Coloring Outside the Lines

By TechRod

Jem Con 2026 Fan Fic Contest Submission

This wasn’t postcard San Diego. Two pedicabs rattled down the road pulling four big-haired women away from the bright hotels and waterfront traffic. If not for the conspicuous tourist rides and broad daylight, the passengers might have looked at home in the back streets among the city’s seams, rocking the nightlife counterculture.

The two in the lead—one with fluorescent green hair, the other a hedgehog mountain of black—were Pizzazz, frontwoman of the Misfits, and Jetta, their English saxophonist. Close behind were blue-haired keyboardist Stormer and bleached-white lead guitarist Roxy.

“Do we even have an invitation to this charity concert?” shouted Stormer.

“Jem has an invitation,” answered Pizzazz. “We have a better band.”

“And two bicycles with sofas attached,” said Jetta. “A flawless publicity campaign.”

The pedicab drivers pumped steadily over cracked pavement as Pizzazz surveyed the neighborhood like it had been arranged for her personal disappointment. Eric had told them to go this way. Pink flowers spilled across chain-link fences beside loading yards. Palm trees rose behind telephone wires and flat warehouse roofs, while scraps of color flashed from alley walls already claimed by handbills, old concert posters, and layers of painted names. What was their manager thinking? “What are we actually going to do when we get to the zoo?” asked Stormer. “Do you think we’re going to throw peanuts at monkeys?” Pizzazz called back. “We’re going to take over.”

The street was filled with flashes of beauty between grubby auto shops, smoky tobacconists, and little markets with fruit crates under striped awnings.

“Hey, stop the rickshaw!” Pizzazz shouted at the driver.

Panting, both drivers pulled over to the curb where pedestrians marveled at a wall of vivid wet colors. The canvas was an old Johnny Deacon poster, now covered in bright graffiti.

The artist herself drew equal attention, wearing a short red skirt, golden hair teased into a voluminous mane, and graphic face makeup matching the eclectic symbols on her skintight white jumpsuit. Some had thrown money at her feet; some whispered; some had complained. People were talking either way. A success! She threw a spray can into her satchel and used a cloth to wipe at the stains on her fingertips from the nozzle bleed. The work was complete. Justice had been done. Vigilante justice. Had the locals given the old poster any thought for the past few months? The concert was from last summer, practically a lifetime ago. Now a great American icon was current again. Deacon Lives!

Erasing Johnny’s handsome mug would have wasted the only useful part of the poster. She had attacked everything around him. The guitar strings had been extended into colored zigzags. The edge of the guitar had been given bold, aggressive dayglow curves. The apologetic concert date on the poster had been replaced with her signature: GRAPHIX.

“Hah! Finally, someone with actual taste!” Graphix turned and saw the voice belonged to none other than Pizzazz. THE Pizzazz! Was this some kind of divine intervention? Behind Pizzazz, climbing out of the pedicabs, were the rest of the Misfits. Their imposing figures did not disappoint in person. The artist chewed on her strawberry gum and tried to play it cool, but the squee inside was building.

“She’s defaced Johnny,” said Stormer. “It’s an improvement,” clarified Pizzazz.

“Right!” Graphix gave a coy grin, bubblegum showing between her teeth. “The guitar was doing all the work and the background was, like, totally unemployed.” The Misfits pushed through the onlookers and stood in front of her. “The Misfits!” she finally exploded. “Totally major!” She caught herself and made an effort to appear whelmed. “Established major.” Pizzazz frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “The Misfits are established,” Graphix answered with a flick of her hand. “That’s not the same as current, but it photographs almost as well.” Pizzazz turned her head toward Roxy with gritted teeth. “I admire and dislike her simultaneously.” The girl felt herself shrink for a moment. “What’s your name?” asked Pizzazz. The girl blew a bubble and let it pop, her safety mechanism. “Gwen… to my parents. Graphix is what people remember.” “Is this your turf?” asked Stormer. “Nuh-uh.” Graphix shook her mane. “I’m from the Valley,” she quickly added, “like, New York City, actually.” “I’ve heard of it,” said Roxy, straight-faced.

