotta pick up my sisters at their secret assassin training.”

  “It’s Girl Guides, Evan,” Miriam said. “They practice building tents and they sell cookies, dressed in adorable matching uniforms. I really don’t think it’s a front for a mysterious league of junior assassins.”

  Evan shook his head sadly.

  “How little you know of the world, Miriam Kendrick.”

  The bell over the Emporium of Wonders’ front door jangled. Mir guiltily straightened up from the counter, trying not to look like an employee slacking off at work. Weldon Warrick was half through the entrance, nearly missing a step when he saw she wasn’t alone. He recovered quickly, and walked toward Mir and Evan, hands stuck in his jacket pockets. At the sight of him, a not-unpleasant warmth crept into Miriam’s stomach.

  “Hey,” said Weldon, flashing his smile at Evan. “I’m Weldon. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  Evan eyed Weldon suspiciously.

  “Um, okay,” said Evan.

  Weldon turned his head and aimed his smile at Mir. It was as bright as the headlights on his uncle’s car two nights ago. Mir remembered his face in shadow, him saying “You’re so lucky.” The darkness had prevented her from seeing his expression. She’d thought about the words a lot since then. What on earth did he mean? He’s Weldon Warrick. He has everything.

  “I feel like I introduce you a lot,” Miriam said. She waved an open hand at Weldon. “Evan, this is Weldon Warrick. Yes, that Warrick. He’s from Los Angeles, but is staying here in Sandford with his aunt and uncle for a while. You probably will not get along.”

  “You wound me, Mir,” said Weldon, placing a shocked hand on his chest. “Evan and I could be the best of friends, if you’d give us a chance.”

  “That Warrick?” Evan said, his voice climbing several octaves. “Warrick Studios Warrick? TomorrowMen comics Warrick?”

  Weldon nodded modestly at Evan, but Mir saw a glow of pleasure creep across his face. She imagined herself brushing off the excited words of a fan—yes, I’m that Miriam Kendrick. Yes, my grandfather created the TomorrowMen. Of course I’ll be at the movie premiere next summer. It’s so exciting seeing the TomorrowMen up on the big screen! My grandfather would have been so proud.

  “Shit, man! I love the TomorrowMen!” Evan laughed. “I’ve been reading those comics since I was eight! You should see the longboxes in my closet. There’s some X-Men, yeah, but the rest is all TomorrowMen. I mean, holy shit.” Evan’s hands flailed excitedly at Weldon.

  “Thanks,” said Weldon. “What’s your favorite run on the comic?”

  “I dunno, I loved that Tristan Terrific spin-off from two years ago,” Evan said. “The one drawn by Stuart Samuel. That was great stuff. Brought this really human element to the TomorrowMen, showed us a side of them we hadn’t seen before, you know?”

  “Everyone hated that miniseries at the beginning,” Weldon said. “All these reviews claiming the publisher was destroying the character by having him deal with his dark side. But now people really like those comics.”

  Evan gestured at him, bearded face shining. “Stuart Samuel is such a good artist. He draws like … like, I don’t know. Like he literally lives in the same world as the TomorrowMen, and he’s just drawing what he sees. He’s amazing.”

  Miriam watched the two boys standing in the middle of the store, Evan bubbling over with delight, Weldon basking in the glow of his enthusiasm. Weldon’s crooked nose looked less crooked in profile, and she could barely see his black eye anymore. A tiny smudge of green beneath his right eye was the only indication of the violence she’d interrupted. I’ve seen a lot of Weldon Warrick for only meeting him a short time ago, Mir thought.

  “—and the World of TomorrowMen series that ran two years ago, the one written by Kurt Busiek? That was fantastic, a whole new side of the TomorrowMen. You really got to see their world up close.”

  “I prefer the superhero stuff,” Weldon said. “I like to see the TomorrowMen using their superpowers, fighting world threats, really saving the universe. Superhero comics should be about saving the world.”

  Weldon’s gaze slid toward Miriam, and she remembered what she’d said to him on the waterfront, when he’d jogged by her family. Superheroes are the worst. She still wasn’t sure where her comment had come from. A small voice at the back of her mind piped up: Maybe you were trying to hurt him? Just a little bit? Mir looked away from Weldon, feeling guilty.

  “For sure,” Evan said. “I like the superhero stuff too. But sometimes you want a different spin on that kind of thing, you know? If every story was Skybound punching a supervillain into the sun, that’d get pretty boring eventually. I appreciate a fresh take.”

  “Yeah, gotta keep the characters evolving,” Weldon said, nodding. “I see your point.”

  “Sure you do!” Evan laughed. He glanced nervously at Mir, then continued. “Uh, okay, totally asking for a friend, but say someone had some ideas for TomorrowMen stories, how would someone go about getting … um, hired to write TomorrowMen comics? Like say my friend actually had a TomorrowMen script written and he—or she!—wanted to send it somewhere—”

  “Evan!” Miriam hissed.

  Evan grinned, shrugging at Weldon.

