Chapter 34: Activity Groups

"Groups of five," the homeroom teacher said from the front of the room. "Choose your own teams, then have the class president bring me the list."

Even after the announcement ended, Cyrus still had no idea what was happening.

Groups of five for what? An off-campus activity doing what? Why had everyone else heard about this while he had apparently missed the entire setup?

There was still a little time before first period. The homeroom teacher left the class officers at the front of the room to organize the list, which meant Owen Keats and another student Cyrus only knew by name were now standing beside the teacher’s desk.

The other student was Iris Wexley, the class president.

Cyrus did not know her well. He knew she was busy often, wore glasses, and had the kind of neat handwriting teachers liked. He also knew her last name because teachers said it whenever they needed something handled properly. Beyond that, she belonged to the part of the classroom Cyrus usually let pass around him like background noise.

Iris lifted the clipboard in her hands and raised her voice over the low buzz of students already turning toward their friends. "Five people per group. We have enough for exactly five groups, so anyone who does not choose a team will be assigned somewhere."

That worked on the room immediately.

Chairs scraped against the floor. People leaned across aisles. Someone waved from the front row. A few students began counting on their fingers, making sure they had enough people before anyone else stole a friend away.

Cyrus sat in the back and watched the entire thing unfold with the distant calm of a person observing an unfamiliar social ritual.

Not far away, Audra Sloane became the center of attention almost at once.

Three different students approached her in the span of a minute. One asked with a practiced smile. One tried to sound casual and failed. Another girl looked hopeful enough that Cyrus almost felt bad for her before Audra lightly shook her head.

Audra pointed toward the front of the room.

Iris glanced up from the clipboard at exactly the right time. "Audra is already in my group. You should find another team before the spots fill up."

A thin wave of disappointment moved through the classroom.

It was not only the boys. A few girls looked just as regretful, which made sense. Audra’s grades were excellent, her manners were controlled, and her presence had the strange power of making an ordinary school activity look more important than it should have been.

Cyrus looked away before watching her became too obvious.

At the front of his row, Faye Larkin had not moved either.

The two of them, one behind the other, were in almost the same situation. Everyone else had slipped into little circles of five while they remained in their seats like furniture nobody had decided where to place.

Cyrus did not mind. Being forgotten by a crowd was one of the few useful gifts a crowd could offer.

Owen noticed him first.

He said something quietly to Iris, then left the front of the room and came over with his usual easy expression.

"Cyrus, did you find a group yet?" Owen asked. "You can join mine."

"Who is in it?"

"Me, Iris, and Audra so far."

"That works for me."

Owen’s face brightened at once. "Great, that helps a lot. Then we only need one more person."

Cyrus had no strong reason to refuse. He and Owen were actual friends, at least by Cyrus’s current understanding of the word. Audra was already tutoring him, which made her a known risk instead of an unknown one. Iris was the class president, and class presidents were usually useful during school activities because they knew what was happening before everyone else did.

Owen turned and scanned the room.

His attention landed on Faye.

Faye sat very straight in the seat ahead of Cyrus, her heavy glasses in place and her long bangs hiding most of her face. She did not look around, did not try to catch anyone’s attention, and did not seem prepared to ask for help.

Owen paused with visible uncertainty.

He was friendly, but even friendly people had limits when they were not familiar with someone.

Before he could decide, Iris came over with the clipboard hugged to her chest.

"Faye," Iris said, her voice polite and clear. "Do you have a group yet?"

Faye did not answer immediately. After a short pause, she shook her head.

The little circles around the classroom kept talking, but several students were watching the back corner now. Cyrus could feel the attention gathering, even if no one said anything directly.

Iris adjusted her glasses with one finger. She was not striking in the same way Audra was, but she had a tidy, composed look that suited her position. Her loose braid rested over one shoulder, and the faint freckles across her face kept her from looking too severe. The more Cyrus looked, the more he understood why teachers trusted her with lists and announcements.

"Do you want to join our group?" Iris asked.

Faye lifted her head slightly. "I can join you. Thank you, Iris."

"I appreciate it," Iris said. "I hope we work well together tomorrow."

Faye gave another small nod.

