Page 6 of Jake Forever


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Chapter 3

At the announcement of Becky's name, the place broke into wild applause.

Peering through the shadows, I looked over at Dorian's table. No onetherewas clapping. Dorian was glaring, thunderstruck, up at the emcee, who was looking more uncomfortable with each passing second. Across from Dorian, Ronnie looked too stunned to move while the rest of his companions shared nervous glances.

Near the back of the conference center, a petite brunette was making her way toward the stage.

She wound her way through the maze of tables and passed me within arm's reach. College student or not, she looked around twelve-years-old, with long brown hair and an eager, bouncing step.

When she smiled,Ismiled. I didn't even know her, but I liked her. She was so darn cute, I wanted to adopt her, like a kitten.

When she bounded up the steps and reached the emcee, he handed her a giant silver trophy, and then stepped aside, giving her access to the podium. Becky moved forward and reached up to lower the microphone before saying, "Wow, I sure wasn't expecting this."

From the shadows, Dorian's voice rang out, "You ain't the only one!" His companions roared with laughter, oblivious to the angry murmurs of those around them. Near us, a table of football-player types looked distinctly annoyed.

Becky froze for a long moment before recovering her composure to say, "I want to thank my parents and my coach, and my big sister, who pushed me into my first somersault." With a small laugh, she lifted the award and added, "Even if youdidroll me into Mom's gardenias."

The crowd laughed, and Becky smiled, looking more relaxed now. "And I want to thank my team for all their support." Her voice grew more earnest. "When it comes to team sports, I know that gymnastics isn't the first thing that people think of—"

"Got that right!" Dorian bellowed.

From the crowd, I heard louder murmurs of irritation. A deep male voice from somewhere in the back hollered out, "Hey, Dickweed! Shut up, and let her speak!"

The crowd responded with cheers and applause, leaving Dorian obviously stunned. He glared toward the voice and hollered back, "Who said that?"

There was a smattering of laughter, followed by silence until a friendly female voice called out toward the stage, "Go on, Becky! We're listening!"

Becky gave a shaky smile and continued. "But that doesn't mean teamwork isn't really important." Again, she lifted the trophy. "Because this award isn't just for me. It's for—" A loud crash made her stop in mid-sentence.

The crash had come from Dorian, who had leapt to his feet, sending his chair tumbling backward into a nearby waiter, who, in turn, had dropped his tray. I squinted through the shadows and saw breaded chicken, along with thick noodles, strewn in saucy piles across the fancy tile floor.

Yup, it was Chicken Florentine, alright.

MyChicken Florentine? Probably not. A good thing, too, because I sure as heck wasn't going to be slurping it off the slippery tile, even as hungry as I was.

Next to me, I heard Jake say under his breath, "What a pussy."

I looked up and saw what he saw. Dorian had thrown down his napkin and was heading in our direction, making his way toward the same side exit that Jake had pointed to earlier.

I had to agree. Itwasa pussy-move, storming out, just because things didn't go as planned. As for the rest of Dorian's table, they were staying put. Was that a good thing? Or a bad thing? I honestly had no idea.

Just above me, a small clattering noise broke my concentration. I looked up and saw a waiter with a huge serving tray looming over my shoulder. He smiled. "Chicken?"

Without waiting for my response, he set a covered plate in front of me and lifted its shiny silver lid. And there it was, Chicken Florentine, looking all saucy and delicious. The dish was steaming. The chicken was breaded. The noodles looked extra-buttery.

My mouth watered. Things were definitely looking up. And once Dorian was gone, the odds of trouble would go down considerably.

I gave Trey a quick glance, wondering if he'd be disappointed.

Apparently not. Grinning like a crazy person, he had his recorder trained on Dorian, who was still barreling toward us. Funny, he should've passed us by now, but for some weird reason, he kept running into obstacles – a waiter with a tray of food, a big guy in a suit who moved his chair at exactly the wrong moment, a bartender with a drink-cart.

With a string of profanity, Dorian shoved aside the cart and plowed forward.

I glanced toward the podium. Becky was still there, watching Dorian in obvious confusion. I could see why. The whole thing was beyond strange. What about the rest of his companions? Was Dorian just going to ditch them and run off?

And what about his brother?

I glanced over at Ronnie and froze. He was staring straight at our table. His face was red. His nostrils were flaring. I'm pretty sure he might've growled.