Be Dazzled Read online

  My scissors fly through the material, raining ribbons onto the floor as I cut out the sections I need. The panels pool together with barely a moment to settle before I’m gathering them together, needle and thread driven through their pinned edges. The pants come together, rough and quick, and I toss them to Luca.

  “Try them on,” I demand. He doesn’t even bother going to the changing room. He’s in his briefs in a second, then in the pants a second after that. I look up, take note of where I need to adjust them, and then pin a few darts in. I mark the darts, slip out the pins, and Luca’s half naked again. I know the crowd must be having some sort of reaction to this, but I don’t bother looking. I’m tailoring now, and I need to focus.

  The top is a bit easier. I don’t do sleeves. Sleeves are a nightmare, and I don’t have time to wait for the strange magic that only sometimes shows up when you create them. Besides, Luca will protest if I cover up his triceps.

  The cape is the easiest part. I coil and sculpt the bunched material around the neck of the dress form, finding the exact right balance before I hand-stitch it into place.

  “ONE HOUR!” announces Ginger. I take a breath and look around. The other teams’ projects are in similar states of half completion. I see that Inaya is dressed in a gorgeously tailored leotard of white silk. She’s fastening on a skirt, a pleated affair in three layers, made from rich jewel-toned fabric. She catches my eye and throws me a thumbs-up, but behind her, Christina is watching me, too, with a decidedly less encouraging vibe.

  I turn away. I saw what I needed to see. They’re doing Sailor Moon. A super popular cosplay and an anime icon. Except just plain Sailor Moon would be too easy. Christina and Inaya have reached for the heavens and brought down the most powerful version of the icon: Eternal Sailor Moon from the Stars season.

  I get back to work. Our cosplay looks good but plain. And then it hits me—I know what we need to do. I dash into the aisles and return to Luca with arms spilling over with jewels.

  “Bedazzling? Really?”

  “Really.”

  I’ve chosen a panoply of metallics, golds, and coppers.

  I bedazzle like my life depends on it. Luca joins me, following the pattern I’ve started, replicating it perfectly and symmetrically upon the chest of the armor. We’ve created a bird of metal and power, wings spread wide. Then we’re fingers deep in Rub ’n Buff, dotting it on, taking care to avoid the black armor beneath.

  “Hey, look at me,” Luca whispers.

  I do.

  He dots some of the metallic finish on my cheekbone. I’m about to return the favor when I see the cameras zoom in on us.

  “Remember when you put highlighter on me at Inaya’s show?” Luca says.

  “Yeah.”

  “I think about that all the time. I want you to do it again.”

  I stand on my toes, and he bends down so that our cheeks touch. When I step back, a streak of brass runs up his cheek, the cut of his cheekbone glowing. It brings back the memory of Inaya’s show, but also the memory of seeing Luca in the art room more than a year ago, gold spray paint soaking into his skin.

  Thinking that far back gives me a sudden nostalgic vertigo. Staring at Luca, I feel the past and present collide in me. For a long time I was lost. Angry. But right now I feel excited. It’s been forever since I’ve had this much fun making something. Spring Keeper and the Pinehorn were complex and mind-bending. HIM and Princess were intimidating and stressful. All of those builds were created furiously, leaving me tired and weak and barely alive enough to enjoy wearing them.

  But with this shitty bird costume that Luca and I have thrown together in eleven hours under high stress as the world cheered us on? It’s an entirely different feeling of accomplishment. It’s creation, bright and fast and real, and though I am tired, I feel whole again. Pieces of me that had long since drifted out of alignment have joined back together, and I’m a new machine. A new Raffy. I remember my heart, and within it, I finally find the energy to let go of the grudge that’s been keeping it going all this time.

  “Think we’ll win?” Luca asks.

  “Honestly? I don’t even care,” I say, and it’s the truth. “I’m just happy we made it to the end.”

  Luca gives me a curious look. “You sure you’re Raffy?”

  “I’m sure.” I smile.

