Chapter 102: The Fall Festival, Part Seventeen

Chapter 102: Chapter 102: The Fall Festival, Part Seventeen

Chapter 102: The Fall Festival, Part Seventeen

The second day of St. Alder’s Fall Festival began with the same noise and energy as the first.

Students filled the halls before morning announcements ended. Music leaked from classrooms, costumed volunteers called out to passing groups, and the smell of fried food had already reached the academic building from the athletic field.

Cyrus and Faye sat behind the entrance table for Classroom Three’s haunted house.

They had worked the final shift yesterday. Today, Ms. Hart had assigned them the opening shift instead, apparently so the same pair would not be stuck closing two days in a row.

Cyrus had no complaints.

Once his hour ended, the rest of the festival belonged to him. He could visit the game rooms, find something good to eat, and avoid any activity that involved Audra dressed in white.

The morning line was shorter than yesterday’s.

Students had apparently learned that Audra was not inside the haunted house during the opening shift, which reduced the number of visitors who appeared suspiciously interested in being frightened by a beautiful snow ghost. A few groups still came through, but the hallway never became crowded enough to require much work.

Faye sat beside Cyrus with her hands folded near the cash box.

She did not seem bored.

Cyrus watched the students passing through the corridor and felt much the same. He had endured days in the Frostborn settlement when absolutely nothing changed from sunrise to nightfall. Sitting beside a haunted-house entrance while costumes and festival decorations moved past him was easy entertainment by comparison.

One detail kept catching his attention.

There were more masks today.

A pair of students walked by wearing matching fox masks. Someone farther down the hall had a painted cat mask pushed above her forehead. Several others had chosen skulls, rabbits, or simple half-face designs.

The mask classroom must have done much better after yesterday.

Cyrus accepted a ticket from the next visitor and briefly wondered whether he deserved some credit.

A school photographer had taken his picture in the crooked fox mask. He had also wandered through enough hallways that plenty of students might have seen him wearing it.

Perhaps he had started a small trend without realizing it.

The thought was shamelessly self-satisfied.

Cyrus allowed himself to enjoy it anyway.

When the entrance line emptied again, he noticed a small plate on the desk in front of him.

A slice of cake sat on it.

The cake looked plain, with a light layer of frosting and no elaborate decorations. Its edges were slightly uneven in a way that made it look homemade rather than bought from a bakery.

Before Cyrus could ask where it came from, Faye finished dividing the cake into two portions. She placed a small plastic fork beside his slice.

"You worked hard yesterday," she said. "I thought we could eat this during the quiet part of our shift."

Cyrus looked at the cake, then at her.

"Thank you for bringing it."

There was nothing else he could say without making the simple gesture more awkward than it needed to be.

Faye was kind in a way that never felt demanding.

She had never treated his gloomy school appearance like a reason to avoid him. She did not complain when he came to her house, played games with her siblings, or sat quietly while she read. Even when he acted distant, she responded with the same steady patience.

Maybe Faye treated everyone this gently.

That possibility did not lessen his gratitude.

Cyrus took his plate.

The first bite was soft and sweet, with a richer flavor than the small bakery cakes he usually bought. It tasted homemade, though he could not identify what made it different.

He ate another bite before remembering that compliments were expected when someone cooked for him.

"This cake tastes really good," Cyrus said. "Did you bake it yourself?"

"Yes, I made it."

Faye’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

She had wanted him to notice.

Cyrus had handled most of yesterday’s work after arriving, even though the shift belonged to both of them. Making him a cake seemed like a reasonable way to repay that small kindness.

Cyrus continued eating.

Faye’s cooking remained one of the most reliable things in his current life. Every time she gave him food, it tasted good without arriving with a contract hidden underneath it.

In Cyrus’s private ranking of people, that placed her very high.

A stir in the hallway pulled his attention away from the plate.

Daphne Whitlock was walking toward them with an older female student trailing a few steps behind. Both wore armbands identifying them as festival inspectors, and the student carried a clipboard filled with checklists.

Teachers and volunteers greeted Daphne as she passed.

She wore her usual professional clothes rather than a costume. The fitted jacket and dark skirt made her look every bit like the admired St. Alder teacher everyone believed her to be. Her posture was composed, her expression pleasant, and students moved aside for her without being asked.

Cyrus could not connect that image with the woman from last night.

At school, Daphne looked calm and respectable.

In her apartment, she had stared at Cory like someone standing outside a locked bakery after skipping meals for three days. The personal safety alarm had been the only thing stopping her from crossing the room.

Cyrus had even spread his arms and invited her to try.

She had refused.

He had pushed hard enough that pulling the alarm without a real cause would have been unfair, but Daphne had somehow managed to stay on her side of the room despite every terrible idea clearly passing through her mind.

Perhaps that was how she had survived as a teacher.

She knew when witnesses, laws, and consequences mattered.

Daphne approached the haunted-house entrance while pretending to review the decorations and safety setup.

Her eyes passed over Cyrus.

The hand holding her clipboard tightened.

Last night had not gone as planned.

She had originally told herself that she only wanted to hold Cory because the smaller form looked vulnerable, cold, and easy to care for. That excuse had become harder to maintain every time Cyrus exposed how much he hated being handled or cornered.

The alarm had forced her to stop.

Even when Cory smiled at her, opened his arms, and dared her to cross the room, Daphne had known what the scene would become if the device started screaming. Neighbors would hear it. Police might arrive. No explanation involving concern, rent, or meals would make her behavior look acceptable.

She had stayed back.

Cyrus had taken full advantage of that restraint.

