In 2005, my idol as supposed to show up in Louisville, Kentucky. I had a sore throat the morning I was going, but I didn’t care. I had money for a round-trip plane ticket, so no broken-down cars. The airport wasn’t very far, so I decided to walk and get some exercise. Halfway there, I felt a drip on my head. Rain. Figured if I was halfway there, I’d be okay, right? Wrong. I caught a fever and had to have my mom pick me up. More Bad Luck.
Last year, he was supposed to be going to a book signing at a convention in Chicago. I thought that was great! There’d be no way I could miss him!
At the convention, I figured I’d get in line before anyone else… even Hideki. My friend, Brit, had come along to the convention, too. She was in pursuit of a different idol. That was fine by me, so long as I got to meet Hideki. Just as I was headed for the table, Brit came running up to me screaming her head off about how she had found her idol and she wanted me to take a few pictures of them. Okay, fine… It shouldn’t have taken too long. Unfortunately, she wanted a lot. By the time I got to the line, 100 other people were already there. And who was to blame? A crafty little guy I like to call, you guessed it, Bad Luck.
This year, I’m not letting anything phase. This time… he’s coming to me—to Northwest Indiana. He’ll be at the local “Y,” just 30 minutes from my house by foot. This is the moment I’ve waited for all my life. Well, minus the 16 other years I’ve lived. I have the money—a small fee of $20, I have the transportation—two small feet, and I have the motive! Three previous years of pain, rejection and Bad Luck can’t stop me now!
I’m chatting away on the phone with Brit. Her response is reluctant as I tell her my thoughts.
“Kiley…” she’s being really slow about it, “Are you sure about going? I mean, with the past incidents…”
I’m stopping her sentence short, “Apparently you haven’t heard my recently discovered motto… ‘As long as there’s a shred of hope, I’ll never give up.’”
“Really…” She’s dragging her voice. I don’t think she believes me.
“Besides,” my voice lightening, “It’s foolproof. Oops…” The alarm on my watch is going off. “Gotta go! I’ll tell you all about it later.”
Clicking the phone off, I grab my book-bag—holding my wallet, favorite volume of NeverEnd, some of my own work, and other various necessities. It’s 11:00am. The book-signing won’t start until 12:30am. Great.
I walk down the street going over my well-practiced speech in my head. ‘I love your work… I plan to write manga, too… please marry me.’ Hmm… I’m contemplating that last part. How would mother feel about me bringing home a man 7 years older than me?