Page 36 of Foes & Cons
“Yes,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, I should beecstatic, right? Iwasecstatic for about thirty-eight seconds.” I look roundjust as Vivian struts through the foyer, Charlie Chamberlain and Sadie at her side. She catches my eye and winks at me. I turn to Roxy. “Of all the people, Roxy.All the people.”
“I know, babe. She’s . . .” Roxy tilts her head, watching Vivian walk towards the lifts, “intimidating.”
Vivian bends over to adjust her trouser leg and Roxy’s eyes kind of mist over. I clear my throat.
“Sorry.” Roxy gives herself a shake. “It’ll befine. This isn’t about looks or personality.”
“Hey!” I say, crossing my arms.
“You know what I mean,” she says, dismissing my shattered feelings with a wave of her hand.
“Like I haven’t been through enough,” I humph.
“This is aboutVampire Falls, babe, and who wants the prize more. You are the biggest fan in this hotel.” She frowns at the notes in her hand, nodding as she turns a page over. It has theVampire Fallslogo at the top, a table and lots of text. “It’s all here but, shock horror, times are subject to change. It’s a quiz later, with points for first, second and third place, cosplay tonight with guest judges, and then a mystery heat tomorrow. We just need to strategise, and you’ll nail it. I have zero doubt.”
Her faith in me wipes the slate of that comment about looks and personality. A bit. I uncross my arms and lean forward, watching Vivian glide effortlessly through the hotel and life in general. I turn back to Roxy, who is watching me with an eyebrow raised.
“Please share,” she says with a sigh, shuffling the paperwork together and sliding it back into the envelope. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you see how she sat down on that chair on stage?” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I did.”
“I mean, was it necessary? Who sits on chairs like that?”
“Sexy people,” says Roxy, smiling a little.
“But why? Chairs are designed to be sat on in a specific way –comme ci,” I say, with a flourish.
“I get scared when you think you can speak French, babe.”
“Like she didn’t have the attention of the entire hall already, she has to sit on a chair like that. Am I missing something?” I say. Roxy looks like she’s preparing for sudden movements. “I’m trying it.”
“Why,” she says, more of a statement than a question.
“Get into the head of the enemy.” I stand up and turn the chair round. “Maybe I’ve been missing out. Maybe I’ll love it.”
I force my leg over the chair, catching my boot on the seat, but I don’t let that stop me.
“It doesn’t really work if it’s not . . . babe, stop. What’s gottenintoyou this weekend?” Roxy stands and puts her hands up, looking over her shoulder. “You’re wearing a skirt, Eliza. It doesn’t work with that kind of chair. Nobody wants to seethat.”
I ignore Roxy and, though I absolutely hate saying this,I actually see the appeal. Apart from the underpants and tight gusset flashing, I’m extremely comfortable.
“I get it; the backrest is a like a front-rest for your arms. Not bad,” I say, aware that I’m still exposing myself through the open back of the chair. “Maybe if I put my legs . . . through . . . this . . . bit.”
I manage to get a foot through each section. I smile up at Roxy, triumphant.
“Happy?” says Roxy, shaking her head. I nod. I can tick sitting on a chair backwards off my bucket list. “Let’s go then. I don’t want to wait ages for autographs, and it starts in ten minutes.”
“OK.”
I go to get up, pressing my hands on the seat and the back of the chair, which is now the front of the chair.
“What’s wrong?” asks Roxy, in the tone of someone who knowsexactlywhat’s wrong.
I swallow, and look up at her.
“I’m stuck, Roxy,” I say. “I’m stuck in the chair.”
