Baby Fat

twenty-six

Before anything else, Bradley notices the amount of sticks in the room. As soon as he walks in, he's just blasted by the amount of petite twenty year old ballerinas who look like they're twelve.

They're all smiling and clutching flowers with dear life. People rub their arms and shoulders, caress them. The girls show little to no sign of discomfort, but anyone with a brain can sense it.

Cassandra leads Bradley over to a table with a card that says "Johnson". There are at least half a dozen seats at the table, but it's only them from the Johnson family tonight.

"What's up with all the seats?" Bradley asks, unsure about sitting down. Cassandra just laughs, and brushes his comment off with a wave.

A few minutes later, ballerinas are running to take a seat by them. Two by two the seats are filling up.

When the table is full, Cassandra smiles at them all and greets them. They almost clap their hands with excitement, but Cassandra catches it and holds her hand up before they do. They all cast their eyes downward and blush.

"I have to thank all of you tremendously talented people to join me here today." Cassandra looks around at them all, and they all stare back with awe, like she's the legend everyone whispers about and writes about. "As you've learned through my managements email, I'm opening a ballet studio in Santa Monica--and you've all been invited as instructors."

Everyone grins with exuberance, eyes gleaming with tears. Everyone but Bradley, who looks at his mother in complete and utter sickened by his mother's announcement. He was kept clueless, just like always.

Cassandra continues, ignoring Bradley's stare, "there are quite a few kinks that need to be worked out but I'm more than excited to have you guys on the Santa Monica team." Cassandra keeps her elegantly posed body still, zero movement. Not even a smile. She looks like an ice queen surrounded by her kin.

Nobody chatters, or dares to breath as she talks. All their focus is on her, like some kind of god they worship.

"I will be taking all questions during this dinner, and more through my management," Cassandra has no emotion in her voice. Bradley's not surprised by her lack of emotion. "I want you all to enjoy this time with your new coworkers and with me. The next few months will be overflowing with things to do."

Cassandra raises her wine glass that the waiter filled while she was talking. "Here's to Santa Monica," she toasts. Everyone picks up their glasses and clinked them with the others.

The chatter fills the table as people gloat. They gain stares from surrounding people who wonder what is so exciting about the night. Other than his mother's appalling announcement, this event is no different from the hundreds of others Bradley's attended.

"Why didn't you tell me about Santa Monica?" Bradley asks his mother while all the others are distracted by their own talk they don't notice him.

Cassandra touches her hair, pushing a piece away from her face. "I just got everything set in stone the other month. I didn't think you'd care, anyway."

Bradley refrains from rolling his eyes, "Santa Monica is basically across the country. Are we moving?" Bradley feels this panic set in his stomach. Moving to Santa Monica means leaving behind his life in Michigan, which he doesn't think he could do.

"You won't be moving," Cassandra looks at her food with disapproval. "I'll be going to Santa Monica for the next month to set up shop, then I'll return before I head off to France for a show. When I return I'll land in Santa Monica, and stay for the remaining of the year."

Bradley doesn't know what to feel exactly. With her out of his life, maybe he wouldn't be worrying about her affair constantly. Maybe, just maybe, he'd feel less guilty about keeping it from his father. And maybe he'd start eating again. But those are all maybes, which do no good for him.