Iris had expected more difficulty than that. Faye rarely spoke in class, and when she did, her voice was so quiet it made people lean closer. She spent most days with her face buried behind her bangs and glasses, giving off a still, shadowed impression that made classmates unsure whether approaching her would be rude.

This version of Faye was polite enough to make Iris relax.

Then Iris glanced at Cyrus.

Cyrus, to her eyes, looked dazed.

Since she had just placed him in a group with Audra, Iris came to a very simple conclusion. He must have been stunned by the idea of working with Audra tomorrow and was doing his best not to show it.

That fit his image too well.

Cyrus looked like the standard gloomy web-serial boy who would stay up late reading dramatic scenes and then kick his blankets around because a fictional heroine had smiled at the male lead.

Iris lowered her eyes to the clipboard before the thought could make her expression change.

Once the groups were settled, she returned to the front, reorganized the room with impressive efficiency, and left shortly after turning the list in.

Cyrus remained at his desk, still carrying the sluggish weight of sleep.

Even after the group was formed, he still had not figured out what the activity actually was.

Owen sat down beside him, and Cyrus finally asked, "What kind of off-campus activity is this?"

Owen stared at him. "You really do not know?"

Cyrus looked at him without guilt. "I missed the explanation."

"I remember you being awake when a teacher mentioned it."

"Being awake and receiving information are not always the same thing."

Owen laughed under his breath. "That is fair enough. Tomorrow afternoon we are doing a cooperative cooking activity."

Cyrus blinked at that. "We are cooking?"

"Yeah. That is basically the whole thing. The school arranged an off-campus kitchen space, and each group has to make something together."

That immediately sounded better than most school activities.

Cooking meant ingredients. Ingredients meant food. Even if he did not get to eat much, he could at least watch the process, and watching people turn raw things into edible things was already better than being trapped in a classroom listening to math.

"What happens if someone cannot cook?" Cyrus asked.

Owen lifted a hand as if calming a nervous customer. "There are five people in each group. At least one person has to know what they are doing."

"That sounds optimistic."

"Besides, Iris is in our group," Owen said. "We will be fine."

Cyrus did not know why Iris solved the issue, but Owen sounded confident enough that Cyrus accepted it.

For the first time since hearing the words off-campus activity, he began looking forward to tomorrow.

When the lunch bell rang, Cyrus’s body moved before his thoughts fully caught up.

He followed the familiar route to the campus snack bar with the reliability of a machine that had been built for low-cost survival. A packaged roll and a sweet yogurt drink made a simple lunch, but simple did not mean bad. The roll was filling, the drink was cold enough to make the heat less offensive, and the shade outside the building gave him a place to stand without being cooked by the September sun.

If a cloud had drifted over the sun at that moment, Cyrus might have considered the meal close to perfect.

He stared at the bright sky and imagined, for a useless few seconds, being able to pull clouds into place the way witches did in bedtime stories. The thought pleased him until reality returned with the same cruel directness as the sun on the back of his neck.

No clouds answered him.

Cyrus finished the yogurt drink, threw the empty bottle away, and headed back inside.

The stairwell was cooler than the courtyard, which made the climb almost pleasant. He had just reached the lower landing when Audra appeared above him.

Sunlight spilled through the tall window behind her, leaving her face in partial shadow while outlining her figure with a pale edge of brightness. Students passing nearby slowed for no practical reason. Audra had that effect. She did not have to do anything dramatic. Existing in the right light was enough to make people notice.

She looked down and found him at the base of the stairs.

That saved her from having to search for him in the classroom.

"After lunch," Audra said, keeping her voice low enough that it did not carry far. "Meet me in Room 405 again, if that works for you."

"That works for me."

The exchange lasted only a few seconds as they passed each other on the stairs.

It was still enough for a couple of students nearby to look at Cyrus with sudden interest.

Pretty people were like moving spotlights. Wherever they went, attention followed. Cyrus understood that better than most. It was the main reason he hid his own appearance on campus.

Audra had not been looking for him openly in the classroom. That could have been intentional. Calling him out in front of everyone would drag more attention toward him than he wanted.

The stubborn human had a considerate side after all.

Cyrus gave her that much credit as he continued up the stairs.

He did not notice the faint attention that followed him from behind.