Captain.
The word still felt too large for the girl who had once studied alone at kitchen tables while Brianna laughed in the next room and my father praised everyone but me.
But I walked.
Halfway down the VIP section, I saw them.
My father, Richard, sat stiffly beside my stepmother, Valerie, who was fixing Brianna’s collar for another photo. Brianna held my gold ticket in one hand and her phone in the other.
Then she saw me beside the general.
Her smile faltered.
Valerie turned next, annoyance changing into confusion. My father looked up last, narrowing his eyes as though he could not understand why I had been allowed inside at all.
General Ellison stopped beside their row.
“Mr. Reed,” he said formally, making every nearby guest listen, “you must be very proud.”
My father half rose. “Yes, of course. Very proud.”
The words sounded borrowed.
The general looked at the ticket in Brianna’s hand, then back at him.