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying to take advantage of an opportunity.”

  “Nah, I can’t,” Weldon said. “You’d be surprised where comic book writers come from. Sometimes it’s just being in the right place at the right time. No promises, but if you have a script or a mini-comic, I could pass it on to my dad.”

  Evan bubbled over with delight, showering Weldon with gratitude. Mir stared at him, remembering the night after they’d seen the Avenging Queen movie, Evan shrugging and saying he didn’t mind the idea of running his father’s business. He’d always been terrible at school; he never knew when to be quiet, when to listen and memorize dates and names. He always handed his assignments in late. But he loved comics. A memory floated into Mir’s mind: Evan sitting alone during lunch at school, writing furiously in a spiral notebook, a pile of comics beside him. Have you been writing stories all this time, and you never told me? Mir thought. Why would you hide that from me?

  Evan was practically dancing in place as he and Weldon swapped email addresses, phones cupped in their hands. Weldon assured him that he’d try to get the script in front of his father, but he couldn’t do much beyond that. It was typically editors who did the hiring at Warrick Comics, not their CEO. Evan nodded furiously, promising to send Weldon a script, the best script he’d ever written, the best script anyone had ever written, as soon as possible.

  The bell on the front door of the Emporium of Wonders clanged as Evan thundered out of the store, shouting his goodbyes over his shoulder. Mir waited until th
e sound of the bell subsided before turning toward Weldon.

  “Can you really do that, give your dad a TomorrowMen script written by someone you don’t know? And could he really get hired?”

  Weldon leaned one elbow on the counter, and Mir slid backward as he encroached on her personal space. She got a closer glimpse of his jacket: definitely real leather, definitely expensive.

  “Sure. Comics are a weird industry; people get hired in strange ways,” Weldon said. “The guy writing the current TomorrowMen used to do comics on the internet. He didn’t draw them or anything, he just took photographs of his friends and traced the photos. But the writing was really good, and he gained a following. Eventually an editor saw his comics and hired him.”

  “Really?” Mir said. “They just hired some guy who did free online comics to write a TomorrowMen comic?”

  “Like I said, it’s a weird, weird industry,” Weldon said. “There’s no direct path to becoming a comic book writer or artist. I think there are a few schools that offer courses in comic writing or drawing, but it’s not like becoming a lawyer. You don’t go to school, graduate with a degree, and get hired by a publisher and draw comics for the next thirty years. Some writers have English or creative writing degrees, but you don’t need that kind of background to get hired. You just need a knack for writing comic scripts.”

  “And the artists?”

  “The artists,” Weldon said darkly, as though contemplating a long-held secret. “The artists come from anywhere, and they’re all kinds of crazy. They’ll have backgrounds in animation, in illustration or commercial work. When I was a kid, my parents used to have these big barbecues after Comic-Con and invite all of the artists and writers—”

  “Comic-Con? Is that the convention in San Diego?”

  Weldon nodded.

  “Yeah, it used to be a gathering just for comics, an opportunity for creators to meet their fans and hang out with their friends. But then movie studios started turning comics into movies and the whole thing got completely out of hand.”

  Mir leaned forward on the store counter, trying to imagine the madness of Comic-Con. A crush of people, all decked out in nerd paraphernalia, drawn to the West Coast like moths to a flame.

  “My parents used to live in San Diego, and they’d have this giant get-together for everyone who worked on the TomorrowMen comics. They’d, like, roast a pig in our backyard and everyone would stuff their faces. Mom would try to put me to bed before everyone got really drunk, but I’d sneak out to watch the whole thing.”

  Mir tried to picture a miniature Weldon in footie pajamas, sneaking out of bed to peer down at a crowd of drunken cartoonists.

  “Comics were all they talked about,” Weldon continued. “Eventually they’d break off into little groups and the artists would sit and draw, and the writers would argue about writing. It was like it consumed them. It was all they could ever imagine doing.”

  Mir caught the note of wonder in his voice. He wasn’t looking at her, rather staring off at something in the distance. She couldn’t help but look at his profile again. It would be very easy to admit to herself that Weldon Warrick was nice to look at, and that was something Mir was pretty sure she shouldn’t do.

  “My mom paints all the time,” Mir said. “And it’s not like it’s easy for her, like she just does it because it’s fun. She’s always trying to improve, to learn new techniques, and sometimes that’s difficult. But I don’t think she could ever imagine not painting. It’s like painting is an innate part of her, something that can’t be removed.”

  Weldon looked at Mir.

  “An innate part of her?”

  Mir hesitated. Weldon waited, his gaze direct on her face. She didn’t think he was trying to make her uncomfortable, but the directness of his stare was disconcerting. She stared back, and tried to explain.

  “It’s like … it’s like painting is something she needs to do. It’s more than feeling love for something, because love changes. If it’s a person you love, sometimes you don’t love that person because they’re being a jerk to you. Or sometimes you fall out of love. But if you have something that’s this … part of you, losing it would be more than losing something you loved, it would be like losing a limb. It would change how you functioned as a person.”