“Okay, Graphix,” said Pizzazz, “how would you like to work for the Misfits?” She began chewing furiously. “Doin’ what?” “Making sure everybody in San Diego knows we’re here.” Graphix looked at the pedicabs. “Do you have a wall, a bus, or a whole building?” Pizzazz’s eyes seemed to flash. “The whooooole city.”

“Okay…” Graphix replied, blowing a bubble and letting it pop. “That is almost a real brief.” She grabbed her red satchel with its supplies but didn’t like the way the pedicab drivers were eyeballing her. “Your ride needs a logo,” said Graphix. She redecorated the license plate of the nearest cab. “Moving surfaces are better.” She marked it with a pair of green Zs. “You really need to up the Zs in Pizzazz.” “Hey!” shouted the driver from the other pedicab. “Relax,” said Graphix. “It has identity now.”

“She’s right,” said Pizzazz, winking. “Now you can tell the tourists this was my ride.” She slapped Graphix on the shoulder. “Get in. You can sit with me.” Jetta looked around. “Where am I supposed to go?” Pizzazz gave a nod over her shoulder. Immediately, Stormer and Roxy leapt into the second pedicab. Jetta walked over to the two women and the driver gave a sigh of pre-exhaustion. Roxy didn’t budge or make eye contact. Jetta placed her hands on her hips. “What a warm welcome…” Stormer wilted. “We can squeeze you in.” She tried to shift over. Jetta climbed up between them, wedging herself in like a doorstop with elbows. Graphix looked back at the driver laboring at the pedals to pull the three women. Then she turned back to Pizzazz, who watched the people on the streets around them confidently. Graphix found herself smiling too.

THE Misfits!

How could her day get any better?

By midmorning, the San Diego Zoo was alive with families, birdsong, and the murmur of crowds moving beneath the palms and eucalyptus trees. Jem and the Holograms were gathered beside the children’s activity station by the elephant enclosure. Visitors gathered to photograph the colorful celebrities with one of the zoo’s star elephants. “Thank you again for agreeing to tonight’s charity concert,” said Ms. Bruce, the zoo director. “This fundraiser supports continued animal care, behavioral enrichment, and improvements to the habitats.” She smiled. “It also helps with our public engagement, especially the kids.”

“We’re glad we can help,” said Jem. “Besides, we love animals, right, Raya?” Atop the adult African elephant next to her sat the pink-haired Raya. She was brimming with excitement as she enjoyed a ride during the zoo’s daily elephant walk.

“There’s plenty of room up here… plenty of room up here,” she said, patting the elephant’s shoulder, “if you want to join me!” The keeper gestured to the children who were awed by the band and the elephant. “The kids can paint their faces to be just like the Holograms.” He turned to the parents at the makeup station. “The paint is zoo-approved, non-toxic, and washable. Just make sure the lids stay on when they aren’t being used.” Shana placed her palm gently on the elephant’s tough, hot skin. “What’s his name?”

“This is Inhlonipho,” said the keeper. “His name means ‘courteous’ in Siswati.”

In response to his name, Inhlonipho raised his trunk in the air and trumpeted.

“See?” laughed Aja. “He’s saluting!”

Raya’s smile faded when she saw some unwelcome visitors approach. “He has better manners than some people we know!”

“Hold it!” shouted Pizzazz. “Don’t print the program yet!” The Misfits, with Graphix close behind, stalked up to the director.

“Jem and the Holograms aren’t the only act in town,” said Pizzazz as she thumbed her chest. “If you really want a big draw, then the Misfits are your headliner!”

Jem shook her head in disgust. “The show already has a headline act!”

“Hah!” Pizzazz gave a mean grin. “We can do spectacle on a whole other level.”

Ignoring Jem, Pizzazz returned her attention to the director. “Are you really going to settle for second best?” Aja stepped between Pizzazz and Ms. Bruce. “Since when did the Misfits take an interest in animal causes?”

“I like animals,” said Stormer sincerely. Graphix had not been fully paying attention. She had been struck dumb by the sight before her and it wasn’t the elephant. Straight off of Lin-Z TV, straight out of the magazines and off the billboards, Jem in the flesh! Two photographers were facing Jem. A third was backing up to get the singer and elephant in frame. Nobody was photographing Pizzazz…

“Jem and the actual Holograms!” she shouted. “You’re, like, everywhere!”

