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I have to give Beck props. Or I would if I wasn’t so distracted by the news about Wes leaving.How did that happen? Did he get somethingelse?
“You will not go to performing arts school while you’re under this roof,” my fathersays.
“Then I’llleave.”
“Terry.” This is from my mother. “You will not send our sonaway.”
My father curses under his breath. “They get this from you,” he mutters, stabbing a finger at my mom. He shoves up from his chair and leaves the dinnertable.
Beck turns on his heel and stalks toward his room. I hear his doorslam.
Even though I’m itching to go after Beck and find out what he knows, I stay where I am. I lift the napkin from my lap, fold it on thetable.
My mother twirls the stem of her wine glass, staring pastme.
I get up, lifting my plate, and pause to kiss my mom on the head as I take it to thekitchen.
Then I start toward Beck’s room but the light from my father’s office catches myeye.
I change directions, goingthere.
“Did you send Wes away?” I ask when I pull up in thedoorway.
My father pauses before looking up from his computer, his expression more tired than defensive. “He wasn’t meant for thisplace.”
“Who says you get todecide?”
“I’m the chair of theboard.”
“And if Wes was doing anything other than a great job with those students, it would be within your rights to fire him. But he wasn’t. I know because it’s impossible for Wes to be anything but good at what he does.” My fists clench at my sides. “He didn’t get the job inSeattle.”
I walk out the door without waiting for hisreaction.
29
Wes
“This only worksif you do, Wesley. If you’re not even trying, let’s change itup.”
Jakes calls out another number, and I throw my weight behind thepunches.
My phone rings on the bench next to where we’re sparring. I glance at thenumber.
Jake jerks off a mitt and answers. “Dr. Wesley Robinson, shell of his formerself.”
I glare at him as I work off my gloves, then I hold out my hand. “Beck. This a question about preparing for your final exam?” I slump against the wall, wiping at sweat on myforehead.
“I heard you’re leaving nextsemester.”
He cuts right to thepoint.
“I’m pursuing my academic career,Beck.”
“That’s a load of bullshit. And before you tell me it’s none of my business, do you give your cell phone number to all your students? Or just the ones whose sisters you’redating?”
I curse. In the four weeks since I lost the UW interview, I’ve tried to not think about Rena. Or anything,actually.
“I don’t know what your deal is, but you guys should figure it out. She’s upset, and I’m pretty sure it’s your fault. I see her once a week at dinner, and she looks like a ghost. Of course, she’d never say anything. But that’s why I’m telling you.” My heart constricts because I fucking hate the sound of that. “I also wanted to let you know that I got into the summer acting intensive I auditionedfor.”
