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“That sounds like cheating.”
“It’s totally cheating. And everybody knows you’re cheating because they just watched it happen. And they’re judging you. And that makes it all even harder.”
“Vicious cycle,” I said, like Been there.
“Exactly. But I have another trick.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t blink.”
I blinked.
“That’s the trick,” Jack said. “Just don’t blink.”
“You mean just hold your eyelids open in a stare?”
“Be subtle about it—but, yeah. If your eyes start to dry out, they’ll water. Then, presto. Tears.”
“How do you do that without looking weird?”
“How do you do anything without looking weird?”
“Wait,” I said. “Tell me you did not do that for The Destroyers.”
Jack clamped his mouth shut.
I leaned closer. “Tell me that when The Destroyer is weeping for an entire lost universe and it’s one of the most moving moments in the history of cinema that he did not just have… dry eyeballs.”
“No comment.”
“Oh my God! You’re a monster!”
“You asked,” Jack said.
I stared at him.
Then he squinted at me. “You know I’m not really The Destroyer, right?”
“Of course.” Mostly.
“That was a movie.”
“I know that.”
“I was paid to act in it. It wasn’t real.”
But I was still processing. “Should I be mad at you right now?”
But Jack was moving on. “No,” he said, rotating toward me on the log. “You should be admiring me.” He swung his leg over the tree trunk, so he was astride it, swatting at my knee for me to do the same, until we were facing each other, knees touching. “Okay,” he said, leaning in. “First one to cry wins.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m teaching you how to cry.”
“I don’t need help with that.”
“How to fake cry. It comes in surprisingly handy. Just think of it as a staring contest.”
