Chapter 39: Chapter 39: Off-Campus Activity, Part Three

Chapter 39: Off-Campus Activity, Part Three

Cyrus could not stop thinking about it.

Owen and Iris had known each other since elementary school. They lived near each other. They spoke with the easy rhythm of people who had been in and out of each other’s lives for years. Owen was not ugly, not broke, not cruel, and not so socially hopeless that no one could talk to him.

So why had he ended up obsessed with an online relationship instead?

That was strange.

Owen seemed to notice Cyrus’s confusion, because he shifted the firewood in his arms and sighed like a man carrying a deep, tragic history instead of a bundle of dry sticks.

"Honestly, if I had your calm attitude, I probably would’ve had a girlfriend by now."

Cyrus glanced at him. "Why are you saying that?"

Owen’s expression turned mournful in a very practiced way, like this was a subject he had suffered through many times.

"Back in middle school, I actually dated a girl for a while. I thought everything was fine. Then one day, she found me out of nowhere, slapped me, called me a jerk, and walked off."

Cyrus paused with a piece of wood in his hand. "That actually happened to you?"

"Yeah. The slap hurt, so I panicked."

Cyrus gave him a quiet look.

Owen immediately defended himself. "I didn’t hit her back or anything. I mean I panicked because I wanted to fix things. I chased after her and tried to explain, but it was like she already knew what I was going to say. Then she kicked me too."

Cyrus looked at him for another long second.

That did not sound like a breakup. That sounded like a small, targeted ambush.

Owen sighed harder. "After that, I dated a few other girls. None of them lasted either. The endings were different, but somehow they all turned into a disaster."

His confusion sounded real.

Cyrus studied him for a moment. Owen did not seem like he was lying. He also did not seem like he knew where the problem was, which made the situation even more interesting.

"Cyrus," Owen said, his eyes full of helpless sincerity, "do you think I’ll ever meet real love?"

"There’s no reason you couldn’t."

Owen waited for more.

Cyrus did not add more.

After a few seconds, Owen’s expression became even more pained. "That’s all?"

"You asked if you could meet real love. I said you could."

"I thought you’d give me a little more comfort than that."

"You should stay alive and keep trying. Both parts matter."

Owen stared at him. "That somehow sounded comforting and scary at the same time."

"It was meant to be useful."

"See, this is exactly what I mean." Owen shook his head with a tragic kind of envy. "You say things like that and somehow don’t look embarrassed at all. If I had that kind of face and that kind of attitude, I would be unstoppable."

Cyrus did not reply.

Owen only knew the surface of the matter. He had seen Cyrus without the school disguise, so he understood that Cyrus’s hidden appearance was a choice, but that did not mean he understood why Cyrus kept it hidden.

If any random boy in their class had Cyrus’s real face, he probably would have caused trouble before lunch. Someone would fall in love, someone would get jealous, someone would make a dramatic confession, and someone else might eventually end up in a hospital.

Cyrus had no interest in becoming the center of that kind of mess.

The sun remained clear and brutal overhead. The trees made the heat bearable, but once they stepped out of the shade with their arms full of wood, the air pressed down again.

By the time they had collected enough firewood and started back toward the cooking area, Owen’s forehead was covered in a fine layer of sweat. His breathing had grown heavier too.

Cyrus carried about the same amount, but his steps stayed steady.

Owen noticed. "You’re stronger than you look."

Cyrus’s fingers tightened slightly around the wood.

"That kind of thing is hard to see from the outside," he said.

He had gotten too comfortable.

The field trip was more fun than he had expected. The bus ride, the outdoor cooking stations, the woods, the strange little structure of a school activity that pretended to be survival without actually being survival, all of it had pulled his attention away from caution.

He had even forgotten about the heat for a while.

That was not good.

Frostborn bodies were different from human bodies. His strength, stamina, cold tolerance, and recovery were all slightly wrong by human standards. None of that was flashy enough to expose him on its own, but the wrong person noticing too many small details could become a problem.

He needed to remember that having fun did not mean he was safe.

By the time they returned, the activity area was full of heat, cicada noise, and the smell of washed vegetables.

The site had decent shade over the cooking stations, but the air beneath it still carried the heavy warmth of late summer. Students moved in and out of the rows of counters, some confident, some confused, some already holding knives in ways that made nearby adults nervous.

At their station, the three girls had finished deciding who would do what.

Iris took charge of washing the ingredients. She worked carefully, checking every potato and carrot before passing them along.

Audra stood beside her and put on an apron. Iris was trying to tie her own behind her back and fumbling with the strings, so Audra stepped closer and tied it for her with a neat motion.

Then Audra tied her own apron without any trouble.

