Novel Full Chapter 88: The Fall Festival, Part Three
Chapter 88: Chapter 88: The Fall Festival, Part Three
Chapter 88: The Fall Festival, Part Three
Friday’s final bell sent the classroom emptying in a rush.
Students who had spent the entire week arguing over the haunted house left with bags, cardboard cutouts, rolls of tape, and notes about supplies they still needed to buy. The room looked unfamiliar without its usual clutter. Several desks had been pushed aside to make space for the festival setup, and a stack of folded cardboard panels leaned against the wall near the windows.
Owen Keats slung his bag over one shoulder as he headed toward the door.
"I will text you the meeting spot tomorrow," he told Cyrus. "Just make sure you check your phone."
"That works for me," Cyrus said.
Owen gave him a quick nod before leaving with a few other classmates.
Cyrus remained at his desk for another minute, looking over the emptied classroom.
Tomorrow’s shopping trip did not bother him. He had agreed because it seemed safer than sitting alone in his apartment with Daphne nearby, and helping with supplies was not difficult. Carrying boxes, following a list, and pretending he understood haunted-house decorations all sounded manageable.
He packed up his books and headed for the fourth floor.
Studying before work had become part of his routine.
His grades had improved enough that teachers no longer looked at him like he was one bad quiz away from being a lost cause. He wanted to keep it that way. The Most Improved Student Award had already proved that academic effort could turn into money, and Cyrus had no intention of ignoring a system that rewarded him for doing homework.
Nobody loved studying more than someone who had learned there might be cash at the end of it.
The fourth-floor classroom was mostly empty.
Cyrus settled near the window, worked through several practice problems, and tried not to glare at the page whenever the numbers refused to cooperate. Outside, the sky shifted from pale afternoon blue into the muted gold of early evening.
By the time he packed his bag again, he had made enough progress to feel slightly less offended by math.
The hallway outside was nearly empty as he headed downstairs.
Two girls passed him from the opposite direction with several bags of supplies between them. Their voices carried easily through the quiet corridor.
"I am telling you, there really is a ridiculously handsome guy at this school," one of them said. "I have seen him wearing the uniform."
"You keep saying that, but every person I look at is the same group everyone already talks about."
"He had white hair," the first girl insisted. "I saw him after school once, and I have not been able to figure out which class he belongs to."
"That sounds like the person who has been asking around about a white-haired upperclassman."
"Exactly. I heard she was still looking yesterday."
Cyrus lowered his head and kept walking.
The girl who had seen him during the basketball game had not given up.
He had assumed time would solve the problem. Most people lost interest after a few days, especially when they had only seen someone once. Apparently, that did not apply to everyone.
Humans could develop very strange fixations.
His thoughts briefly touched on Audra.
Some humans were stranger than others.
Cyrus kept moving until the girls’ conversation faded behind him.
On the way to The Full Moon Lounge, he stopped in the staff changing room and fixed his appearance for work.
The mirror showed a version of himself that had nothing to do with school. His dark bangs were brushed aside, his glasses were gone, and the uniform had been replaced with the lounge’s loose black shirt and dark slacks. The outfit was simple, comfortable, and far better than the few clothes in his apartment closet.
He studied his reflection for a moment.
Maybe he should buy something tomorrow.
His wardrobe had become embarrassingly small. Most of his clothes were practical school outfits, cheap work clothes, or things he had bought because they fit without attracting attention. If he kept avoiding stores, his closet would eventually become so empty that it might as well grow cobwebs.
The clothes Daphne had sent over were not an option.
She had delivered them under the excuse of helping him when he changed into Cory, but every piece had looked carefully chosen for her own enjoyment. Cyrus had no intention of wearing them normally.
He could, however, put one on someday, stand in her doorway with the personal alarm raised, and make her order him takeout as compensation.
That idea had potential.
Cyrus gave his reflection a small nod before heading out to work.
Friday nights brought a slightly different crowd to the lounge.
A few students from nearby colleges came in dressed like they were trying very hard to look older than they were. Most ordered low-proof cocktails, beer, or sweet drinks they could hold while pretending they had entered some glamorous adult world.
Cyrus did not care what they ordered as long as they paid, tipped, and did not create trouble.
So far, none of them wore St. Alder uniforms.
That was reassuring.
Owen Keats did not count as evidence of good behavior because Owen could probably become an exception to any rule if he felt like it.
The shift passed without anything dramatic.
Cyrus mixed drinks, cleared glasses, wiped down the counter, and spent enough time looking at the register totals to confirm that the lounge had done better than it had earlier in the week. Malcolm stayed relaxed as always, directing the closing routine with quiet efficiency.
When Cyrus finally left, the city had gone dark beyond the lounge windows.
Saturday morning arrived faster than he wanted.
