Chapter 7: Table Ten

The Lumen gala was held in a ballroom with two hundred chairs and a chandelier that took up half the ceiling.

Table nine held me, Beck, my roommate, our lead actress, and the old assistant in a tuxedo that fit him perfectly.

She had never been to anything like it, and she ate three rolls before the soup.

Beck had put on a dark suit.

I tried not to look, and then I looked, and he caught me at it.

"I clean up," he said.

"You look nice."

"Eat a roll, Lenox. Your hands are shaking."

They were.

Table ten sat close enough that I could have passed the salt.

My father was there in a perfect tux, my mother beside him in dark blue.

Roman, Griffin, Coralie in white, Landon at her elbow with a ring catching the light every time she lifted her glass.

My mother didn't look at me.

My father did.

He came over between the salad and the main course, smiling for the whole room.

"Adaline," he said, and kissed the top of my head before I could stop him. "We're so proud. Everyone says so."

"Dad."

"Come back to us when you're ready. There's a place for you at the studio," he said.

"I have a place."

His fingers pressed once into my shoulder, hard enough that nobody would see it.

"You've had a difficult year, sweetheart," he said, a little louder, for the table behind him. "We understand."

He went back to his seat.

I looked at my plate, and Beck's hand came to rest on the cloth an inch from mine, not touching.

"Say the word," he said, "and I'll push him into the soup."

"I'll let you know."

The lights dimmed after dessert.

The head of drama went up to the stage in a black suit.

She cracked one almond into her palm and said a few sentences about the summer.

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