When her attention shifted to Faye, she found that Faye had already tied hers. The movement had been quiet, quick, and almost casual. Faye stood at the prep table with her head slightly lowered, her thick glasses hiding most of her expression.

Iris washed the vegetables, then handed them off.

Audra and Faye began cutting.

Audra handled the knife with calm control. Her cuts were clean, even, and unhurried, the kind of skill that did not come from a single school activity. She clearly knew enough about cooking to move without hesitation.

Faye was quieter, but her hands were just as capable. The ingredients in front of her turned into neat pieces with surprising speed. She did not show off, did not speak much, and did not seem aware of how efficient she looked.

After a short while, Iris’s washing speed became the slowest part of the process.

The two girls at the cutting boards were evenly matched, but the attention around them was not equal.

Several students drifted near their station with no real reason to be there. Most of them were watching Audra.

When Cyrus and Owen came back with the firewood, they passed a few students pretending to chat nearby.

"Being in Audra’s group must be nice."

"Owen got lucky."

"Don’t forget the other guy who somehow made it in."

"He sits near Owen, so that probably explains it."

"That luck is ridiculous."

Cyrus heard them.

Some of them were from his own class, and some seemed to be from other classes. The meaning was obvious either way.

Owen’s expression shifted. He looked ready to say something, but he stopped after seeing that Cyrus did not seem bothered.

Cyrus truly did not care.

He was far more interested in how the curry would taste.

They brought the firewood back to the station. A few students were still hanging around to watch Audra cook, but one of the instructors came by and scattered them before they could turn the whole thing into an audience event.

Owen knelt down to start the fire.

Cyrus helped set down the wood, then quietly moved a little farther from the firebox.

He liked warmth when it came from food. He did not like heat when it came from flames, sunlight, or anything that made his body start calculating survival.

Audra and Faye finished the food prep together. Iris checked the rice, rinsed it again, and set it near the cooking area.

When Audra picked up the spatula, more students slowed down nearby. A few looked like they had forgotten their own groups existed.

Daphne Whitlock, one of the teachers supervising the activity, stepped over before the crowd could gather again.

She wore a practical outfit for the trip, but somehow still looked polished enough to make the outdoor setting seem slightly underdressed around her. Her gold-rimmed glasses caught the light as she glanced over the station.

Her attention moved over the five students, then settled on the prepared ingredients.

"What are you making?"

"Curry," Iris said.

Daphne nodded. Her gaze shifted next and landed on Cyrus.

He stood farther from the stove than the others, with his attention fixed toward the prep area.

From Daphne’s angle, it looked like he was watching Audra.

Audra noticed the direction of his attention too.

The apron was not especially pretty. It was a plain school-issued apron, useful more than flattering. Even so, it pulled in slightly at the waist, and Audra knew exactly how that changed the impression of her figure.

So he had noticed.

That thought gave her a small, quiet sense of satisfaction.

Then her attention moved to Faye, who wore the same plain apron with no effort at all. The loose uniform had hidden it before, but the apron made Faye’s waistline and posture much harder to ignore.

Audra’s expression did not change.

Cyrus, meanwhile, was not thinking about either of their waists.

He was watching Audra’s hands.

Why was she keeping the heat so low? Wouldn’t higher heat make the food cook faster? Why did each step need to happen in that order? Why did cooking involve so much waiting when everyone was already hungry?

If he knew how to cook, he would have been tempted to take over.

Unfortunately, he did not know how to cook, which meant he had no right to complain.

Daphne pushed her glasses up slightly and looked at the group again.

"So all of you know how to cook?"

"I help at home sometimes," Iris said.

Audra nodded.

Owen and Cyrus shook their heads at the same time.

Faye became the last person everyone looked at.

She lowered her eyes behind her glasses and said, "My parents are busy with work most of the time, so I usually take care of my younger brother and sister."

Cyrus immediately remembered sitting in Faye’s living room, holding a game controller while her younger siblings leaned into the race on the screen like their bodies could steer the cars.

That game had been fun.

It was a shame Faye had not kept him for dinner that day. Then he would have known what her cooking tasted like.

Daphne did not comment further. After checking that their station was under control, she moved on to the next group.

Audra added the first ingredients into the pan. The smell began to change almost at once, turning from raw vegetables and oil into something warmer.

After a while, she looked around the group.

"Can everyone handle spice?"

"I’m fine with it," Iris said.

Faye shook her head slightly. "I can’t eat too much."

Owen shook his head too. "I can handle a little, but don’t trust me with anything serious."

Audra’s attention came to Cyrus last.

For a few beats, he seemed to still be watching her hands.

Then he answered a little later than everyone else.

"I can handle spice too."