DOC AND I walk up and down until we finally find it: the room marked ‘PRIVATE TICKETED EVENT—LUNCH WITH THE MASTER.’ We hear the clatter of plates, the smell of steamy food, and the murmur of voices. Through the open door, we catch glimpses of people milling about a long buffet table.
But just barely. It’s hard to see past the mountain-sized security guy who’s guarding the door.
“Just act confident and walk straight past him,” Doc says, nudging me. “Maybe he won’t notice we’ve only got one pass between us.” My heart starts to thump. “Are you ready?” says Doc, taking my arm. “Here we go!”
But it’s no use—the security goon steps in front of us. “Sorry,” he says with a deep growl. “You both need passes if you both want to enter.”
A weird, desperate, pleading noise comes out of my throat, and the goon gives me a long warning look. I start to take off my badge to hand it to Doc.
Then the goon says, “Nope. They’re non-transferable.”
That’s when I feel a pulse of hot angry energy. “Come ON!” I say. “You have to let us both in! You have to!”
But Doc is shushing me, calming me down. “There, now—it’s all right, Stanley. Thanks for trying. It’s all right.” He takes my shaking hand, and wraps my fingers around the handle of his black art portfolio. Then he winks at me. “How about you take this in? See what you can do, kid. I’ll wait out here.”
Great. I have to go in there alone? And now, Doc’s whole career in comics depends on what happens next.
No pressure or anything.
Inside the room, the food smells make my stomach heave a little. I’m sweating, and my heart’s still thumping, thanks to the security goon.
I clutch Doc’s portfolio in front of me like a shield, and navigate around the edges of the room, searching people’s faces, looking for the Master. There are a lot of folks with scruffy beards and baseball caps and professional-looking ID badges strung around their necks.
And it’s like I’m the Invisible Man or something. Everyone ignores me.
Finally, I hear a familiar, deep, booming laugh. . . . There he is, at the back of the room! The Master is smaller, older, and balder than he seems on TV, but still impressive, still a legend, standing tall in his sweep of purple cape, the same cape from this morning. He’s standing in a circle of fans, deep in conversation.
I don’t know what to do. So I just start to edge nearer and nearer, until I’m standing right behind him. I tell myself when the moment’s right, I’ll get his attention. Touch his arm, or something.
But after his conversation is done, it’s like I’m paralyzed. I can’t reach out and touch him. I try to clear my throat. I can’t even do that.
I’m a failure.
He starts to walk away.
My heart sinks.
Then, suddenly, the Master teeters, clutching at his throat, gagging! He turns and notices me, and his eyes bulge. His hand flails out to me! Suddenly, I’m thrown off balance— I stumble too—
What is happening?
Oh. I’ve been standing on his cape!
It’s a good thing the Master’s got a sense of humor. He stops gagging pretty quickly after I get off his cape. And after we get all my wild, desperate apologies and stuff out of the way, he even laughs and tells me not to worry.
“What’s your name, kid?” he asks. “Congratulations on your Trivia Quest win, by the way!”
“Thanks. I’m Stanley Fortibras,” I say.
“Well, Stanley Fortinbras,” says the Master. “What’s in the portfolio?”
I don’t have to do much beyond open it and lay out a few quick spreads on a table. The drawings do all the talking.
The Master’s bushy eyebrows shoot up when he sees the back-and-forth sketches Doc and I did of John Lockdown. I think my chest is going to burst with pride. Then he laughs at the one where Doc steps into the utility room portal, brandishing his galactic-supercharged mop and pail. And he frowns, when he sees Doc’s and my rendering of all the branches in my worry-tree.
We talk some more. He asks me a lot of questions. Then, the Master calls Doc into the room. They start talking. They talk some more. They talk about some business stuff . . .
I’m grinning so hard, my cheeks actually hurt. But I can’t stop. I can’t stop grinning!