Page 2 of All In

“I know. I seem to have none of that.”

We both laugh. My older sister is the self-appointed queen of the hot messes. But what she lacks in organization, she more than makes up for in heart. Because she’s the most generous person in the world. And she’s hilarious.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” I ask, because the only thing more fun than a comic con would be a comic con with Clover.

She shakes her head. “I’ve got my new job starting.”

I don’t even bother asking what this job is. She will likely have a new one by the time I get back from Dallas.

“I would like to see you win the big costume contest,” she says.

“It’s really just a showcase.”

“A showcase for super nerds,” Clover says.

“In the case of a fandom convention, there will be literal super nerds,” I say.

“Yes! So many superheroes. Which, in their defense, makes sense because the costumes are so readily available.”

“You mean not everyone spends half a year making their own costumes?”

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”

“Yes, I really am. Also, you’re totally going to win the contest.”

I shake my head. “It’s not really a competition. Just an opportunity to show off some hard work. Normal people,” I say, “don’t spend six months hand-embroidering silk panels with historically accurate Elven floral motifs.”

“Historically accurate?” Clover asks.

I roll my eyes. “Okay, technically that’s not true since elves aren’t real. But it’s as historically accurate as one can get with all of Tolkien’s details.”

My room, I will admit, looks like a fabric store and a Renaissance fair had a disagreement and neither won. My Arwen costume currently hangs from my closet door, It really is something to behold. I’ve always loved to sew, but this particular dress was a true labor of love. Each layer of silk and velvet catches the afternoon light, making the fabric almost look like water.

Clover looks over at the dress. “You truly outdid yourself on that one.”

“Yes, and I have the needle pricks to show for it. Six months of hand-stitching and pattern-drafting… Not to mention that one very dramatic incident involving the silver thread, a seam ripper, and a mug of tea I knocked onto the floor at two in the morning.”

Worth it.

“I still should’ve been able to get everything crucial into the one suitcase. I mean not the dress because I’m not folding that baby!”

“Maybe,” Clover says, picking her way carefully through a minefield of foam pieces and ribbon spools, “leave behind the sword.”

I gasp.

“The sword is for the Saturday photoshoot.”

“The Saturday photoshoot costume already has,” she picks up the list from my bed and reads from it, “a velvet underdress, an overdress, a removable train, a beaded circlet, a cloak, and what you have written here as ‘the sleeve panels (both pairs).”

“Correct.”

“Both pairs.”

“One is backup.”

She sets the list down with a slight grin.

“Clover.”