“Who’s your new friend?” Kimber asked Stormer. “This… is Graphix,” said Pizzazz with relish, as if she was showing off a newly polished blade, “She knows how to get the word out all over the street, literally!”

“The concert schedule is already arranged,” said Ms. Bruce.

“Then rearrange it! “We do have a public-awareness event at Mission Beach at noon,” the director replied. “If the Misfits sincerely wish to help, you may participate.”

Pizzazz nodded, satisfied. “And when we draw the bigger crowd, we headline tonight.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It will be.” Pizzazz grinned.

Graphix stared at the enormous gray elephant behind the colorful musicians. It was the perfect frame to make Jem pop. However, gray was not a finish. The scene was crying out for completion. She blew a bubble and let it pop while she thought. The makeup table had a tub of pink paint! The problem had practically solved itself. With one hand she grabbed a container of paint and with the other she gathered a bunch of brushes into her fist.

“Pink moves against gray,” she muttered. “Oh no! Graphix, don’t tag that!” shouted Stormer.

It was, of course, too late to stop. The name Jem only had three letters, which she tagged across the mighty beast’s side.

“I was going to ignore the elephant in the room!” she said, brandishing the dripping brushes like one combined giant brush. Graphix stepped back and gave Inhlonipho a pat on his flank, which made him turn toward the gathered crowd. Some cheered; some were distressed; others snapped photos. It was a reaction!

Ms. Bruce turned to Graphix. “The elephant is not a billboard!”

“Not a billboard billboard,” she groaned. “More like… moving environmental media.”

Kimber folded her arms unhappily. “It only says Jem. What about the Holograms?”

Jem, Aja, Shana, and Raya replied in unison: “Kimber!”

“Jem is the part people can read while he’s moving,” said Graphix with a sigh, realizing she had to explain it.

“Why, that little egg benedict!” said Roxy. “She’s promoting Jem!”

Graphix was momentarily taken aback. “That is so typical. You wanted attention. Well? Everybody’s looking.”

Two assistant keepers ran over with mops and buckets of water.

“Come on!” said Pizzazz. “We’ve got promoting to do!” As the Misfits turned on their heels, the Holograms volunteered to take mops. The keeper had Inhlonipho kneel so Raya could slide down.

“I can’t believe someone would treat an animal as advertising!” groaned Jem. “Well, it’s not quite a pink elephant,” said Kimber. The girls laughed as they dipped mops in the buckets and took turns cleaning their new friend. “Leave the J!” shouted Graphix, being dragged against her will by Roxy and Pizzazz. “That’s the part that moves!!!”

Nearby, at the exotic bird enclosure, three figures watched discreetly, dressed as they were in bright yellow, like human birds of paradise. “I thought we were going to the beach,” said the woman with the broad-brimmed hat. “Because, Minx, Jem is here,” replied the man beside her with the mostly unbuttoned shirt. “And where Jem chooses to be is the only place worth being.” The second woman with the sculpted mullet wore a crooked smile. “Geography has never been one of Riot’s stronger emotions.”

Riot panned the crowd through a pair of tourist binoculars. “Someone has written Jem’s name on an elephant. A scheme worthy of yourself, Rapture.”

“Not my style,” she said, searching with her binoculars. “Wait! The woman with the paint is being dragged away by the Misfits.”

Minx plucked the binoculars from Rapture and peered through them.

“I haven’t seen her before.”

Riot lowered his binoculars. The pink “JEM” was legible from halfway across the zoo. The visitors snapped photos as Jem and the Holograms began scrubbing the elephant. “Simple, but brilliant. The paint washes off. The photographs don’t. A temporary image, but with permanent publicity.”

Riot turned and headed toward the zoo entrance.

“I must meet her.”

Mission Beach Boardwalk shimmered beside the Pacific, crowded with cyclists, roller-skaters in short shorts, beachgoers, and fluttering banners. Nestled among vendor kiosks was a temporary gazebo for the San Diego Zoo’s public outreach. Television cameras had drawn a crowd. Connie Long, a well-known face of California Beat, addressed the anchors at the Channel 82 studio, while the Misfits were framed behind her.

