“Beckett Wise. I was talking to your mom just now. She says you were gone all summer, pretending to be a beehive. I always knew you were crazy. But this banquet is a cool idea. Plus, Melissa’s a total babe. So you’ve got good taste, I’ll grant you that.”
Beck scanned the hall for his mother. He had to stop her from blabbing about him to everyone she met. But he couldn’t find her, and the sound of the kitchen gong, a resonant metal triangle, rang out. The hall filled with the scraping of chairs and the bustle of people lining up.
“Finally,” said Steve, and he jostled Beck to join the hungry press of people.
Melissa’s carrot pumpkin soup gave off an irresistible spicy, comforting aroma. Beck let the queue propel him forward while Steve chattered in his ear about his prowess at hockey, h
