Chapter 81: The Personal Alarm
Chapter 81: Chapter 81: The Personal Alarm
Chapter 81: The Personal Alarm
Lunch had barely begun before Lena’s attempts at helping turned Cyrus’s plate into a problem.
She sat beside him with a fork in one hand and an expression of intense concentration, adding another piece of roasted chicken to his plate every time he managed to clear a little space.
"Lena," Cyrus said, catching her wrist before she could add more potatoes, "you should give some to your sister too."
Lena blinked at him.
Cyrus picked up a piece of chicken with his own fork and leaned toward Faye, who sat across from him at the table.
Faye noticed what he meant before he reached her. She lifted her bowl slightly beneath his hand so he would not have to stretch across the table.
"Thank you, Cyrus," she said.
"You really do not need to thank me."
Faye smiled in that quiet way she had, one that never made him feel as though he owed her something for it.
Lena watched the exchange with the seriousness of someone learning an important rule. Then she carefully selected a piece of food from the serving plate and placed it in Faye’s bowl.
Faye’s expression softened.
"That was very thoughtful," she told her.
Lena sat a little straighter.
A few seconds later, she turned back toward Cyrus and held up her fork.
"You should give me some too."
Cyrus nearly laughed.
"You learned the lesson pretty quickly."
Lena waited without lowering the fork.
Cyrus gave her a small piece of chicken, and she accepted it with complete satisfaction before returning to her meal.
Faye was far too gentle.
That was the conclusion Cyrus reached as he watched her thank Lena, then quietly refill everyone’s drinks. She did not make a big deal out of anything. She did not turn kindness into a reason to demand more. She simply accepted what was offered and made the people around her feel as though they had done something worthwhile.
Daphne could learn from her.
The thought appeared automatically, followed by the realization that Daphne would probably hear it as an insult.
That made it more accurate.
Lunch continued in the same unhurried way. Faye had made enough food for all of them, and the table stayed lively because Miles could not stop talking about the game he planned to win next time. Cyrus had no intention of letting him win, but he let the boy talk anyway.
After they finished eating, Faye brought out warm mint tea in small mugs.
Miles copied the way she held his cup with both hands, making himself look far more serious than he had while playing. Lena did the same, though she spent more time watching Cyrus than drinking.
The four of them sat together in the soft, ordinary quiet that followed a meal.
Two adults, two children, a table full of empty plates, and sunlight reaching through the living-room curtains.
Cyrus had not realized how much he missed this kind of calm until he was sitting inside it.
Faye smiled more openly than she did at school.
The sight made the room feel even warmer.
By the time the clock edged toward early afternoon, Cyrus knew he should leave.
He still needed to find a personal alarm, and he wanted to get back to his apartment before Daphne decided he had been gone long enough to start checking the hallway cameras every ten minutes.
Miles had already returned from visiting the neighborhood friend he had gone to see earlier. He had come back in time for lunch without being told twice, which Cyrus found impressive.
Then again, with Faye cooking at home, returning on time made perfect sense.
Cyrus stood beside the couch and gave Miles a small wave.
"You should keep getting better before next time."
Miles frowned. "I was getting better."
"You were getting better at losing in different ways."
"That is not fair."
"You have plenty of time to practice."
Lena climbed off the couch and stood beside Faye.
"You have to come back," she said.
Cyrus looked down at her.
"I will come back when Faye invites me again."
Faye’s face warmed slightly.
"You are welcome here whenever you want," she said.
Cyrus nodded.
He looked from Faye to Miles and Lena, then gave all three of them another small wave.
"See you later."
Miles waved back enthusiastically. Lena copied him with both hands. Faye lifted her hand more slowly, but her expression stayed soft.
Cyrus stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him.
Once he was gone, the house fell into an odd sort of quiet.
Miles yawned first.
Lena followed almost immediately.
The two yawns came one after the other, and Faye had to press her lips together to keep from doing the same.
The children had spent the morning playing, talking, eating, and hovering around Cyrus as though he had appeared specifically for their entertainment. Now that the visit was over, the excitement had drained out of them all at once.
"You two should take a nap," Faye said.
Neither child argued.
Miles headed toward his room with the heavy steps of someone trying to act awake. Lena followed more slowly, rubbing at one eye with the heel of her hand.
Within minutes, both doors were closed.
Faye remained alone in the living room.
She sat in the same spot she had occupied while Cyrus played games with Miles. The television screen had gone dark. The controllers rested neatly on the coffee table. Across from her, the couch cushion where Cyrus had been sitting still held the faint impression of his weight.
For a moment, she could almost hear his voice again.
"Faye, do you want to try playing too?"
She had told him she was not very good at games.
