Chapter 84: An Encounter Around the Corner
Chapter 84: Chapter 84: An Encounter Around the Corner
Chapter 84: An Encounter Around the Corner
Audra Sloane stood inside the ring of roses without touching any of them.
The boy in front of her held his bouquet so tightly that several stems had bent beneath his fingers. Students gathered around the fountain, whispering behind their hands and pretending they had not slowed down specifically to watch.
Audra had seen this scene too many times.
A confession appeared every few weeks. Sometimes it happened in a hallway after class. Sometimes someone waited near her locker with a gift bag or a handwritten note. Once, a girl from another grade had cornered her near the library and tried to convince Audra that they were destined to understand each other.
The details changed.
The feeling never did.
She did not understand why people kept trying. They knew almost nothing about her beyond what they saw in class, yet they approached with the confidence of someone who believed he had found the answer to a question nobody else had noticed.
The boy standing before her was not even a close acquaintance.
They had exchanged a few polite words in the past. He had helped carry equipment after a school event once. He had also held the door for her during a rainy morning in September.
Apparently, that had been enough for him to decide she might be waiting for him.
Audra found the logic exhausting.
"I really, really like you," he said again, his voice growing louder as the silence stretched. "Would you go out with me?"
She did not answer right away.
Her attention had shifted beyond him.
Through the crowd near the front gate, she saw a figure moving toward the school building with a sandwich in one hand and a bag slung over one shoulder. Cyrus Calder kept his head lowered as usual, dark hair hiding the face that had caused far more trouble than he seemed to realize.
He did not stop.
He did not turn around.
He passed the crowded fountain without sparing Audra a second glance.
The lack of interest should not have mattered.
Audra had never needed strangers to look at her. She had spent most of her life trying to avoid it. Yet seeing Cyrus walk away while another boy stood surrounded by roses in front of her stirred an unfamiliar irritation beneath her ribs.
He did not care.
He had seen the crowd, recognized what was happening, and decided it had nothing to do with him.
Audra watched his back disappear into the stream of students.
A faint change crossed her expression before she smoothed it away.
The boy noticed.
His breath caught.
For one hopeful second, he seemed to believe that he had reached her. He probably thought the pause, the slight shift in her face, and the fact that she had not immediately rejected him meant he had done something none of the others could.
Audra looked back at him.
"I am sorry," she said. "I do not feel that way."
The boy’s expression collapsed.
Audra stepped around the roses and continued toward the building without waiting for an argument. Behind her, the crowd began breaking apart in small groups, already moving on to the next topic.
A few people offered the boy awkward words of comfort. Others gave him sympathetic looks while pretending they had not been watching the entire time.
Most of them had seen this outcome coming.
Audra had turned down enough people that the school had started treating it like weather. A new confession might draw attention for ten minutes, but by lunch, people would be discussing the Fall Festival, upcoming tests, and whether the cafeteria had ruined the pizza again.
Cyrus reached the second floor before the crowd near the fountain finally began to disperse.
From the windows along the hallway, he could still see students drifting away from the entrance. Some wore expressions of mild disappointment. Others seemed amused. A few looked impressed that the boy had tried at all.
Audra was difficult to approach.
That much was obvious.
Cyrus had heard her name more often than anyone else’s since transferring to St. Alder. Students talked about her grades, her family, her looks, the way teachers trusted her, and the people who tried unsuccessfully to get her attention.
The entire thing sounded tiring.
He understood the appeal of not being recognized.
Faye blended into the background at school for her own reasons. Cyrus did it because attention created questions, and questions had a habit of turning into trouble. His hair, glasses, posture, and habit of keeping his voice low gave him a life where most people did not remember him after a conversation.
That was comfortable.
If he had more money, it would be even better.
He entered the classroom and took his usual seat near the back.
The room carried the familiar noise of a school morning. Someone argued about a homework answer near the windows. A few students compared their Fall Festival ideas in voices that were already too loud for the hour. Owen Keats had not arrived yet, leaving his seat empty beside Cyrus.
Faye sat in front of him, her posture straight as she arranged her books.
Cyrus had barely set down his bag when she turned around.
Without saying anything at first, Faye placed a paperback manga volume on his desk.
"I remembered you had not finished this one," she said. "You can read it between classes if you want."
Cyrus picked it up.
It was the same volume he had been reading at her house. A small bookmark rested between the pages, tucked precisely where he had stopped before lunch.
"You remembered the page too?"
"I noticed where you put it down," Faye said. "When you get close to finishing it, tell me. I can bring the next volume."
Cyrus looked down at the book again.
Faye had remembered the page.
That was a small thing. It should have been a small thing. Yet it made him unexpectedly grateful.
"Thank you, Faye."
"You do not need to thank me," she replied. "Books should be read."
Cyrus ran his thumb lightly over the cover.
He had spent too much time recently thinking about cameras, personal alarms, medicine, rent, and how quickly a woman could turn a quiet apartment into a dangerous place.