  Weldon blinked, his gaze softening.

  “I like that explanation,” he said, and smiled. Mir felt something in her chest flutter, just a little.

  The bell above the front door to the Emporium of Wonders jangled, and Mir and Weldon jerked apart. She hadn’t noticed she’d been leaning in as she’d been talking, the distance between them narrowing. A family of four tumbled through the front door, the two children already shouting when they spotted the TomorrowMen merchandise. Miriam fixed a smile to her face and beamed a greeting at them.

  “Welcome to the Emporium of Wonders! If there’s anything I can help you with, please ask!”

  The parents gave her a distracted look and tiredly began following their bellowing children around the store. Mir winced when one of the kids picked up a forty-dollar Skybound action figure and shook the box heartily.

  “Kids love that stuff,” Weldon said. “The merchandising makes three times what the comics pull in. Kind of unfair, when you think about it. Everything comes from the comics, but the comics bring in a pittance compared to the newest Skybound doll.”

  “Not a doll,” said Miriam. “Action figure.”

  Weldon grinned at her. “Right. Action figure—oh hey, you don’t, um, run, do you?”

  “Run?”

  “Y’know, jogging. Exercise?”

  “Oh, no, I hate exercise. I prefer to sit and be driven places, as God intended.”

  “That was me a couple years ago,” Weldon said. “Then I started running and—”

  One of the two children tore up to the counter, the Skybound action figure clutched between his paws. He threw it on the counter and howled, “THIS MOMMY THIS!” His mother joined him, pulling her wallet from her shoulder bag. Weldon backed away to give them room, and waved at Mir.

  “Anyway, you’re busy now, so I’ll—I’ll see you around, okay?”

  Miriam began ringing up the purchase, nodding an “okay” at Weldon. As she passed the action figure back to the jubilant child she caught another glimpse of Weldon through the Emporium of Wonders’ large front window, walking away with his hands in his jacket pockets. His head was down, and his shoulders seemed slumped a little, as though he was disappointed in something.

  Did he come to the store just to see me? Mir wondered.

  The parent of the demanding child put three twenties on the counter in front of Mir, and she distracted herself with getting change. The family left as quickly as they had entered, their child roaring delightedly over his new toy.

  Miriam leaned her forearms on the counter.

  He came to see me, she thought. She remembered Weldon stepping through the Emporium of Wonders’ front door, his missed step at the sight of Evan. She ducked her head and rubbed a hand across the nape of her neck, under the thicket of her ponytail. The thought of Weldon Warrick coming to visit her at the Emporium of Wonders was not unpleasant.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The worst thing about being banished from your home and shipped off to the far reaches of Canada was the boredom. Weldon lay on a couch in the front living room and stared at the ceiling, listening to the silence that blanketed his aunt and uncle’s huge, empty house. The house had three rooms designated “recreational,” plus a large finished basement, which had a pool table. Weldon had tried to practice on the pool table, but playing without a partner wasn’t fun and he soon abandoned it. There were nearly six hundred channels on the television, but after watching three episodes of a pawn-shop-based reality show, Weldon decided TV was a lost cause and turned it off. He’d even finished his online homework for the week, handing it in to his mysterious teacher on the other side of the internet.

  Weldon checked his phone for the fifteenth time. No mes
sages. He checked a couple of comic blogs and read opinion pieces on the upcoming TomorrowMen movie. According to the internet, the movie was going to be “sick,” “awesome,” and “worse than the craps I take in the morning.”

  Weldon rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin up on a pillow. No one had messaged or called him since he’d been in Sandford. But who would? Weldon let his phone drop onto his chest, thinking. He’d always had friends, but his high school friends had been different from the kids he’d known when he was younger. His mother had left the summer before ninth grade, and he had gone into high school angry, looking for people to be angry with. He had abandoned his middle school friends and gotten to know the boys who were always late to class and rude to the teachers. The boys who liked to pick fights with other boys, for no reason other than it was something to do. Weldon had hated how he felt around his friends, but it was better than the exhausted loneliness he felt when he was by himself. When he thought of his family.

  His phone rang. He bolted up from the couch and stared at the phone in surprise. The display blinked DAD.

  “Hello?”

  “Weldon, how are you?” David Warrick sounded almost cheerful. Like he’d had several good nights’ sleep. Possibly because I haven’t been around, Weldon thought.

  “I’m good.”

  “Settling in okay with your aunt and uncle?”

  Like I had any choice, Weldon thought.

  “Yeah, they’re fine. The bed’s comfortable, anyway.”

  A pause.

  “I appreciate you being willing to do this,” his dad said. “Everything is crazy around here. Late nights, constant meetings. Trying to get everything right. It wouldn’t have been fun for you.”

  “I know, it’s okay. I’m fine here.”

  I only stole a car my first day in town. I only got into a fight with a bunch of local assholes. I only started hanging out with the granddaughter of the guy your father ripped off when he created the TomorrowMen. Weldon took a deep breath and closed his eyes, willing himself to be calm.