  I’m halfway through suiting Luca up when I realize I never created shoes or any sort of arm armor, like bracers or even gauntlets. But Luca surprises me with two claw-footed boots, his actual shoes trapped beneath layers of foam and glue. And he’s made bracers, too. They’re thick, but expertly proportioned with the rest of the costume.

  “I didn’t have time for the bow and quiver,” Luca says as he shows me the rest of his work. “So I made a spear.”

  It’s simple, but the metal illusion is perfect. I find some scraps of leather, and a minute later, the spear has a real handle. It takes a few minutes more to glue on some extra studs, and suddenly the weapon looks camera ready.

  “Nice,” Luca breathes.

  I stand back, and I’m looking at a demon bird warrior. I don’t see the flaws. I only see the magic.

  The timer goes off a minute later, bright and shrill, and all hands go up.

  We did it.

  We actually finished.

  Twenty-Six

  Then

  Five months ago

  Inaya is a saint. A god. A legend. A savior. Not only does she let Luca and me move our half-built cosplays into her basement workshop, she even helps us finish them. We pay her in pizza, but half the time, she doesn’t even touch it. It’s like she just wants to have a project to advise on more than anything else. And her parents, whom I hadn’t met until now, are probably the nicest people ever. They welcome Luca and me into their home in a way neither of us is completely ready for.

  “They’re just happy I’m hanging out with other humans,” Inaya explains. “They support the cosplay stuff, but they still think it’s pretty weird. I’m sure seeing you guys here with me is a relief. For a while, I think they believed you were made up.”

  Somehow, with her help, we get the weaponry done. We get the LEDs installed so that the blades shift between purple and white. As the week draws to a close, I’m standing by myself in front of Inaya’s bedroom mirror, looking at our work. I’m unrecognizable.

  I’m a myth. A terror. An angel. The wings have a gorgeous sweep to them, each feather bending just slightly as I move around. The harnesses we made are comfortable and totally hidden beneath our armor. The metalwork gleams with polish, and you can even make out Inaya’s signature detailing on the plates. She added that as a surprise, pushing me to let her embellish. It hurt me a bit, but giving up complete ownership of every piece was something I should have done long ago. With her there, everything moved faster, and Luca became much more productive. As I take in the cosplay, I see evidence of his work everywhere. In a good way. The design itself is much more heightened, much more extravagant than something I would normally do. I’m dressed in his ambition, created with my skill, and finished with Inaya’s genius. It’s a prizewinning build that’s sure to get us tons of photo ops.

  Downstairs, I hear Inaya and Luca laughing. They’re on FaceTime with Luca’s parents, who call out of the blue a lot. Luca told them he and Inaya study together, and they believe him. Inaya is gorgeous, of course, and a girl, and they always make sure no crafts are in the background. As a result, Luca’s parents seem satisfied. Even better, they’re traveling to Connecticut the weekend of Blitz Con, so Luca doesn’t even need to think of an excuse.

  I sigh as more laughter rings through the upstairs hallway. It seems I’m always envious of what Inaya can create just by being herself.

  By the time Luca and Inaya enter the bedroom, I’m all smiles again.

  “Damn, Raff,” Luca says. “You look awesome. Can I try mine on, too?”


  “Of course,” I say. “In fact, you’d better. Tonight’s our last chance to make changes before we head out tomorrow. Inaya, are you still okay to drive?”

  She gives a double thumbs-up. “But we’re splitting parking.”

  Luca beams, then vanishes back downstairs to get dressed.

  “I’d better help him,” I say, edging toward the door. It’s hard to maneuver with these wings.

  “Don’t,” Inaya says. “I’ll make sure everything fits. And I’ll help him pack up. I want to see your face when he reveals the cosplay tomorrow at the con. It’ll be like a first look video.”

  “You mean like from a wedding photo shoot?”

  “Exactly,” she says, and she dashes after Luca.

  I catch myself grinning in the mirror. I know why, but I won’t let myself admit it. Reluctantly, I start to change back into my normal clothes. Tomorrow is a big day. The biggest, maybe. I couldn’t be more excited.

