Chapter Sixteen Repercussions
Meri
My watch reminded me that I needed to be at the meeting room in five minutes. All the panelists were supposed to be there, then they would announce us onto the stage one by one.
It was a popularity contest, with the most popular going last. I wondered briefly where I would be in the line up, wondering which would be worst. Going first meant not being able to follow anyone else out and knowing if someone better had come along I would have been replaced in an instant.
Going last meant long lasting applause and a lot of noise.
I could do this. It was only a few hours more than I could hide away in the hotel room. Tomorrow morning, I could emerge, just Meri Bennet once more.
Breathe, focus, and reset, I reminded myself.
Next time I would tell Tara no. No more big conventions unless some major modifications happened. Everyone would think I was weird, or a snob, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t fair to me to push myself like this.
The door to the washroom opened and I stilled at the sound. The last thing I needed right now was an enthusiastic fan in close quarters.
“I said it’s too loud," a younger voice said, the words tight and strained in a way that suggested this wasn’t the beginning of the conversation, but an ongoing issue.
“We can go outside," another voice replied, softer and careful. “We don’t have to stay. We can just leave if it’s too much for you."
“No, I want to stay," the first voice said quickly. “It’s just that everything is so much. There’s so many people, it’s loud, the lights are so bright…” She stopped, the sentence cutting off with a sniffle.
I stilled, recognizing the cusp of a meltdown.
“Okay," the older voice said. “Okay, we can figure this out. Just take a breath for me. Slow it down."
“I am breathing," the girl replied, sharper now, frustration edging into it. “That’s not the problem."
There was a small sound, fabric shifting, maybe a hand moving where it didn’t quite know where to go.
“I should have brought my headphones," the girl said, quieter now but no less strained. “I was going to pack them but they weren’t in my bag."
“I know," the companion said quickly. “Why don’t we have them couriered to the hotel? It won’t take long."
“It will take too long. I’ll miss the panel," the girl said, sadness in her voice.
Silence stretched between them, not empty but filled with everything that wasn’t working.
I knew that space. The moment where solutions stopped helping because the problem wasn’t something that could be fully solved even with accommodations or aids. How many times had I not had the support I needed when it mattered most?
My hand tightened slightly against the edge of the stall door and I made a decision that I knew would cost me. Reaching for the latch, I opened the door.
The girl was younger than I expected. Sixteen, maybe seventeen.
Her hands were pressed flat against the counter, fingers spread as though she needed the contact to anchor herself.
Her shoulders were tight, drawn up in a way that suggested she was holding more than she could comfortably manage.
Her focus wasn’t on either of us. It was fixed somewhere just beyond the mirror, on a point that didn’t move.
Her companion stood just behind her, one hand hovering uncertainly at her back, not quite touching, not quite sure if she should.
I stepped forward, pulling the Lupe earplugs from my ears, wiping them on the edge of my dress.
“These might help," I said, keeping my voice even as I held out the pair in my hand.
“Oh, she won’t be able to hear anything with earplugs," the older woman said a little dismissively.
“They’re Lupe. They’re made so that it helps to filter the noise so you can focus better.
There are different settings for different situations," I explained.
I hesitated before I confessed my own issues.
“I sometimes get a little overwhelmed by noise, especially if a lot of people are all in the same room. They work really well."
The girl blinked, her attention shifting slowly, deliberately, as though the movement required more effort than it should have. Her eyes widened in shock. “Oh! Elowyn Ashwood is offering me her Lupe earplugs."
I had an awkward smile. “They can help."
She hesitated for half a second, then reached for them carefully, her fingers brushing mine briefly before she pulled the pair of plugs toward her. She blinked and smiled. “This is better than any autograph. Thank you."
I watched as she fit them into place. “How is that? Feel better."
“It doesn’t sound much different," she murmured, a little disappointed.
“Wait until you get into the crowd. Then it will make a big difference," I assured her.
Her companion exhaled, relief immediate and visible. “Thank you. We’ve been looking forward to the convention for so long and neither of us wanted to cut it short."
The girl adjusted the earplugs again. “Can we get a picture?”
“Absolutely," I agreed. “Maybe in the hallway outside? I doubt you want the bathroom as the background."
The cost of that small kindness followed me out into the hallway the moment the washroom door closed behind me. The convention noise hit me full force. Every voice seemed sharper now. Every footstep landed harder. Somebody laughed nearby, and the sound cut through me like a dropped plate.
I took a couple of photos with them in the hallway, trying to ignore the sound of people heading for the other event room in hopes of getting a seat. A couple of fans spotted me.
“Can we get a photo too?” a group of girls asked.
“Just a quick one. I really do need to get to the panel," I murmured, feeling a little trapped.