“The San Diego Zoo is raising awareness for tonight’s charity concert. However, Jem and the Holograms have been delayed after helping zoo staff remove graffiti from one of the elephants! Meanwhile, there are a lot of dangerous animals on the boardwalk this morning,” said Connie, leading the camera past two zookeepers with ambassador animals—a red-tailed hawk and a python—until she stopped at the Misfits.

“The Misfits are taking part in the zoo concert promotion—apparently with the same artist responsible for the elephant incident.”

Pizzazz leaned into Connie, crowding the camera frame. “Responsible for making everybody look!”

Pizzazz pulled the camera toward Graphix and the blank board she was supposed to decorate for the zoo. “Well? Make us look incredible.”

Graphix shook her rattle can and several seagulls took to the air. She gave a nervous glance at the crowd and then at the camera pointed her way. How could she explain that a blank board, like blank walls and canvases, wasn’t her thing? There was nothing to bounce off. No buzz of breaking the rules. What was the point of inventing something nobody cared about yet? She wanted something people already looked at.

“The zoo provided the panel specifically for you,” said Connie, “but it’s empty.”

“Exactly,” said Graphix. “Nobody cares about it yet.”

A nearby display caught her eye. She felt a spark in her fingers in response to the huge Jem poster advertising the concert. It was bright and colorful, and… it had negative space!

“Other artists start with nothing,” she explained, leading Connie to the poster. “I start with something people already actually care about.”

She sprayed a bright green triangle around the face of Jem. The Misfits gave a cheer, as though they expected her to deface it. She blew a bubble as big as she could, let it pop, and got to work. A few colors and thick, bold outlines later, Jem’s name had disappeared completely.

“I mean, it’s better than saying Jem,” admitted Pizzazz.

Graphix frowned and then realized her mistake but casually played it off.

“You’re all girls. Like, duh.”

The big bold name read: “MISS-FITS.”

“That is not how the word is spelled,” said Jetta.

“No… it’s gender-specific,” replied Graphix, stepping back so the crowd could judge if she was right.

Pizzazz cracked a smile. “Where were you at our naming committee?”

“Like, junior high. Probably.”

“So, you’re painting over Jem’s poster instead?” asked Connie.

“I’m not erasing Jem. I’m… redirecting the traffic. It’s a public intervention in private boredom.” That sounded convincing, even to her. She turned to the crowd. “Look, they’re all pointing.”

The Misfits joined Graphix and began tagging their names in matching hair colors. Graphix moved down the line, inspecting their elementary efforts.

“Stormer, yours is too polite.”

“It’s readable.” Stormer shrugged.

“Exactly.” Jetta suddenly swiped her black scrawl across Roxy’s carefully written name.

“Improved,” said Jetta with an evil grin.

Roxy raised a fist. “Why, I oughta rip—”

“—Okay, that conflict works,” Graphix interrupted. “Leave that part.”

Connie waved the cameraman closer. “What would you call this style?”

“Mine’s pop-art deco,” said Graphix before squinting at the work of her disciples. “The Misfits are more… postmodern primitive.”

Pizzazz looked up. “What d’ya mean, primitive?” She had just finished painting her neon green name with exaggerated giant Zs.

“Primitive is extremely current,” said Graphix.

Pizzazz looked back at her work with pride. “Then that’s us!”

“Where did you get all those great designs from?” asked Stormer, pointing at the shapes that decorated Graphix’s jumpsuit. “Are you allergic to tattoos?”

Graphix’s outfit was littered with clusters of checkers, stripes and zigzags in primary colors. She shrugged. “See, my mom goes: Hollywood doesn’t like tattoos; and my dad goes: draw on your clothes, not mine!”

Stormer seemed to understand, though the side-eye was confusing.

Roxy appeared to sulk away after the graffiti work, like she had been upset somehow. She took an interest in the python and then posed for the cameras as close to it as she dared.

“Careful, Roxy,” said Stormer.

“That’s nothing,” said Jetta. “You know, my Auntie Cecilia kept a snake bigger than that in the reptile house on her country estate.”

“That so?” asked Roxy. “Then you oughta know how to wear one.”

“Not a bad idea,” agreed Pizzazz. “We could get into more than just B-roll TV footage.” “You’re up,” said Roxy, smiling.

