Chapter 123: Bold Enough

Chapter 123: Chapter 123: Bold Enough

Chapter 123: Bold Enough

The second-to-last class before dismissal ended with the teacher barely managing to assign homework before the bell.

The homework was not a small worksheet.

It was a thick packet of printed problems, stapled in the upper corner, the kind of assignment teachers handed out when they wanted students to understand that free time was a rumor invented by weaker schools. A few students groaned the moment the stack reached their row. Others flipped through the pages with the stunned silence of people watching their evening plans die on paper.

When the bell rang, the classroom loosened all at once.

Students leaned across desks, formed little circles, checked phones under the table, complained about the packet, and started negotiating who had notes from which class. Nobody paid much attention to the back corner, where quiet people were expected to stay quiet.

Cyrus Calder was still calculating whether he could finish the assignment before his shift at The Full Moon Lounge.

The answer looked unpleasant. The packet was not impossible, but it was dense enough that rushing would only create more mistakes. He still had to pick up his phone after school, eat something if he could, and get to work on time. Sleep had not yet been invited into the schedule.

While he was deciding which problems could be handled first, three girls approached Faye Larkin’s desk.

Cyrus recognized them immediately.

They had different faces, different hairstyles, and the same expression. The kind that looked sweet from a distance and turned sharp only when the target was close enough to hear it.

The one in front pressed her hands together.

"Please, Faye. You always take the best notes, and you are so much better at this than we are."

The other two followed as if they had practiced being charming in chorus.

"We would seriously owe you."

"You are the only person we trust with this."

Faye sat with her back close to the wall, the packet in front of her and her pen still in hand. Her eyes flicked once toward the papers the girls were holding, then lowered again.

"I might not have time to..."

"Oh, come on," the girl in front interrupted, still smiling. "We have things after school today, and you already understand the material. It will take you no time at all. Please help us."

"It is just one packet."

"You are always so nice about this."

If someone walked in during that moment without knowing anything, the scene could have passed for a normal favor between classmates. A few girls asking for help. A quiet student being praised for good notes. Nothing obvious enough to call cruel.

That was probably why they did it this way.

They were already shifting the worksheets toward Faye’s desk, ready to thank her before she could fully refuse, when Cyrus spoke.

"Do none of you have enough of a brain to do your own homework?"

The three girls turned together.

Cyrus had stood up behind Faye’s desk. His bangs still shadowed most of his face, and his voice did not rise, which somehow made the question sound less like an outburst and more like a sincere attempt to understand a medical condition.

The leader’s smile vanished.

"What does this have to do with you?"

"Am I supposed to manage you?" Cyrus asked. "What am I, your parent?"

The classroom around them had not gone silent, but the nearby chatter thinned. A few students looked over, sensing the small shift in the air.

Cyrus tilted his head slightly.

"If you cannot finish the homework, is that because you refuse to work, or because all three of you combined cannot produce one working brain?"

The girl’s face tightened.

"What is wrong with you? Faye did not say anything, so why are you talking?"

"Exactly."

"Seriously, who asked you?"

Cyrus stepped forward, and the three girls moved back half a step before they seemed to realize they had done it.

"Faye is nice and does not want to argue with you," he said. "I am watching you take advantage of that, and I find it annoying."

"Cyrus," Faye said softly.

She reached toward his sleeve as if she wanted to stop him before the scene grew worse. Cyrus glanced down and shook his head once.

Faye’s fingers paused in the air.

After a moment, she lowered her hand without touching him.

The leading girl saw the exchange. Her gaze moved from Cyrus to Faye, then back again, and a mocking laugh slipped out.

"That is adorable. Is this supposed to be some rescue scene?"

The girl beside her snickered.

"Not much of a beauty to rescue, though."

The third girl covered her mouth in a way that made the laugh more obvious.

"They do look good together."

"They really do," another added, drawing out the words.

The insult landed in the open space between them.

Cyrus ignored the implication. Instead, he gave a small laugh, not warm enough to count as amusement.

"If you enjoy matchmaking that much, are you Cupid’s poorly trained dogs?"

The leader’s eyes widened.

"Why is your mouth so disgusting?"

"Maybe I ran into something dirty."

"You little..."

Cyrus let his hands rest loosely in front of him. The posture was calm, but the contempt beneath it was not hidden at all.

He truly did look down on them.

If the three girls had come after him, he might have ignored it. He had been watched, followed, accused, cornered, and handled by people far more dangerous than bored classmates with too much confidence. Their opinions would not affect his rent or his shift schedule.

Faye was different.

Faye was gentle, and they were using that gentleness as a handle. Worse, part of their attention on her might have come from yesterday’s false accusation, which meant Cyrus and Owen’s situation had dragged her into something she never deserved.

Considering that, Cyrus thought his current restraint counted as excellent manners.

The argument in the corner had drawn more attention by then. Students turned in their seats. Someone near the middle row stopped pretending not to listen. The general class noise lowered into a restless murmur.

Near Audra Sloane’s desk, a classmate whispered something about Cyrus and Faye looking like a pair.

Audra did not move.

The air around her seemed to cool by a degree.

She looked toward the three girls with a quiet expression, and for one sharp moment she wanted to use the glamourkin ring to make them take back that sentence. The thought was impractical, dangerous, and more tempting than it should have been.

