I calculate the shift in my attention and nod briefly. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Denvors.”
“What classes do you share with Alexander if you are focusing on your electives?”
Keeping Lex’s father in the corner of my vision to gauge his reaction, I say, “Theater.”
“I’ve heard Alexander is the lead in this year’s play.” Mr. Hawthorn steps in, an edge in his gaze as he surveys me.
Lex winces, sawing his meat with the side of his fork.
His father is paying for him to go to a college and take a major that he doesn’t even approve of?
“That’s right,” I offer, cautious. “We’re the leads.”
“Hm.” There’s something unfriendly in the hum. “So you’ve either talent past academics or the renowned art school is worth less than it claims.”
Lex drops his fork with a clatter and glares. “I’m used to hearing those kinds of words, Father, but I hardly think it’s appropriate for you to put down a practical stranger’s passions, especially when you understandnothingabout them.”
Seething, Lex forces himself to take a breath. His hand shakes.
“Watch your tongue, Alexander.”
“I won’t,” Lex spits. “Not unless you watch yours. Apologize.”
Father and son stare at each other for a long moment that stretches on into an eternity. I can’t breathe. Both Ms. Denvors’s and my gaze cling to the men at the table, then her brows lower, and her lips part. “Mr. Hawthorn, a valid point has been made. Have consideration on the children that aren’t yours. You may have come off much too harsh.”
Lex’s father draws his gaze away to meet Ms. Denvors’s for an instant, then he lifts his chin, casting a glance my way. “I apologize.”
My head shakes, and I manage, “It’s all right.”
“So,” Mr. Hawthorn begins again, “you’re talented.”
It feels horribly weird to deny it after all that, so I try to think of something appropriate to say in response now. Lex beats me to it. “Yes, she is.”
“What leads you to that conclusion?” Mr. Hawthorn is addressing his son now.
Lex laughs; the sound bitter. “I hardly think you’d understand even if I tried to explain.”
The man’s gaze shifts to me, somewhat antagonized and dull. “Do you have more patience with me than my son?”
More patience? To…explain whyIam talented? Taking a breath, I clear my throat. “I can’t really explain it about myself. Talent isn’t something we easily perceive in ourselves, and most often those who do with any substantial pride lack it entirely.”
“A philosophical point.” He serves himself another slab of meat. Clearly this conversation is not weighing at all on his appetite, even though I haven’t even managed to take a bite. “I’ve never been able to ask this question of someone who mightunderstand.” Spite. It’s cold. “Do you believe Lex is talented, andwhat leads you to your conclusion?”
My lips part, and a laugh escapes me. What makesLextalented? How can I even begin to explainthat? Letting out a breath, I close my eyes and try to picture it, them, the words. The words that might even come close to doing Lex justice. “Yes, Lex is talented. He has the kind of talent that looks effortless, even if I know hours upon hours have gone into creating the power he holds. He’s a thousand people living a thousand lives.” My eyes open, but I don’t look at anyone in particular. I just feel Lex’s presence through the touch of our hands. “He’s capable of anything.”
“Capability doesn’t translate into use unless it’s practiced with consistent intent.”
I fix Mr. Hawthorn with a cold look. “What a pity for you to believe people must beusefulto have worth. And what a shame you can’t see what Lex practices with intent.”
It’s my turn to hold that man’s gaze for longer than I would like. Flinching away feels like failing Lex, so even when my stomach swirls and the delectable scents of the food make me feel nauseous, I don’t dare tear my gaze off him.
“Demystify it for me,” Mr. Hawthorn murmurs. “What have I missed?”
“Belief.”
Confusion muddles the man’s brows, and it is perhaps the most human expression I’ve seen on him since we met. “Belief?” he questions.
“The suspension of belief. It’s a skill Lex has honed. He can make you believe he’s absolutely anyone in an instant. But that’s not all. The power he wields over belief is rooted in his understanding of life and the world around him.” Like with me. Like with my mom. Like with Agatha and Jason and Rebecca. Lex takes the briefest looks and decodes us all down to our cores. I don’t know if it matters to his father, but Lex isbrilliant. “Herecognizes the simplest patterns, and when he’s determined, he can use all the information he gathers to control the scene, reaching whatever outcome he desires. Lex is more than a puppet pulled by the strings of this universe’s unseen script. Lex is an author himself.”
