25. Chapter 25
Chapter 25
Cedric
I f I had a penny for every time I’ve had dinner alone, I’d have a rather measly pile of pennies.
Dinner with my brother had always been the one family gathering I actually wanted to be present for–in part, though not only, because my father would not be there.
Which is why it feels so odd, biting on my fried take-away ferns, sipping still water from from a paper cup, and sitting on a bench where the paint has peeled off so thoroughly I can see the permanent marker beneath it.
Just last night, I was having the most delightful plate of pasta in the company of the loveliest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on, the only girl I’ve ever felt I could build something with–and here I am now.
As I take the last bite of my sad meal, I glance at my pocket, debating whether I should text Delilah, see how she’s doing. Granted, it didn’t look like the break-in at the shop rattled her that much; she seemed more worried about whatever impression I might have had about her and last night, which she shouldn’t be. Not ever. I fear she has severely underestimated my interest in her, otherwise there’d be no good reason for her to validate the preposterous idea that I am anything but smitten right back.
I look up at my surroundings, dabbing my fingers with a napkin, and can’t help feeling a little more at peace, taking in the view. The town is painted with the last sunrays of the day, and yet it feels like everyone is just getting started; the vendors are setting up their stalls for the night, smoke and sparks starting to rise.
I wonder if the townspeople realize how lucky they are to be able to call such an idyllic place home. During one of our meetings, when I felt emboldened to ask Myrta more about the town and how it copes with the supernatural, she told me–in a most coy manner, I might add–that the people have no true need to be afraid. I’m aware that there are some protocols involved in scenarios of possible danger, and though I don’t have access to them, Marcus will. Still, it’s mighty difficult to imagine it in any state of chaos.
The yelling of a small group of children playing tag or something like it, all around the fountain, catches my attention. I frown, because I don’t remember noticing a fountain in the square before, though I suppose I’d been too busy–or distracted–to do so. My thoughts inevitably stray to the first time Delilah and I spent time together, just the two of us. I ate those wonderful chestnuts that reminded me of mum, and felt the warmth of Delilah’s smile, knowing I put it there. I throw my empty box in the nearest bin and walk up to the fountain, though I barely reach it before a few ancient-looking ladies compliment my facial bone structure with a pinch to each cheek. If they hadn’t drained the blood out of me, I might have blushed. I never had grandmas to fuss over me–I suppose it’s not the worst thing imaginable.
When I reach out to feel the droplets of clear water spilling from the toad-shaped mouth of the fountain, a little kid nearly stumbles into my leg as he runs away from another yapping child, and apologizes profusely.
“Ezra, Jude! How many times do I have to–”
“It’s fine,” I say with a nod to Faye, whose hands are now resting on the second child’s–a little girl wearing denim dungarees–shoulders in a light grip.
“Campbell,” she says with a raised eyebrow. “The fountain doesn’t grant wishes.”
“And you are informing me because…?”
Faye shrugs while the child struggles to get free and giggles at the one that escaped. “You’ve got a bit of a kicked puppy thing going,” she says, gesturing vaguely to my figure. A mistake, because the girl escapes Faye’s grip and resumes her rounds around the fountain.
Faye grumbles, though doesn’t move to retrieve her again.
“I certainly do not.”
“And I don’t have three younger siblings that are gonna make my hair gray by the time I’m thirty.”
“Oh–these children are your siblings?”
“Do I look like a soccer mom to you? ”
“I suppose not.”
“Damn right,” Faye says with a head tilt.
“Is Delilah around here somewhere?” I change the subject, not even bothering to sound casual about it.
Faye shakes her head as she shoots a murderous look at her brother, who was pretending to launch himself into the fountain.
“If you smash your head, I’m not buying you a new one,” she says to him. Then to me, “She said she was going to bed early.”
“Is she alright?”
“Depends on your definition of alright,” she says, barely covering a yawn. “It’s been an eventful past few days.”
“Yeah,” I agree, unsure of what Faye knows exactly, though I suspect most of it, if not everything. “So she’s definitely sleeping.”
Faye raises a black eyebrow, crosses her arms. A challenge glints in her eyes.
“She said she was going to sleep.”
“Right,” I clear my throat, eyeing the square. “I’ll see you around, then.”
Faye makes a noncommittal sound, motioning for her buzzing siblings to grab her hands. “Come on, guys,” she says, shooting me a pointed look. “Gotta get that popcorn going.”
When I look up at the slowly darkening sky, a hazy half moon already glowing down on the square of this eccentric little town, I barely realize that my feet are taking me toward Delilah’s house.