  * * *

  Shockingly, we make it out to Providence okay. The drive takes us two hours, which is twice as long as it should, but Inaya and Luca want to stop for fries. Twice. So we roll up to our hotel pretty late on Friday night. It’s raining a little, but it’s warm, and the whole world is painted in fuzzy neons.

  “It’s cool that Inaya’s parents are so chill,” Luca says as we wait for our room keys in the lobby. “I can’t believe they just let her do all this stuff.”

  “Yeah, well, they get that she’s a big deal in this world, and they want to support her. They just don’t want to come to all the events, if they can avoid it.”

  “Yeah,” Luca says wistfully.

  I get what Luca is feeling. Must be nice to be Inaya.

  By the time we’re upstairs, I’m wired with excitement. Inaya and I sprawl out on the beds, then jump back and forth between them as Luca checks out the bathroom, then the view from the window. He’s restless. I’m not sure how he explained the overnight to his parents, or if he even told them he was leaving Boston, and I do my best not to ask. Things between us haven’t thawed completely since he got in trouble. And he’s risking everything by being here with me now. I don’t want to remind him that I’m a liability, if I can help it. Good vibes only from me.

  “I brought face masks,” Inaya says as she unpacks. She tosses them onto one of the beds. They’re designed to look like masks from famous scary movies, which is very Inaya. “But first, let’s hang everything up. I want to steam a few things tonight.”

  Inaya helps me unpack Phobos and Deimos, laying the harnesses out first and then the wings. We hang the caul in the closet, which is very funny to only me. Then I help Inaya hang up her dress on the back of the bathroom door. As she runs the steamer over the fabric, I peel open one of the face masks and apply it. I am Freddy Krueger tonight. As I smooth down the cool edges, I realize Luca is gone.

  “He’s on the phone, I think,” Inaya says.

  I slip past her and out of the hotel room, still wearing the mask. I find Luca at the end of the hallway.

  I catch only the very end of his conversation. When he turns to me, his face is flushed. Splotchy. He asks, “What are you wearing?”

  “A mask.”

  “Why?”

  “For healthy, glowing skin. Who was that?”

  “My dad,” he says. His phone starts ringing again, but he sends it to voicemail. “My dumbass brother was supposed to cover for me, but he’s being a dick. Don’t worry, though, I’ll handle it.”

  “Wait, do your parents know you’re here?”

  “No, it’s cool. Can we not talk about it?”

  “Luca—”

  “Please? Can you just trust me?”

  I want to know more, to help if I can, but I’m not sure what I could even do. In the moment, the only thing that feels right is saying, “I trust you.”

  Luca takes my arm in his. When we get to the room, he pushes me against the wall right next to the door, and then very carefully kisses just my lips. I smile, and the mask droops a bit.

  “Careful, now,” he says, pushing it back into place. “Or I might just find out your secret identity under there.”

  “Don’t worry, I have my glasses in my backpack.”

  “So the mystery continues.” He winks.

  From the room comes a small bang, and we hear Inaya swear.

  “Let’s help her out?” I offer.

  Luca’s phone begins to ring again, but he powers it down. My chest tightens, but he throws me a rebellious smile.

  “Let’s!” he says, but the usual enthusiasm in his voice feels forced. Something is for sure wrong, and with every missed call, I can feel it going from bad to worse.

  Twenty-Seven

  Now

  The final judging takes place on a makeshift stage that the clubbers have put up in the fake studio, reorganizing the supplies behind it so they form a bright and textured backdrop. The judges sit at a long, narrow table on an opposing stage. The partitions are removed, and the Controverse crowd surges forward, filling the space in between the tables and workstations like tumbling beads.

  For the first time, we’re allowed to interact with the people who have been cheering for us. And absolutely everyone wants a photo. I last in the chaos for about ten minutes before I manage to escape and hide out in a nook. I linger there, watching Luca from afar, just enjoying his inexhaustible energy when it comes to entertainment.

  And then, from seemingly out of nowhere, May appears. She pulls me into a tight hug, and we nearly topple over into a shelf of embroidery hoops.

  “You did it, Raffy, you did it! You made it through! How the hell do you feel?”