His answer had come without teasing.
"Then next time, we can find something you actually like."
The memory brought a quiet smile to her face.
Then the smile faded.
Next time.
When would she have time for that?
There was always something waiting for her. Meals to make. Schoolwork. Her brother and sister. The small responsibilities that never looked important from the outside but filled nearly every hour once she got home.
Cyrus had invited her so naturally, as though there would always be another afternoon, another game, another chance to sit together without anyone needing something from her.
Faye lowered her eyes.
She wanted to believe him.
Across town, Daphne Whitlock sat in the gaming chair at the small desk in apartment 202, halfheartedly working through lesson plans while the hallway camera feed played on the monitor beside her.
The work in front of her had stopped holding her attention hours ago.
Every few minutes, she checked the camera again.
The screen showed the third-floor hallway outside apartment 203. Empty carpet. Closed doors. The occasional neighbor passing through with groceries or laundry.
Nothing useful.
Then Cyrus appeared.
He came into view from the stairwell, dressed in the same low-profile clothes he wore whenever he wanted to disappear into the background. He unlocked his door and stepped into apartment 203.
Daphne sat up immediately.
He had been gone for most of the day. She had expected him to stay out until evening, maybe even go to work early just to avoid being near her.
Instead, he was home.
That meant she had a chance to talk to him.
A proper talk, she told herself.
Daphne pushed back from the desk and crossed the apartment, then caught her reflection in the full-length mirror near the bedroom door.
Her hair had come loose around her shoulders. She wore plain lounge clothes, nothing especially deliberate, but she still smoothed the fabric at her waist and tucked a few strands back into place.
The mirror gave her an answer she liked well enough.
She left apartment 202 smiling.
On the way across the hall, Daphne went over the words she had prepared.
Cory, you would not want anyone at school to find out what you can do, would you?
It was not her best line.
It was also effective.
Daphne knocked.
The door opened almost immediately.
She stopped.
Cory stood in the doorway.
His white hair fell around his face, and his smaller body was wrapped in oversized clothes that had clearly belonged to Cyrus a few moments earlier. He did not look frightened. He did not look angry either.
He simply held his arms out toward her.
Daphne’s thoughts stalled.
Had he decided he was wrong? Was he trying to make peace? Did he finally understand that fighting her would only make things harder?
The questions barely had time to form.
Daphne picked him up.
The response was too quick, and part of her knew it. Cory was cool against her arms, tense but not pulling away. She held him closer than she needed to, then carried him straight into apartment 202 before he could change his mind.
Cyrus’s apartment might have a hidden camera by now.
The thought had occurred to her more than once since he left that morning. Cyrus was wary. He had tried recording her at school. He was not going to keep walking into traps forever without attempting something in return.
Daphne shut her own door behind them.
This time, she did not lock it.
She carried Cory into her bedroom and set him down on top of the neatly made bed.
The little room looked almost harmless in daylight. Her tablet sat on the nightstand. A book lay facedown beside it. The curtains were half open, letting afternoon light spill across the floorboards.
Daphne stood at the foot of the bed.
"Do you know what you did wrong?"
Cory lowered his eyes.
"I do not know what you mean."
The answer sounded stubborn enough that Daphne nearly laughed.
Even in this form, Cyrus refused to make things easy.
Daphne folded her arms.
"You disappeared for most of the day. You ignored me. You made me wait outside your door, and you did not even give me a chance to talk."
Cory did not answer.
Daphne took one step closer.
"Since you do not understand," she said, her voice taking on a false seriousness, "then I will have to make sure you do."
The first part of the sentence sounded firm.
The last part lost some of its shape when amusement slipped into her voice.
Daphne reached toward him.
Cory moved first.
His small hand came out from behind his back holding a bright yellow personal alarm. A plastic pull-pin ring hung from one side, caught between his fingers.
He lifted it slightly.
The motion was calm.
That made it worse.
Daphne stopped where she was.
The alarm was small, cheap, and perfectly capable of turning the room upside down. One pull would fill the apartment with a shriek loud enough for neighbors to hear through the walls. If anyone came over, Daphne would have to explain why a small white-haired boy was sitting in her bedroom and why he had felt the need to set off an emergency alarm.
Her expression changed before she could hide it.
Cory narrowed his eyes.
"Ms. Whitlock," he asked, "why did you stop moving?"
Daphne stayed still.
The advantage had shifted so quickly that she almost resented him for it.
Almost.
"Can we talk this through?" she asked.
Cory looked at the alarm in his hand, then back at her.
"You can talk it through."
A spark of hope appeared in Daphne’s face.
Cory did not give it time to settle.
"Go buy me some snacks."