Jetta took a step back. “I wouldn’t want to muss up my hair, duckie.”

“Leave the snake alone,” Graphix called across to them. “Its pattern already works.”

Pizzazz and Roxy shared a bewildered look, but excited voices rose from the crowd and quickly grabbed their attention.

“I smell peroxide,” said Jetta dryly.

Connie Long abandoned the Misfits. “And now the Stingers have arrived at Mission Beach!” she announced. “What a coup for the zoo!”

Graphix watched as the crowd’s attention shifted in a single visible movement. One video camera turned. Then the second. But the only person the Stingers were looking at was… her!

“Riot!” shouted Pizzazz, her voice lighter and more feminine. “I didn’t expect—I mean, were you looking for me?”

“My dear Pizzazz,” he replied smoothly and patiently, “I hoped I would find you here. Would you do something for me? Would you introduce me to your friend?”

Pizzazz looked schoolgirl-giddy, but Riot’s eyes turned slowly back to Graphix.

“I don’t believe we have met.”

Pizzazz followed his gaze. “Oh… this is Graphix. Graphix, Riot.”

Graphix felt her cheeks flush red as her skirt. She sucked in her already flat stomach and arched her back. She needed to get rid of her gum. Minx and Rapture came up beside her, and each took her by an arm, taking her to their leader.

“Tubular!” she said, wide-eyed. “You guys are the hottest, most current band in the whole music scene right now. You’re so major! Like, the Stingers are what everybody else is going to copy badly next week.” Riot gave a smoldering cover model laugh. Graphix almost swallowed her gum.

“An unusually accurate assessment,” he told her softly. “You transformed an elephant into a moving advertisement.” He glanced at the redecorated concert poster. “And you’ve brought Jem’s poster to life. Well… your parts of the poster.”

“It needed another layer.”

Riot nodded. “I admire artistic audacity. The Misfits have given you a wall. But artistic genius deserves a stage. A stage no camera in San Diego will be able to ignore.”

His voice was somewhere between a whisper and a groan. Riot offered his hand, upturned like an invitation to dance.

She glanced back at the Misfits’ painted display. Their squiggles were infantile, but they had been fun. Five minutes earlier, the whole thing had stopped the boardwalk. Graphix placed her hand in Riot’s as if he were about to kiss it.

“Hey! You’re with us! We found you!” shouted Roxy.

Riot spoke calmly. “Graphix is a free woman and is no one’s to keep.”

“I didn’t say we owned her,” Roxy hit back. “I said you don’t get to stroll in and take her.”

Stormer turned to Graphix. “Riot doesn’t want you beside him. I think he wants what you can put behind him. That’s all.”

Graphix sighed. “I mean, that’s actually the point, right? The difference with the Misfits is that behind Riot is where all the cameras point.”

“That doesn’t mean they’ll be looking at you, love,” said Jetta.

“They will when they see what I put there!”

Roxy scoffed. “The Stingers are all style and no substance.”

“Right,” agreed Graphix. “And style is the part everybody sees.”

Roxy searched the crowd. “Pizzazz! Are you gonna let Riot simply stroll in and take our artist?”

“Hmmm?” Pizzazz stirred at her name. She was standing quietly behind Riot, where he had left her.

Riot seemed to remember Pizzazz and became attentive once again. He gathered her hands to his chest. “Pizzazz, my dear, surely you wouldn’t deny the Stingers the benefit of Graphix’s talent?”

Pizzazz beamed deliriously. “Oh, you can have anything you want!”

The three Misfits stared at their leader. Stormer closed her eyes and sighed. Roxy threw both hands in the air. Jetta gave a small, unsurprised nod. Sure, the Misfits had found her, but Riot had chosen her. And Pizzazz seemed perfectly happy.

Graphix had just been promoted!

The artist stepped under Riot’s wing just as Connie Long’s cameraman moved in for a closer shot. They smiled into the lens. She glanced pityingly back at the Misfits. She had always believed in two things: sarcasm and brutal honesty.

“I mean, it’s true, you were the biggest thing on the street,” Graphix told the three Misfits.

“Were?” said Roxy, now truly angry.

“And now?” asked Stormer.

“We’re not on the street,” she replied.

