Page 109 of The Fake Divination Offense
I clamp my fingers on Bel’s shoulder, every muscle in my body tensing.
“What?” I demand at the same time Bel gasps and mumbles, “Wh-what?”
Mom looks between us. “The cultist ritual last week. How theydaredto abduct an Urzoth worshipper. As if we would have Galaxrien’s descendant inourchurch! Which of the Urzoth demonstrations did you participate in? I couldn’t find anything online about what you two did in response to that horrific attack, and Orok claims he didn’t attend any of them. Butyouseem like the kind of person to not let an atrocious slight like this go unchallenged.”
Bel laughs nervously. “Oh. Um—Reverend Drach didn’t want us participating. He wants our relationship to help accentuate other elements of Urzoth.”
“Ah, of course! See, Dave?” Mom nudges my dad, who’s on his phone again. “This one has a smart head on his shoulders.” She flicks a knowing look at me. “UnlikeSebastian.”
I suck my teeth. “Mom, enough.”
“You’re still friends with him, aren’t you? How doesAlexofeel about that?” She swings on him again. “Have you met Sebastian?”
“I have,” Bel says, “and—”
“He’s not atallUrzoth material. He led Orok down some very unfortunate paths.”
I hold my breath. She wouldn’t bring that up. Not now, not here. Would she?
“That whole messy business with”—her voice drops to a dismayed whisper—“the lawsuit? Sebastian’s work. I want you to know it wasn’t Orok’s idea. He got swept up in Sebastian’s schemes. He’s normallysucha great Urzoth man. Strong, relentless, passionate. It’s only Sebastian’s influence that swayed him to weakness.”
“Mom,” I manage, a choked plea for her tostop.
She bats her hand. “I want Alexo to know. He’s a true embodiment of Urzoth. Well, a bit small, but that can be fixed. Surely he’s been wondering how that lawsuit fits in with our faith? I won’t have you running him off because of misperceptions. You two are doinggoodwork now, bringing light to Urzoth. Representing him. Using your platforms and fame to his glory. This is too important to let the past sully it. So, Alexo, I promise, Orok’s not really like that. Whatever you heard about the camp, he’s better than that. If Orok had been alone there, he would have excelled—”
“Mrs. Monroe,” Bel barks.
Loudly.
The whole restaurant quiets. The waiter, halfway back to our table with a tray of drinks, stops, but Bel doesn’t notice. His fingers are clawed into my leg and redness creeps up his neck, his dark eyes focused andpissed.
“Your son isincredible,” Bel says, his voice low and vehement. “He’s the first to help whenever anyone needs it. He doessomuch for so many people and never takes credit. He constantly puts himself up against impossible odds, the kind of odds that, even if he wins, he knows will be met with attitudes likeyours.”
Mom looks taken aback, realizing Bel’s upset with her. “Like mine? I don’t know what you—”
“He saved me,” Bel tells her, arching over the table. “He saves me every damn day, and I am so unbelievably lucky to have him in my life. And you’re lucky to be able to call him your son, but you’ve berated him nonstop from the moment we met. Do you realize what a gift it is to have him in your life? And you’re screwing it up by treating him like shit, and I won’t allow you to speak to him that way. I love him, and not just because he’s strong, but because he’ssoftand gentle and kind, andthatis what makes him strong. And you should love him for that, too.”
The table is silent.
The whole restaurant is silent.
Even my dad looks up from his phone.
I can’t breathe, can’t move, everything in my body slowly crystallizing.
Bel comes back to himself with a jagged gasp.
His gaze darts around, seeing everyone looking at him, and when his focus gets to me, it’s like he hears all his words in one big ricochet.
“Oh.” He smacks his hands over his mouth. “Oh my gods.Oh my gods. I said I love you. For the first time.While yelling at your parents.” He whips on my mom and dad. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. Well, I did, because you’re treating him terribly and he doesn’t deserve this, but I—oh my gods. I gotta go.”
He bolts out of the chair, weaving through tables until he vanishes down a hall at the back of the restaurant.
I launch after him.
“Orok!” Mom calls. “Wait—”
But I’m gone, zipping through the shocked tables and ducking down the hall.
