Chapter 41: Stay (Part 1)

The announcement brought Mr. Cald to the north-west yard, where he stopped Milo at the edge of the crowd with a handful of sweater at the shoulder.

Students were still flowing out of the building, calling to friends and squeezing past those who had paused to answer. Every time a gap opened the entrance, someone else filled it.

On the stage steps, her purple dress brushing the wood, Miss Rolt stopped beside a man in a cook’s apron. She spoke into his ear before continuing to the microphone, and he vanished back inside the building.

Rosaline was working her phone with both thumbs. The flail’s outline hadn’t moved, but someone could be standing over it. The instructor’s grip was firm.

Too many things to track.

And yet, what knotted Milo’s stomach the most was the woman on stage.

She raised the microphone to her mouth. That same morning, she had been laughing about the cheesecake Aldous would make.

Where was her smile?

Right. Only he knew.

"Good afternoon, dear students and teachers. I’m Louise Rolt. I asked Mr. Thwaite to bring you out here. I wanted you to hear this from me."

Rosaline, meanwhile, pocketed her phone and waved over the crowd. Grace emerged from the side, gathering her keys against her skirt.

"Miss Grace, could you help?" the girl called. "Mr. Cald won’t let Milo go."

"Won’t let Milo go..." The secretary placed her palm on the bunched collar. "On what grounds?"

"He claims to have read the academy’s restricted plans," Mr. Cald replied. "I’d like to know how he got them."

"I never claimed anything," Milo spoke up. "He’s holding me because he doesn’t like me."

Grace nodded and met the man’s gaze. "Has... has anything actually been broken into?"

"He described reading documents he cannot legally access. Would you prefer I let him leave before we establish how?"

Milo tried to loosen his shoulder, but the instructor’s fingers followed, drawing the sweater tight again.

"With everything else that’s happened around this student," the man continued, "I will have an answer."

"Could you let go of his sweater while you ask? He isn’t going anywhere with us standing here."

"He has been trying to leave since I asked about the plans."

"So you won’t?"

"I won’t."

"Then I’ll ask Mr. Thwaite to come over. He can—"

"They found Aldous this morning."

Everyone froze.

"My husband is dead."

Someone nearby repeated the last word as a question. Silence spread over the crowd and smothered even the lightest chatter.

Only clothes rustled. People tensing up after realizing none of this was a joke.

Mr. Cald’s posture stiffened, his thumb digging harder into Milo’s shoulder.

"He went out there knowing how many of you were ill. And seeing you all here now..."

Louise brought the microphone against her chest to wipe a tear from beneath one eye.

"At least all of you here are okay."

But it was me.

Among the bowed heads, Milo waited for just a single silhouette to look back.

I did that.

Yesterday they had cheered while he stood among them.

What were all those OFFs for?

Today they were sobbing.

You’re alive because of me.

It took a good minute for the crowd to process the fact itself. As Louise tried to speak again, Mr. Cald swallowed twice and drew a breath that shook on the way out.

His grip had not loosened.

"...I’ll get Mr. Thwaite," Grace said.

Rosaline walked with her.

"I wish he’d been here yesterday," Louise said. "To hear you."

A gust of wind blew a strand of hair across her mouth, which she tucked behind her ear.

...

"What have I been called over for?"

Mr. Thwaite had come alone. Stopping directly in front of them, he blocked Milo’s view of the stage as Louise went on with her speech.

"Andrew—"

"What is going on between you two? Is there something I don’t know?"

Milo exchanged a glance with Mr. Cald.

The instructor straightened and pushed out a long breath.

"The grille outside came off a duct that leads to the bathroom where Milo says he hid. When I said we should inspect it, the student told me the rooms weren’t connected. He claims he’s read the blueprints."

Milo looked over to his shoulder, his palm hovering an inch away from the man’s.

His explanation came out evenly, but the fingers bunched in the sweater were trembling.

"And that’s why you’re holding him?"

"The rooms it connects to should be inspec—"

"Have you heard what she’s saying?"

"I heard her."

"Whatever is in that bathroom can wait five minutes. Take your hand off him."

"Andrew, he was trying—"

"The Parish Warden has been found DEAD!"

Taken aback, the instructor spread his arms out. "A-Andrew, no, I—"

"Look at her!" Mr. Thwaite pointed at the stage. "Look at the widow, would you, Cald? Can you hear how you sound?" His voice rose, and several students nearby turned. "She’s up there talking about her husband and you’re still trying to catch Milo out."

"I’m asking you to have the bathroom checked. Before he goes back into it."

"Look at him." Mr. Thwaite pointed at Milo, then leaned in. "Louise asked us to look after him. She noticed how unwell he is. Have you? Ever?"

Mr. Cald’s chin dipped, but he tried again.

"I’m asking how he got access. That’s a reasonable—"

"And you can ask him in my office when this is over. For now, leave him alone. I can’t with you people. Scorched earth, always!"

Past Mr. Thwaite’s arm, tears ran down Miss Rolt’s cheeks. She wiped them with the heel of her hand. The microphone picked up each wet breath.

On Monday, he would be back in class because of her.

Seeing a person who might’ve cared for him in a state like this...

He lowered his head.

Beside his cheek, however, the sweater’s collar had settled flat.

Mr. Cald was pointing at the building with the hand he’d held him by.

Milo eased one foot back.

Mr. Thwaite followed the pointing arm with an angry sweep of his own, and Milo took another step, slipping behind the two men.

Once clear of their shoulders, he hurried for the entrance.

Grace and Rosaline hadn’t come back with the principal. Still hoping they were somewhere in the crowd, Milo pushed through the doors and shot for the stairs.

What he could not outrun were the school comms, over which came Louise’s quivering voice.

"Many of you have been waiting to thank my husband. So have I."

At the first-floor landing, he pulled himself around the banister and bolted down the empty corridor.

"I know he could be difficult to get a word in with..."

He ducked under the Out of Service tape and slid across the bathroom tiles to the vent.

"They haven’t found his Flanged Flail. Lost in battle."

A jump got his fingers hooked around the metal lip. He hauled himself up. His knees knocked the wall.

"Just in case..."

The duct scraped his elbows, and his first reach only pushed the chain farther away.

"...if anyone saw it..."

Come here, you piece of shit.

"...please tell a member of staff."

Milo crawled after it until his fingers closed around a link. A flange lodged in a dent in the metal.

A wet sniff came over the comms.

"I would like it back."

He twisted the chain with both hands. The head rolled free and bumped down the duct.

"He carried that thing everywhere."

He pushed the weapon out first and followed, landing badly on his knees.

"Everywhere we went."

He looped the chain over his shoulder and shoved the head up under his sweater.

"I had to ask him to move it..."

The metal cooled the bruises on his chest.

"...just so I could sit next to my own husband."

A little scoff escaped her. Almost a laugh.

"I wouldn’t ask him to move it now."

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⋆˚࿔ Coming right up: "Stay (Part 2: Finale)" ... ⤵︎ [!]