“Elowyn! Over here! Can I get my book signed?” A book and silver marker were shoved into my hands. I quickly scribbled across the front and handed it back. “Thank you!”
“You’re welcome," I said the words automatically, years of my mother drilling them into me bringing up the automatic habit.
Another book was shoved into my hands and I quickly signed it, trying to move away through the crowd with a strained smile. “I’m sorry, I really need to go."
Even as more people called for my attention, I ignored them and kept walking. There was an especially thick group of people ahead and I realized cutting through them would mean brushing up against people.
I just couldn’t do it.
Slipping through a door, I hoped it would connect to the room I needed to be in. There was extra furniture here, a sheet draped over something tall. Apparently I had stepped into a storage area.
Then I heard Tara’s voice.
“... you wanted the opportunity and I set it up. For some reason she seems to be more resistant than ever," Tara said, a slightly accusatory tone to her voice.
I should have kept walking. Instead, I stopped just beyond the corner, where I could hear without being seen.
“I haven’t even had a chance to talk to her properly about a film. It’s barely been a couple of days. A conversation like this takes time and Meri needs special handling," Aryn answered, and the sound of his voice in that moment hit me hard.
I grabbed a stack of chairs beside me, trying to steady myself as the world tilted.
“Meri doesn’t need special handling. She needs to see that there is an opportunity to increase her reach, to gain new fans, to possibly even hit more than just the best seller lists," Tara impatiently replied. “You need to convince her."
“I told you," Aryn said, his voice lower now, harder to make out under the swell of voices from the main hall as someone opened the door behind me. “I’m not..."
“Excuse me, we’re here to grab an extra set of chairs," one of the hotel workers told me.
I nodded, a lump in my throat as I stepped out of the way and back into the crowded hallway.
“There you are! We’ve been looking for you," one of the handlers grabbed my arm, causing me to jerk reflexively. They didn’t let go, trying to direct me through the crowd. “Coming through. Excuse us."
My mind was stalled in place and yet also running through everything at the same time.
Tara. Aryn. The way he had looked at me when we met, as though he expected to see me there.
The attention he gave me. Talking about books, about making Ember and Ink into a movie.
The way he had pitched in for the bathroom flooding.
The kindness on the porch. The game this morning.
The way he had looked at me as if I mattered.
My stomach dropped so suddenly I felt a clammy sweat and wondered if I was going to throw up.
He had known.
He had known who I was all along. He knew that Meri Benet was Elowyn Ashwood. Tara had told Aryn who I was and arranged that he would know that I was at my parent’s inn. He hadn’t just arrived out of coincidence. Aryn had come with a motive.
He was an actor. He wanted to see Ember and Ink made into a film. No doubt with him in the starring role.
Every memory rearranged itself at once, each one recast in a harsher light.
He told me he liked me.
A tear travelled down my cheek. He liked the idea of using me to get what he wanted, just like so many others.
I had been stupid to believe him. Lonely, weak, dumb Meri, wishing she had friends or a boyfriend. My heart cracked a little. I had wanted this so badly that I had ignored years of rejection, years of experience.
As for Tara, she had given my secret to someone I hadn’t given her permission to expose me to. All she saw was a way to use me for her own gain. She had been pushing and pushing.
She had gone too far.
The humiliation came first. Hot and immediate. Then the hurt followed, deeper and quieter, settling somewhere beneath it in a way that made it harder to breathe properly.
“Elowyn, they called your name. It’s your turn to go out," a handler told me, looking at me in concern.
I stared at her for a second before the words made sense.
“Yes," I said, though my voice sounded far away to my own ears.
She gave me a quick, efficient nod and gestured toward the panel room. I followed because I didn’t know what else to do. My body kept moving even though my thoughts had stopped feeling orderly.
The room was full of fans sitting in orderly rows of seats.
It was so full, there were even people standing along the back and outer walls.
I wondered for a moment if this many people in the room were breaking the fire code then realized I didn’t care.
The lights were bright. The audience erupted when they saw me, cheering and clapping.
I was last.
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Elowyn Ashwood was the most popular guest on the panel while Meri Bennet was friendless, heartbroken, and used.
I should have smiled and waved. Instead I sat in the comfortable armchair provided. A handler quickly gave me a bottle of water and a microphone.
The moderator began introducing us, her voice crisp and practiced, but I barely heard her. I was too busy trying to understand how much of it had been real, if any of it had.
Had he laughed about it afterward, with his friends, with his agent, with Tara herself? Had he thought I would be easy because I was lonely enough to be grateful for attention?
The questions in my head kept coming, each one worse than the last.
I sat there beneath the lights, in front of a room full of strangers who had come to hear Elowyn Ashwood, a person who didn’t exist, speak.