  I’m beat. My fingers prickle with burns from the glue gun, pokes from the sewing needle, and scrapes from god knows what else. I’m sore all over, but I kinda like it. It’s evidence of a day spent trying my best.

  “I feel awesome,” I say.

  “You guys did great. I really thought maybe you’d kill each other, but wow! You just…figured it out.”

  I give her a benevolent curtsy, like I’m some sort of relationship saint. Then I ask, “How was the Art Mart?”

  “Good. Great, actually. But I’ll tell you later. I think you need to be onstage soon?”

  May is right. The judges have taken their seats, and Luca is waving me over. May squeezes my arm and wishes me luck, and then I’m racing behind the shelves as Waldorf Waldorf announces, “Let the Controverse Championship of Cosplay grand finale begin!”

  Taco Belle and Snow White Castle go first. Snow is the one in cosplay, and it’s a Bo Peep–style dress with an exaggerated hoopskirt. She sweeps onto the stage like she’s in a royal dressing room and not a makeshift craft store, and the dome of her dress swivels at her hips. It’s absolutely huge, the shape nearly a perfect sphere beneath her cinched waist, and it looks pink until she stops moving and we see the skirt is actually red with large white dots. The edges are piped in thick white tubes, and pronged teeth poke out from the bottom of the hem, flicking against her pink-stockinged legs. In contrast, her upper body is wrapped in leafy green, and on her head is the strangest item of all: a felted hat that looks like a flowerpot.

  “Oh, I get it,” Luca says. I get it a second later, along with everyone else, when Taco Belle gets on the stage and helps Snow White Castle into a headstand. The skirt shifts, the bell of it yawning open to form a toothy mouth, and she brings her stockinged legs together like a wagging tongue.

  “It’s the Piranha Plant from Mario!” says Waldorf Waldorf, and the crowd claps appreciatively at the bizarre transformation. Then Snow tries to get fancy and wave her arms (which are sleeved to look like leaves), and she falls out of the headstand. Snow and Belle roll together in a frantic tangle until finally a clubber rushes onstage to help them.

  The crowd loves this. I dare say it’s even better than me catapulting my crab claws into
the crowd during Primes. I finally relax, taking refuge in their misfortune.

  The Satoh twins go next. They’ve created an incredibly recognizable Jack Sparrow cosplay. I am sure the look is a hit with ladies between the ages of thirty and forty-five.

  And then Luca is up. There’s no real pretense to his performance, no canon-certified poses or self-serious acting. It’s just him and his crowd, and they adore him. Who wouldn’t? His performance is pure camp. There’s flexing, there’s power, and then, as the crowd reaches a fever pitch, Luca drops into a split.

  It happens quick enough that the wings billow up, settling back down around Luca as he raises his arms, victorious. Then he makes a show of not being able to get out of the split, and before I know it, I’m being shoved onstage to help him. There’s no denying the increase in cheers when I show up. At first I’m nervous, but then I’m not. I find Luca’s smile, half-hidden beneath his askew helmet, and it gives me the focus I need to keep the show going. I don’t drop into a split with him—I’m not trying to die today. Instead, I go behind Luca, pulling the wings out to their full span so we make a bizarre, Vegas-like tableau. It’s goofy and probably looks not half as glorious as it feels, but whatever.

  Luca and I run from the stage and back to the other teams, laughing the whole way. Then it’s time for Inaya and Christina, who have vanished into the aisles. I don’t understand why until music booms through the speakers.

  “Sailor Moooooon,” goes a familiar chorus. It’s the song she uses in the classic anime to transform. And that transformation is usually an iconic explosion of ribbons and gymnastics. It’s such a recognizable thing for lifelong anime fans that several people in the crowd start crying, realizing what they’re about to see.

  A figure takes the stage. Inaya, but she’s quick-changed her outfit. Now, she is dressed in a tight pink sheath, just head-to-toe coated in Pepto Bismol pink. Even her face—upon which anime eyes have been painted—and hair—in two iconic buns and pigtails—have been wrapped in fabric. The bodysuit has been airbrushed and bedazzled to iridescence, flashing as Inaya spins and poses.