Beneath the blazing afternoon sun, the open-air walkways of Fashion Valley Mall spread like a city within a city—filled with stylish red tiles, pale stucco walls, ever-flowing fountains, and meticulously dressed shop windows. Shoppers drifted between imposing department stores in bright summer fashions. The smell of perfumes and the sound of New Wave music floated through the air.

Graphix had never seen a mall with such scale and color. The clothing boutiques fought jealously for attention, their polished displays battling to make shoppers stop. It was like a painted alley, only this was bright and glossy!

Riot had given her one instruction. “Make my image impossible to ignore.”

“It already is,” she replied. “It, like… just needs distribution.”

“Excellent.” He smiled gently. “I want the entire space transformed before Jem arrives.”

She soaked up the stimulation of all the branding, mannequins, mirrors, and carefully displayed merchandise. She didn’t have to face the emptiness of a blank canvas. Riot understood the value of surfaces more completely than anyone she had met that day. While Pizzazz had offered her the city, Riot had placed her inside a mall where attention was concentrated, and signage begged for improvement.

Southern California’s KJEM radio station was already on the scene with a broadcasting booth near the food court. Graphix only caught parts of the interview while she worked.

“We are lending our brilliance to Jem’s noble cause,” Riot explained.

DJ Mando tipped down his characteristic sunglasses. “That so? How long have you been working with the San Diego Zoo?”

Riot paused at the question.

“The Stingers do not measure compassion by calendars.”

“So, this is your first day?” Riot smiled. “This is the first day the cause has had the Stingers.”

Graphix was awed by Riot’s confidence and charm. He belonged naturally among the dazzling lights and reflective surfaces. He approached her and handed her a card with the band logo.

“Tell me, Graphix, what can you do with our style?”

She studied it and then looked him up and down.

“Like, a lot! Your yellow coat actually gives total cubist expressionism karma—you know, angles with feelings? Actually, it’s like every angle and line in the mall ends in an arrow pointing toward you.”

Wait, did that make sense? She cringed at her stream of consciousness. To her surprise, he took off his coat and placed it around her, waving a cameraman over to snap a photo of them together.

“Can you believe what she is actually wearing?!” mocked Rapture, loud enough for Graphix to hear.

Minx tried to stifle her laughter at the oversized coat. “Is that your new look?”

Graphix removed the coat calmly. “No. That color is finished.”

Minx and Rapture exchanged looks, both dressed in a matching shade.

“It was current when we put it on,” said Rapture.

Graphix nodded. “That was several minutes ago.”

Minx sneered. “Remind me why I am putting up with her?”

Riot, recovering his coat, gave a sweeping wave toward their audience. “Because the crowd has doubled.”

The crowd had doubled, split between ogling the Stingers and watching Graphix’s improvised tagging session in the central court. The smell of aerosol spray filled the air as she painted the words “San Diego Jungle,” “Human Zoo,” “Stingers,” and “GRAPHIX” amid confetti-like geometric shapes and squiggles. On Jem’s concert poster, she added an enormous geometric silhouette of Riot. Bright angular lines exploded out from his coat. Above Jem’s image, Graphix plastered her stylized reimagining of the Stingers’ name and a cartoon wasp.

Shoppers began talking and snapping photos of the evolving display. A family backed away from the donation table so they could take in the full view.

“You have understood my vision,” said Riot, placing his hand on her shoulder.

Graphix glanced at his heavy hand and then looked back at the crowd. Emboldened, she added another coat of paint to her signature. If beauty was only skin-deep, she would need more than one layer. She finished her name with a bold black outline.

Minx surveyed the display. “Graffitiing the mall does not make it art.”

Graphix smiled at the naïve German, who had probably never read a book on art history in her life.

“Leonardo painted on a dining-room wall and everybody called it art.”

Minx’s jaw dropped. “He was commissioned.”

“Eventually.”

Minx hopped with frustration. “Before he began!”

“That sounds extremely limiting,” droned Graphix. She narrowed her eyes, already searching for her next surface, but mall security finally surrounded her. They confiscated her spray cans while she held her hands up out of habit.

“This is so typical of the law!” “I think you crossed a line,” said Rapture smugly.

“How? Public intervention in private boredom?! Look, they’re all pointing.”

