A Skeleton in the Family by Leigh Perry

enough to grab half the order of nachos I’d intended to hog all to myself. My daughter has a highly effective radar system for sensing when I’ve scored junk food. Fortunately I’m used to her methods, so I kept the M&M’s hidden until she’d zoomed off again.
    About mid-afternoon, as I was wondering if there were more comfortable seats available elsewhere in the building, I saw adjunct-slash-reporter Fletcher Wildman making his way through the crowded hall, stopping now and then to take photos. I waited to wave until his viewfinder was aimed in my general direction, and he came over.
    â€œMay I join you?” he asked.
    â€œPlease do.” I shoved my accumulating trash to one side so he wouldn’t feel like he was sitting down at a garbage heap. “Are you here as an otaku or as a reporter?”
    â€œDefinitely as a reporter, and I’m hoping otaku isn’t some obscure insult.”
    â€œYes and no, actually. In Japan, it’s a derogatory term for anime and manga fans—like a nerd or a geek—but American fans call themselves otaku proudly. So no insult was intended.”
    â€œThat’s good to know.” He pulled out a long, spiral-bound pad labeled
Reporter’s Notebook
. “How do you spell that?”
    I told him.
    â€œCan I assume you’re an otaku yourself?”
    â€œI’m afraid not. I’ve never mastered the technique of reading books backwards, which limits my enjoyment of manga substantially. I’m here with my daughter.”
    â€œDamn, I was hoping for a guide to this strange new world in which I’ve found myself.”
    â€œI can help you with the basics—I’ve taken Madison to quite a few anime cons.”
    â€œThat would be great,” he said and, with a total lack of subtlety, checked my left hand for a wedding band, earning points by looking pleased by the seductive sight of my bare finger.
    I gave him the same treatment, and was glad to see that his ring finger was equally exposed.
    Fletcher said, “I’m really out of my comfort zone, and I’m not at all sure what these people are dressed as. They are photogenic, though.”
    â€œCosplay is a big part of the anime/manga scene,” I said, and launched into an overview of the tropes of the field, mentioning some of the most popular fandoms and identifying some of the characters walking by, including Sid in his robe. Fletcher scribbled furiously, and suddenly I realized I’d been talking for a solid half an hour. “I’m sorry—I went into lecture mode, didn’t I?”
    â€œNo, no, this is great. My editor wants a long feature, and I didn’t know where to start. Can I buy you a drink to thank you?”
    â€œA Diet Coke would be great.” After all, I’d been talking a long time.
    â€œYou got it.” When he returned, he bought a couple of extra-large chocolate chip cookies, too, and since it would have been churlish of me to reject his offering, I graciously accepted one.
    â€œI take it that anime conventions aren’t part of your usual beat,” I said in between bites.
    â€œMy editor doesn’t believe in beats—she thinks a reporter should be able to cover anything from a car crash to a city council meeting to a high school football game.”
    â€œWhich means she doesn’t have to hire as many reporters.”
    He nodded. “Back when I had a beat of my own, it was business. I’m a whiz at IPOs, zoning legislation, and retail strategy. Ask me anything.”
    â€œI’ll take your word for it. How did you end up at the
Gazette
?”
    â€œNewspapers aren’t exactly a growth market. I got laid off, and had to decide if I wanted to try TV, learn to blog, or go for a smaller paper. I thought I’d prefer the newspaper, but I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a general reporter. Next weekend I’m covering a kids’ soccer tournament and I know