FanGirl Read Online Free

on.”
    I follow Iris and her dark braids, pushing through the crowd of families and friends. When she gets to the circle engulfing Gabe, she grabs my hand and pushes through a break between two of our classmates. I hunch down and follow her, popping up on the other side. When Iris wants something, nothing, including rudely busting through other people, will stop her.
    “I really love your work and used a portion of Issue 1 as an example on my graphic design final, comparing modern comic designs to earlier works,” Owen James says. He’s one of Reid’s best friends. Whatever. “I’m hoping to draft my own comic. I have this idea where this guy, an archeologist, is exposed to —“
    “That sounds amazing Owen, but really, Gabe has like, 10 minutes or something and he’s not here to listen to your comic book pitch,” Iris interjects. She holds up her phone and takes an unflattering picture of a stunned and confused Gabe.
    “Hey!” Owen argues, but she has inserted us in the limited space between Owen and Gabe.
    “Hi, I’m Iris and,” she drags me closer, “this is Ruby, and we’re big fans. Huge fans. In fact…”
    Mr. Long, our principal, appears. “Sorry Miss Johnson, but I need Mr. Foster to come with me.”
    “But I was just telling him about…“
    “Iris, the press are here and waiting for us.” Even the principal wants his five minutes of fame.
    “Sorry,” he says. He narrows his eyes at me and frowns. “Z.net, right?”
    Iris jumps up and down, “Right! Z.net!”
    “This way, Mr. Foster.”
    He offers us an apologetic smile and is taken away by Mr. Long. I know I’m standing like a deer in headlights. Gabe recognized me. From the video. He must have recognized me. There was no doubt.
    “Ruby!”
    “I know!”
    “Gabe Foster knows who we are.” She’s about to go running after him but the crowd swallows him up as he goes across the room.
    “He saw the video,” I say.
    “I’m going to go blog this right now,” she says, her fingers already on her phone. “And tweet this picture. I can’t believe we didn’t get a photo with him. I just saw him and my mind blanked and, holy crap, I can hardly remember what happened.”
    “Well,” I say, feeling a little dazed and confused myself. “We met Gabe Foster and kind of made fools of ourselves.”
    “But he recognized us! He recognized you!”
    I nod.
    “This may be the best day ever,” she says, her smile huge and wide.
    “It may just be.”
    g
    “ Do you think he’ll sign autographs this year?” I ask Iris. We’re in a FantasyCon costume workshop we’ve created in my room. “Only we would get a chance to meet him up close and personal and blow it.”
    “Look, that was out of our control” she replies, while shredding an old pair of jeans. She’s dressing as Chloe [8] . “I wonder if anyone will mention the video in the panel.”
    “I’m sure everyone in the Zombie Parade has seen it. Right? Obviously the die-hards have. I still can’t believe we’re leading the parade!” The scene in our movie is early, before Alexandra developed her trademark look and picked her weapon of choice. A hatchet. I’m attempting her more iconic look this weekend. The jeans from the video are cut to shorts and frayed at the ends. Her kitty shirt is refashioned into a tank. Black boots that stop midway up my calves complete the look. Real weapons are not allowed into the Con, so I fashioned one out of paper mache.
    My mom pokes her head in the room, James Brown slipping through her feet. “Ready?” My mom’s aware of my obsession. Supportive? I guess. She’s tolerant at least. Our families gave us this weekend as a graduation present. Other girls went on cruises and trips to Aruba, we chose FantasyCon.
    “Almost, Mom. Just making sure these outfits work.” I shift my tank a little. “What?”
    “She’s looking at your rack.” Thanks, Iris.
    “Language, Iris. But yes, I suppose I am. I don’t recall them being so