Before security could escort Graphix off the premises, DJ Mando pounced on the drama, microphone ready. Her name was now splattered all over the mall next to the Stingers’.

“The public is asking: Who is Graphix?”

“Me!” Graphix pulled free of the security guards and joined Mando beside a tagged jewelry-store window. “That part is mine…” She nodded. “The rest is promotion.”

Riot intervened, his face lit by a smile with an edge of danger. “Graphix is helping realize the Stingers’ vision.”

Graphix beamed with pride at Riot’s endorsement of her over the radio. Even if she got a fine, this had been worth it!

“Jem, at last!” shouted Riot, snapping Graphix out of her fantasies.

Riot parted the crowd to reclaim center stage beside the newly arriving headliners.

“The Stingers?” asked Jem, puzzled. “AND the Misfits?” She looked like she wanted to place her palm on her face but was afraid to smudge her makeup.

“I am here to support your charity concert,” he said smoothly and deliberately. Jem looked through the crowd at the graffitied walls, posters, and tagged windows.

“Riot, did you do all this?” she asked.

“I inspired it.”

Security caught hold of Graphix again, but she waved proudly. “I did it!”

Jem saw Graphix and nodded very slowly.

Graphix smiled and gave a sigh of relief. The Misfits had only given her a wall. Riot had given her a mall and the attention of Jem herself. Sure, the Stingers were current, but Jem had real heat. Graphix was ready to accept Jem’s invitation the moment she received it. Any time now…

Night had settled over Wegeforth Bowl outside the San Diego Zoo. Thousands filled the amphitheater seats and spilled into the surrounding park. The stage was framed by prop palms and eucalyptus trees, while colored spotlights danced in anticipation. Backstage, Riot, Rapture and Minx stood in the wings.

“Will Jem be able to see me?”

“Everybody will,” Graphix reassured him.

The production manager killed the lights and an excited roar from the crowd went up. The Stingers walked out into the swirling mists of the smoke machines. The backdrop mural Graphix had been furiously working on was quietly unfurled, hidden by the darkness.

Graphix called across to the production manager at the controls. “Can you make the smoke more high-definition?”

The man frowned back. “Smoke doesn’t have definition.”

Graphix nodded in agreement. “Exactly. It needs more.”

The lights flicked on, and the smoke shifted through waves of color. Riot, facing the audience, batted away enough of the cloud to establish his charismatic spell. The Stingers broke into “It’s a Hard, Hard Life.”

As the smoke thinned, the mural emerged high above the stage. It featured an angular portrait of Riot, surrounded by triangles and waves, with the Stingers’ logo directly above. However, the real focus of the mural, stretching from one side of the backdrop to the other and crushing down upon the Stingers’ name, was a gigantic, triple-bolded signature.

Cameras flashed toward the backdrop instead of the band. Riot turned mid-verse and stared at the back wall. The chunky angular “GRAPHIX” loomed over them, rippling in the night breeze like an urban sail.

He missed his next cue.

He fell out of synch and skipped a line.

His tone faltered.

Graphix smiled proudly in the wings as she peered out at the sea of witnesses. For one second, everybody looked in the same direction. They saw her work! She wasn’t just fighting in the streets of New York City to get seen anymore! Graphix was going worldwide! A tear formed in her eye. For a moment, she dropped her attitude and felt truly happy.

However, the first song ended abruptly. Riot exited the stage, followed quickly by Minx and Rapture. Graphix shrank back as she sensed intensely negative karma. A commotion from the audience grew as the crowd called after the Stingers.

“The reveal worked!” She searched their faces, trying to work out what she had missed.

“Your name is four times larger than ours,” he told her bluntly.

She frowned and glanced from Riot to Minx, then to Rapture, and back to Riot again. How could they be serious? The Stingers already had recognition. Riot had more recognition than any one person reasonably needed. GRAPHIX was the part the crowd had not seen before. Obviously, that was the part that required scale.

“Everybody already knows the Stingers,” she tried to explain. Her voice dropped. “My name was the new part.”

Riot glanced over at Jem and the Holograms, who were approaching the scene, worriedly.

“You were commissioned to create the Stingers’ backdrop,” he insisted.

“I did.” She nodded. “You’re all over it.”