He had ordered food, demanded the rent refund, and watched her transfer money with the smug satisfaction of someone who had finally found a weapon that worked.

Daphne glanced at him again.

He sat beside Faye eating homemade cake.

A few crumbs clung to his fork. His posture looked relaxed, and nothing in his expression suggested he had spent the previous night ordering his teacher around from her couch.

Daphne’s grip tightened once more.

She had no shortage of patience.

Sooner or later, the alarm would stop being enough.

Faye noticed Cyrus watching the approaching teacher and followed his attention.

Daphne’s gaze met hers briefly.

The pause was tiny.

Then Daphne continued down the hall with the student inspector, her pace a little quicker than before.

Faye watched her leave.

Something had changed in Daphne’s expression when she saw Cyrus.

It had lasted less than a second, yet Faye could not dismiss it. She had also seen Cyrus stiffen around Daphne’s white costume yesterday, though that might have been connected to the haunted-house theme rather than the teacher herself.

Faye lowered her fork.

She hoped Daphne was not targeting him over something at school.

Cyrus already carried enough worry without adding trouble from a teacher.

Their shift ended shortly after they finished the cake.

The replacement pair arrived on time, and Cyrus handed over the cash box without needing to explain much. Faye gathered the empty plates, then the two of them exchanged a quiet goodbye near the classroom door.

Cyrus returned to the mask booth.

He bought another fox mask, adjusted it over his face, and began wandering the campus alone.

No work waited for him that afternoon.

He intended to enjoy that fact properly.

The partial rent refund from Daphne had also left him with more spending money than usual. She had sent only half of the two months he demanded, claiming the rest was not immediately available.

Cyrus did not believe her.

She probably had the money and remained unwilling to surrender all her leverage at once. He understood the reluctance. If he had failed to get what he wanted, he would not have enjoyed paying either.

He had accepted the partial refund without laughing in her face.

That proved he was not a cruel person.

The rest could wait.

As long as the personal safety alarm remained within reach, Daphne could not try anything too reckless.

Cyrus spent the next few hours drifting through the festival.

He threw darts at the same booth from yesterday and improved enough to hit one of the inner rings. At another activity, he tried scooping small floating prizes from a shallow plastic pool and failed twice before winning a cheap keychain. He bought a warm pastry, followed it with ice cream, and stopped at any table where the food smelled worth the price.

Being alone did not bother him.

He could change direction without explaining himself, leave a line if it moved too slowly, and buy food without someone staring at his choices. The mask kept his face hidden, and the festival offered enough noise that nobody expected conversation.

Near the smaller track, Cyrus found a crowd gathered around a student-run sprint challenge.

A painted sign explained the rules.

Participants paid a small entry fee and ran fifty yards. Finishing in under six seconds earned a large plush toy displayed beside the registration table. Times between seven and eight seconds earned smaller prizes, while anyone slower received a consolation lollipop.

Cyrus studied the plush.

It was a round white animal with tiny ears and an expression that looked mildly annoyed at the world.

He liked it.

The prize would make a decent souvenir from his first Fall Festival. It might also improve the nearly empty appearance of his apartment, though Daphne would probably see it through a camera and invent some strange meaning.

Cyrus paid the entry fee.

He had spent gym class avoiding effort whenever possible. This was a good chance to see how fast he could actually run without attracting much suspicion.

The weather had cooled considerably.

Even a longer sprint probably would not build enough heat to trigger a Frostborn transformation. During summer, standing outside had sometimes been enough to make his body unstable. October gave him far more room to move.

Six seconds did not sound difficult.

Cyrus stepped onto the short track with complete confidence.

A student volunteer suggested he stretch first.

Cyrus declined.

The starting signal sounded.

He pushed off hard.

Pain shot through his ankle before he completed the first few strides.

Cyrus stumbled, caught himself, and limped to a stop while laughter and sympathetic noises rose from the students watching nearby.

The volunteer who had suggested warming up gave him an expression that was far too close to amusement.

"You should probably visit the nurse," she said. "That ankle is going to swell."

Cyrus looked at the large plush toy.

It continued staring at him from the prize table with its mildly judgmental face.

He left with the consolation lollipop.

The walk to the school nurse’s office was slow and embarrassing.

Cyrus could have forced himself to move normally, but that would only make the injury worse. Frostborn healing would probably settle it after a night of rest, though he still needed to make the injury look ordinary if anyone noticed.

Exercise required more preparation than he had assumed.

That was his mistake.

The nurse’s office was empty when he arrived.

The school nurse was probably helping somewhere else during the festival. The room door had been left unlocked, and the overhead lights were on, but no one sat behind the desk.

Cyrus limped inside.

He checked the cabinet where basic first-aid supplies were stored and found bandages, cold packs, antiseptic wipes, and a tube of pain-relief cream meant for minor sprains.

He took what he needed.

The injury did not feel serious. His ankle already hurt less once he stopped walking, though he planned to wrap it and act cautious until the festival ended.

Cyrus sat on one of the examination beds beside the window.

Outside, students crossed the courtyard in groups, carrying food, prizes, and festival bags. Someone ran past wearing a cape that streamed behind them. A cluster of students gathered near a game booth, cheering every time a ball struck its target.

Cyrus watched them while rubbing a small amount of cream over his ankle.

He had been careless.

Running without warming up had been a stupid decision, especially when he had no experience testing his real athletic limits. A plush toy was not worth limping across campus.

At least the injury would heal.

He could rest tonight, keep weight off it when possible, and probably wake up feeling normal.

Cyrus leaned forward to reach for the bandage.

He did not hear the door open.

He did not notice the person enter.

Behind him, a figure wearing a fox mask stood in complete silence.