A borrowed manga with a bookmark felt almost absurdly kind.
Before Faye could turn back around, he asked, "Do you like strawberry or mango more?"
Faye stopped.
The question had clearly caught her off guard.
She opened her mouth to answer, but the classroom noise dropped at the same moment.
Audra had entered.
The shift in the room was immediate. Conversations softened. Several students looked up. Even people who pretended not to care always noticed when Audra came through the door.
She moved to her seat with the same calm posture she wore in every public space.
Her eyes swept across the room once.
Then they settled briefly on Cyrus and Faye.
Cyrus had the manga in his hands. Faye had turned halfway around in her seat, still preparing to answer his question. Neither of them looked particularly aware that anyone else had noticed.
Audra’s attention stayed there a fraction longer than necessary.
Then she went to her desk.
The classroom noise resumed.
Faye seemed to remember the question a beat late.
"I prefer strawberry," she said quietly.
Cyrus nodded.
"Strawberry it is."
He did not explain further.
Faye looked as though she considered asking why, then chose not to. She turned back toward the front of the room and opened her book.
Cyrus set the manga beside his notebook.
Across the classroom, Audra’s hair shifted slightly as she adjusted her posture.
He looked up at the movement, but she was already facing forward.
The first two classes passed quickly.
During every break, students returned to the same topic: the Fall Festival.
Their class had not settled on an idea yet. Some wanted a food booth. Others argued for a game stall. Someone suggested a haunted-house setup, which immediately became a fight over who would stay late to clean it afterward.
Cyrus listened without joining in.
He did not understand why anyone would volunteer for extra work when school already required enough of it. Still, the festival sounded interesting. There would be food, crowds, decorated classrooms, games, and enough activity that no one would pay attention to a quiet student standing near the edge of things.
That seemed promising.
Between conversations, he read another section of the manga.
The story had reached the point where the protagonist had finally stopped losing every fight through stubbornness alone. Cyrus became so absorbed in the training arc that he almost forgot the bell had rung.
He managed to close the book before the teacher looked his way.
Next period was Daphne Whitlock’s class.
Cyrus considered bringing the manga with him.
It would be safer than making eye contact.
By the time the third class ended, he had been sitting too long. He left the classroom and headed downstairs toward the vending machines.
The drink options were uninspiring.
He chose a bottle with a green label because the picture on the front looked vaguely like fruit. The machine swallowed five dollars before dropping the bottle into the tray with an insultingly loud thud.
Cyrus twisted the cap open and took a drink.
The flavor was awful.
It tasted like someone had pressed a leaf through a blender, added sugar, and expected gratitude.
Cyrus stared at the bottle.
Five dollars.
He had spent five dollars on something that tasted like diluted tree sap.
A week ago, he would have looked at the price and walked away. He had become less careful since receiving the academic award and hearing Daphne promise she would cover the rent.
That was not a good sign.
Money disappeared fastest when people started believing there would always be more of it later.
Cyrus took another unwilling sip because throwing it away would make the five dollars feel even worse.
Then he headed back toward the classroom wing.
The corridor near the stairwell was quieter than the main hall. Sunlight reached across the floor from a row of tall windows, and the sound of students passed through the space in distant bursts.
Cyrus was nearing the corner when he heard someone speak.
"I will never like you."
The words came from around the bend.
A sharp snap followed.
Cyrus slowed.
The sound did not belong to a locker closing or a book hitting the floor. It was too clean, too deliberate, and it made something in the back of his mind tighten.
He stepped around the corner.
Audra stood near the wall with the boy from the fountain facing her.
The boy looked different from earlier.
At the entrance, he had been flushed and tense, his hands shaking around a bouquet of roses. Now his expression was strangely calm. His shoulders had settled. Even his breathing seemed measured.
Cyrus did not know him well enough to say exactly what had changed.
He only knew the difference felt wrong.
The boy lowered his head in a quick bow.
"I am sorry," he said loudly. "I caused you trouble for no reason. I will not bother you again."
Audra did not answer.
The boy turned and hurried down the hall.
He passed Cyrus without looking up, moving with the embarrassed urgency of someone who wanted to get as far away from the scene as possible.
Cyrus glanced toward Audra.
The ring was on her hand.
Its pink stone caught the light near her fingers.
His stomach tightened.
He had seen that color before.
He had felt the cold that came afterward.
Cyrus did not want to be involved.
He had a terrible drink in one hand, a manga waiting in his bag, and a class with Daphne coming up soon. That was more than enough trouble for one morning.
He took one careful step back.
Audra moved before he could leave.
Her hand closed around his wrist.
The grip was not strong, but it was firm enough to stop him.
Cyrus turned toward her.
Audra’s expression had been composed only seconds earlier. Now her eyes held a strange, heated focus that made the quiet hallway feel far less empty than it should have.
Without releasing him, she pulled him around the corner.