He kept his voice controlled. “You plastered your name above my image.”

“That’s how people know who made the image. You told me to make your image impossible to ignore.”

Riot nodded at her logic. “And instead you made yourself impossible to ignore.”

Graphix now felt annoyed.

“Same picture.”

Riot glanced at Jem, who was in earshot.

“How do I explain this in words you understand? A frame that competes with the portrait has ceased to serve its purpose.”

Graphix’s eyes lit up in understanding, and then she tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him.

“So… then, the portrait needed a better frame.”

Riot’s frown disappeared. “You are talented, Graphix. But your talent no longer serves my image. You may go.”

He turned his back on her. Minx and Rapture fell in beside him.

“I told you she didn’t understand limits,” muttered Rapture.

Graphix stood behind them, suddenly cut out of the group. Her mural still filled the stage. Her name still hung above it. But Riot had spoken as though he could keep the image and crop out its creator.

Graphix huffed. “That is so typical for Riot.”

Minx glanced over her shoulder. “Really? And how long have you known him?” “A whole half-day!”

The Holograms stepped forward, and Minx backed off. Riot clearly did not want to speak to Graphix any longer, nor did he seem to want to face Jem. The Stingers began discussing their future appearance schedule as he led his bandmates away.

“He liked your work until it drew attention away from him,” said Shana. “Trust me, I know the type.”

“Totally typical, right?”

Shana smiled and nodded. “Right.”

Jeers rolled in from beyond the stage. Jem placed a hand on Graphix’s shoulder.

“We can’t talk now, but you’re a great artist.” Jem offered a quick smile that seemed to shimmer.

“We’re not ready to go on yet, Jem,” said Kimber.

“That’s right, we were expecting a short set from the Stingers,” said Jem.

The women hurried to speak to management. Graphix followed along behind Jem until they reached the Misfits, who were sitting dejectedly among the band equipment. Jem glanced between Pizzazz and Graphix and then stopped.

“The Stingers just walked off,” Jem told them. “We’ve got an audience waiting and a stage doing nothing.”

Pizzazz gave Jem a long silent stare. “Wait… Go out there… in front of the Stingers’ backdrop without a gimmick? When you ballerinas follow with your set, we’ll look like a bunch of noodles dragged in at the last minute to fill time.”

Kimber laughed, and Aja elbowed her.

Jem shrugged at Pizzazz. “The spot is yours if you’re creative enough to take it. Or are you afraid of the crowd?”

Pizzazz didn’t seem ready to answer. Her eyes narrowed as though she recognized the bait. Jem led the Holograms away to prepare for their act. Pizzazz watched them disappear before locking eyes with Graphix.

“Well, look who it is!”

“Miss Rattlecan herself,” added Roxy.

Graphix took in the sorry sight in front of her. The Misfits were slumped among the storage crates, looking as flat and faded as the Johnny Deacon poster.

“You look completely unfinished,” Graphix said, entirely sincere. Her Valley girl tone was less convincing.

“We look fabulous!” Pizzazz shot back angrily.

Graphix nodded. “Fabulous is not a plan. I have something left over in my satchel that might be the gimmick you need.”

Jetta scowled. “You dumped us the second Riot crooked his finger.”

“He was a bigger name. Are you going to sue me?”

Pizzazz uncrossed her arms, possibly considering the idea. Her stony face broke into a wild grin.

“Okay. So, make us BIGGER.”

Graphix’s frown disappeared.

“Now that is a real brief!”

Two minutes later, the Misfits ran onto the darkened stage to angry shouts from the crowd. Pizzazz counted them in. “One—two—three…”

At Pizzazz’s first chord of “Listen Up,” Graphix signaled the production manager to switch on the unused ultraviolet light. The Misfits’ costumes suddenly blazed with glowing zigzags, like divine energy tearing out of their bodies. A cheer filled the arena. Graphix ran behind the band, shook her rattle can, and coaxed the last of the fluorescent paint onto the Stingers’ backdrop.

As Pizzazz sang the line “There’s a brand new girl in the neighborhood!” Graphix completed her modification. She turned and waved out at the crowd while the speakers blared. Behind her, layered on top of the Stingers’ art and glowing like the sun, was the name:

“MISSFITS.”