Before she decided whether to interfere, Owen Keats stepped into the argument.

"Everyone here is in the same class," Owen said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Can we not talk this through?"

Cyrus looked at him.

"Classmates ask someone to explain a problem. They do not shove a packet at someone and make her do the work."

Owen had no immediate defense for that.

The three girls also said nothing.

Their attention remained fixed on Cyrus.

After several seconds, the leader picked up her packet and gave him a cold smile.

"You should make sure you are this brave after school too."

With that, she turned and walked out.

The other two followed her, leaving behind the kind of silence that did not mean a conflict had ended.

Cyrus did not even bother rolling his eyes.

Owen gave him a strained look, then returned to his seat as if he had several thoughts and no safe place to put any of them.

Cyrus turned back toward his own desk.

Before he could sit, Faye caught the edge of his sleeve.

The grip was very light.

"Thank you," she said.

"You do not need to thank me."

If the matter had to be traced backward, Owen’s childhood friend probably deserved some of the blame. If Iris had not targeted Cyrus and Faye yesterday, the three girls might not have noticed that Faye could be pushed. The class’s background students might have stayed background students, which would have been better for everyone involved.

Cyrus returned to his seat and glanced once at Owen.

Owen looked guilty enough that the message reached him without a word.

The next bell rang before the awkwardness could spread any farther.

Class resumed.

Cyrus tried to focus on the lesson, but before he had managed to care about the board, Owen slid a folded note onto his desk while the teacher turned to write.

Cyrus opened it beneath his notebook.

Owen had written quickly.

The girl who has not come back yet is close with guys from another school. I heard they hang around after dismissal. Are you sure this will be okay?

Cyrus took Owen’s pen when the teacher looked away again and wrote below it.

I have a way to handle it.

He slid the note back.

Passing notes with the person in the next seat was admittedly convenient. It had fewer complications than texting during Daphne’s class, and nobody could confiscate paper without first caring enough to notice.

The rest of class crawled toward dismissal.

When the final bell rang, the room emptied in the usual rush. Owen packed his bag, then looked toward Cyrus one more time.

Cyrus noticed and waved lazily, as if shooing away a worried animal.

He was not especially afraid.

This was not the first time someone had tried to cause trouble for him. Back in a cramped place like a bathroom, even after someone took the first move, he could still find a way to respond. In an open area, the bigger problem would be making sure he did not strike too hard.

He did not like creating conflict.

That did not mean he was afraid of it.

If he could not handle something directly, he could call someone. He had learned quite a bit about calling for backup since entering human society. Teachers, police, managers, neighbors, dangerous women with too much interest in his well-being, and strange nurses who offered discounted medicine all existed within reach if he chose the right excuse.

The human world loved systems.

Cyrus was learning to use them.

What he did not notice was Faye stopping at the classroom door before leaving.

She looked back at him through the loose curtain of hair near her forehead. No one saw enough of her eyes to read the emotion there.

For her, even standing beside him normally and facing trouble together felt like something distant.

Cyrus finished roughly half the packet before the time became impossible to ignore.

He still had work at The Full Moon Lounge.

After packing his notebook and the remaining pages, he picked up his bag and left the school. The evening air had cooled nicely, and the sky over Grayhaven had begun slipping toward a muted blue-gray. Students gathered near cars, buses, and the sidewalk. A few parents waited by the curb. The school’s front gates opened toward the street, where the city carried on with its usual indifference.

Cyrus had barely walked fifty yards from the gate when a voice called from behind him.

It was not even his name.

Just a sharp sound meant to make him turn.

He turned anyway.

The girl who had led the confrontation stood on the sidewalk with two boys beside her. Both wore uniforms from another school. One had the kind of handsome face that likely made him believe every conversation would eventually make room for him.

The girl folded her arms and laughed.

"I thought you were going to hide in school until tomorrow."

Cyrus said nothing.

The better-looking boy stepped forward with an easy grin.

"Hey, man. I heard you had some problem with my girlfriend."

As he spoke, he reached out, aiming to drape an arm around Cyrus’s shoulders like they were friends or like physical closeness would make control easier.

Cyrus stepped back without hesitation.

The boy’s arm met empty air.

"Lead the way," Cyrus said.

The grin stiffened.

Cyrus did not understand why people insisted on talking so much before starting something. If they wanted to fight, they should fight. If they wanted to threaten him, they should at least be efficient.

After all, when this good brother’s fist landed on the other boy’s head later, he doubted the boy would still feel friendly.

The boy’s expression turned awkward for a moment, as if Cyrus had refused the part of the script where he was supposed to flinch, argue, or pretend not to understand what was happening.

The other boy looked him over.

This gloomy student did not look impressive.

He did, however, seem strangely bold.

Cyrus followed them without resistance.

They led him away from the main street and into an alley between two buildings. It was not too narrow, which was considerate of them. Wide enough to move. Wide enough to see who was standing where.

Five more boys waited inside, along with two other girls.

Cyrus looked around, noting the walls, the exit behind him, the open space, and the number of people who had decided this was a good idea.

Then he spoke calmly.

"Before anyone starts, does anyone want to leave?"