A little after nine, Cyrus got off a crowded bus outside a shopping center with his school bag resting against one hip. The sidewalks were full of weekend shoppers, families carrying coffee, teenagers moving in packs, and people weaving around each other with the irritated patience of anyone who had come out to buy something before lunch.
He checked Owen’s message, followed the address, and found Owen and Iris Wexley waiting near a fountain outside the entrance.
Cyrus raised one hand in greeting.
Owen noticed him first.
"You really came in uniform on a Saturday?"
"It makes things easier," Cyrus said.
That was not the full explanation.
Cyrus could not wear the clothes meant for Cory. He could not wear anything from Daphne’s collection without wondering whether it came with an unspoken expectation. His school uniform was clean, familiar, and available in the right size.
Convenience mattered.
Owen wore a baseball cap, a crossbody bag, and a loose gray hoodie that made him look much more relaxed than he did in class. Iris stood beside him in a pale sweater and jeans, her long hair woven into a braid that rested over one shoulder.
Cyrus looked between them.
Something about Iris seemed strange.
She was not directly watching Owen. Her attention appeared fixed on the fountain, the storefronts, and the people passing through the plaza. Yet every time Owen moved, spoke, or shifted his bag, Iris seemed aware of it before anyone else.
Cyrus tilted his head slightly.
Maybe he was imagining things.
He decided it was not worth thinking about.
A small disturbance moved through the crowd near the mall entrance.
People turned their heads. A few conversations lowered. Someone walking past nearly missed the curb because they had looked up at the wrong time.
Audra approached from the far side of the plaza.
She wore a white blouse beneath a light beige coat, fitted dark pants, and a small shoulder bag. The outfit was simple enough for a weekend trip, but it did nothing to make her blend in. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and the composed expression she wore at school had followed her into the crowd.
Owen let out a quiet breath.
"Audra really does make entering a place look difficult."
Iris gave a faint nod.
Cyrus watched Audra reach them.
He had no strong reaction to the outfit. She looked like Audra. That was enough.
What bothered him was the fact that she had volunteered for this trip at all.
There were four of them.
With Owen and Iris nearby, Audra should not suddenly drag him around a corner, mistake him for another person, or stare at him like she had forgotten how normal conversation worked.
At least, that was what Cyrus hoped.
"Sorry for being late," Audra said.
"We only just got here," Iris replied.
Audra’s attention shifted toward Cyrus almost immediately.
Cyrus, meanwhile, had started counting pigeons near the fountain.
He had reached seven before one of them flew away.
The four of them entered the shopping center together.
Owen and Iris had prepared most of the supply list in advance, which made the trip easier. They moved from store to store with their phones open, checking off items as they found them. Cardboard panels, painter’s tape, string lights, black fabric, fake cobwebs, plastic chains, rechargeable lanterns, cheap masks, poster board, and several bags of candy gradually filled their arms.
Cyrus carried more than his share without complaint.
It was not hard work, and buying supplies with a group was more interesting than he expected. He did not have to make decisions. He only had to follow Owen when Owen pointed at a store and hold whatever item Iris handed him.
Audra and Iris walked a little ahead of them.
Even in a crowded mall, people noticed Audra.
Cyrus watched one employee nearly forget what he was saying when Audra asked where they kept adhesive hooks. Another shopper stepped aside too quickly when she passed, then looked back after she was gone.
Cyrus understood why attention was inconvenient.
He did not understand why people kept seeking it.
Behind the girls, Owen paused outside a toy store.
The front display was filled with plush animals, game consoles, model kits, bright plastic figures, and rows of boxes promising complicated adventures. Owen stood near the glass for a few seconds, then smiled to himself.
"It is strange," he said. "We finally reached the age we used to think was amazing."
Cyrus glanced at him.
"What age is that?"
"The age where you can walk into a store and buy whatever you wanted as a kid."
Cyrus considered the toys.
A memory stirred without becoming clear.
He remembered being small. He remembered the Frostborn settlement. He remembered snow, locked doors, distant voices, and women who treated him like something precious for all the wrong reasons.
Somewhere inside that period, he must have had a childish dream.
He could not remember what it was.
The thought vanished before he could catch it.
Owen looked at him again.
"When did you stop feeling like a kid?"
Cyrus answered in his head first.
When being young no longer made the women around him leave him alone.
When protection became another word for being watched.
When he realized nobody would come running if he called for help.
The real answer did not belong in a shopping center.
Cyrus gave the toy store display a thoughtful look and said, "When Father stopped taking an interest in me."
Owen froze.
Then he laughed.
The sound came out so suddenly that two people walking past turned to look at him.
Cyrus did not understand what was funny.
He had only answered honestly enough to avoid explaining anything real.
Ahead of them, Iris shifted slightly.
Her braid moved against her shoulder as she glanced back toward Cyrus for a brief second.
Cyrus felt the attention and looked up.
All he saw were Audra and Iris walking ahead with their backs turned.