A Wayne

5- Gala Al La Gotham

-Martha-

Tonight's theme was, well assumingely, Hollywood meets over exaggerated prom night. Balloons pooled past the entrance, and the bright red carpet screamed, "I'm famous, at least for tonight".

I was never completely sure who the hell Gothams overly rich families regularly hired for Gala planning, but sure as shit this was not a regular planner. First of all, they had the press stationed at the entrance, probably making the excuse it was all for the theme. If there's one thing all the highest of high society hates is getting their pictures taken. Sure, being a movie start was one thing, their entire appearance was photos and film. But when you have 15 times more money then the top rated movie start of the year, you tend to get sick of the photography real quick.

Press usually either left our family untouched, or swapped it around, turning us into and all mysterious story, full of potential. I remember freshmen year, having several students specifically asking to be my friends out of the blue, all because Gotham's Times was doing an undercover story called "Wayne's: The Teen Angst Finally Told".

The first is what we prefer of course, especially Mother. She craves the idea of seeming untouchable, so high in rank not even the press would dare snap a single photo. Although, for appearances she will let a photo or two slip by, taken by professionals at her own accord. But tonight was not at all like that, and I could tell she did not like that one bit.

"Bruce..." She leans over, linking her arms into Fathers, "Use it now...please." He nods slightly, hoping none of us would notice them conversing quietly.

Then, without reason, the cameras stopped flashing, and a murmur of confusion erupted.

"What the fuck?"

"Goddamn cameras busted!"

"Anyone else getting this?"

The press began panicking, checking their cameras; having realized they wouldn't be getting their million dollar photo of a member of the Wayne family, nor any other family for that matter.

As expected, mother and father seemly float through the small commotion as if they had not noticed anything happened at all. Their eyes peeled to the entrance to the gala room, with their heads held so high; I am surprised Micheal was the truly high one here tonight. The rest of my brother follow behind them, trying to take notes on how mother and father walk, act, breathe. You would think this sort of thing came naturally to us young Wayne's. Sure, we knew how to act in-front of high society; Smile, make small talk, how to chew your food properly. In the end we were trained to always find the weakness in the room, and we were sure as hell damned it was not going to be us any time soon. So, we watch mother and father; our veterans of sort. They have fought the wars of galas, after parties, dinner parties, all the parties one can name and attend in high society. They know how to approach every situation with easy. In a way like a dance. All I can do is hope I do not fall.

Micheal begins to sort of drift side ways into the direction of entrance door way. His newly shined, very expensive I may mention, shoes tripping over the tacky red carpet; making their way almost into the door.

My hand reaches for him, cringing at the thought of what would happen if he fell. Would the press have their cameras back on? Would he fall back into me, causing an even bigger incident? Most importantly, what would our parent say?

"Woah there Mike." My hand sort of wraps through his arm, hopefully people will just think I wanted him to escort me in.

"Ima good!" His voice a little too high.

I roll my eyes, "You know, mother and father expect you to be a police officer." He stumbles once more, but hardly noticeable from anyone but me, attempting to hold him up.