Stranger Than Fanfiction

“Our next question will be from Kylie Trig,” the announcer said.

The audience cheered for YouTube personality Kylie Trig as if she were an actor in the show. Kylie stood and waved to her admirers like a pageant contestant. She was in her late teens, had bright blue hair, and wore cat’s-eye glasses and a rainbow tutu. Even before she opened her mouth, she was a lot to take in.

“Helloooo, Wizzers!” Kylie said into her microphone with the energy of a coked-out toddler. “It’s so good to be back at WizCon!”

It wasn’t long ago that Kylie was just another Wiz Kid superfan following the cast from airport to airport, hotel to hotel as they traveled the country on press tours. Kylie started vlogging about her brief encounters with them (stretching the truth from time to time) and developed a following of her own. As the show gained an audience, so did Kylie’s videos.

Today, she was one of YouTube’s most watched personalities and had become a New York Times bestselling author when HarperCollins published her debut memoir, Confessions of a Fangirl: A Wizzer Love Story. According to Forbes magazine, Kylie Trig was now worth more money than the whole cast put together.

Interestingly enough, the success of Wiz Kids went to Kylie’s head more than it went to the head of anyone officially attached to the show. The girl who used to wait outside in the rain for hours just to get a glimpse of Cash, Amy, or Tobey would now only go to Wiz Kid events if she was paid six figures and flown private. In Cash’s opinion, Kylie Trig was the American Dream for a new generation.

“My first question is for Cash and Amy,” Kylie said. “What is the fate of Peachfuzzle? And do you love Peachfuzzle as much as the Peachfuzzlers?”

Cash stared at Kylie like she was speaking another language, but he consciously kept his emoting to a minimum so his face wouldn’t be turned into an obnoxious meme later.

“Huh?” Cash asked. “What’s a Peachfuzzler?”

Kylie playfully rolled her eyes as if he had asked her if blue was her natural color. “The shippers who ship Dr. Peachtree and Dr. Bumfuzzle,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve seen the hashtags.”

“I thought they called themselves Bumtrees,” Cash said.

Kylie shook her head. “We changed it.”

Terrence Wallem looked from side to side in a daze. He had no clue what the hell anyone was talking about. Whatever Peachfuzzlers or Bumtrees were, they couldn’t be appropriate for the children in the audience.

“Cash and I couldn’t be more thrilled so many people care so deeply about the relationship between our characters,” Amy said, desperate to say something before the panel was over.

“So will they be on or off next season?” Kylie asked. “Cash?”

This was a very tricky question, especially since Cash didn’t have an answer. The “shippers” were the most passionate group of the Wiz Kids fandom. If Cash said something they liked, his social media would be flooded with pictures, videos, and GIFs of Dr. Bumfuzzle and Dr. Peachtree kissing or looking lovingly at each other. If he responded with something they didn’t like, his social media would be bombarded with pictures, videos, and GIFs of decapitated animals, human feces, and militants destroying priceless artifacts. He had to be careful.

“Well, they’ve been on and off since season five,” Cash said with a nervous quiver in his voice. “So, since they were mostly off last season, I would assume they’d be back on next season.”

His answer was music to the Peachfuzzlers’ ears. The shippers throughout the audience stood and applauded. It was an emotional moment of triumph for them, as if the football team from their hometown had just won the Super Bowl.

“For the next question, we’ll go back to Jennifer Smalls,” the announcer said.

Jennifer leaned back in her seat, retracting her head like a snake about to strike. Cash mentally braced himself for the venom coming his way.

“My next question is also for Cash,” Jennifer said. “Over the last few weeks, I’ve gotten hundreds of tweets from people saying they’ve seen you stumbling out of bars or dancing erratically in clubs. Has the stress of Hollywood caught up to you? Is it true you’re hanging up your role-model cape in exchange for a pair of bad-boy boots?”

The entire convention went dead silent. Apparently you could take the girl out of Gotcha, but you couldn’t take the Gotcha out of the girl. To Cash’s horror, Damien spoke on his behalf before he had a chance to respond.

“People forget Cash is just a normal twenty-two-year-old when he’s off set,” he said. “As long as things don’t get out of hand, he has every right to have a little fun while he’s still young.”

Cash snapped his head toward Damien so hard it was a miracle his neck didn’t break. He had never heard something so kind and backstabbing uttered in the same breath before. Cash was tempted to splash Damien with water just to see if he would melt.

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