The Grave Shadows

12. The Offer

The gold spectrum shone across the sky. Soft rays glowed on the flaming stars of leaves, and the breezes glittered far away. Colt's fall was elegant and vivid, and yet the most arresting shade in town was black. Everett posted on the tailgate of his truck, smirking.

Cyan tugged the shoulder straps of her backpack. "You're still here."

"I thought you might need a ride." Everett raised his brow.

"I think you're stalking me." Cyan had to agree with John now. All Everett's appearances seemed conveniently coincidental.

Everett huffed. "Do you want a ride or not?" He looked annoyed and exhausted, at the same time determining to do Cyan a favor.

Cyan looked around, her option limited. The evening approached quicker than she anticipated. "You're wasting your time, Everett. I'm not what you're looking for." She made another step toward the town hall's gate. Walking a thousand miles to the workshop was safer than getting in that truck again. Everett attracted eyes, and Frankenstein's monster should avoid a mob.

"You mean, a friend?" Everett found a loophole in Cyan's civility.

"You want friends?" Cyan smirked, having a soft spot for mischievous eloquence.

"Just one," said Everett.

Cyan wondered if Everett believed that his intemperate demand was defensible. "Everett Watts doesn't do friendship." Another lesson Corinne taught her.

Everett dropped to his feet and walked to the passenger side of his truck. "You're different. My father is nice to you. I want to know how you do it. How did you get the devil to smile, Cyan?" He opened the door. "Give me a chance. If I start coming on to you, you can jump out of the truck, hmm?"

Frankenstein's creature was vulnerable, but Cyan was more than pieces put together by some amateur scientist. "The workshop," she said and slipped inside the truck. "And thanks."

"You're welcome." Everett leaned on the door and stared at Cyan for a moment. He took a long deep breath, perhaps contemplating his decision to play dumb.

From the north gate of the town hall, the road on the right ran parallel to Lake Rosalind, where day shimmers faded under the colorful sky. On the opposite side, lights filtered through the shoots of maple trees, which would vanish as the park was becoming another race track. The Board said they would name it something with a word Colt or Rosalind. Every inch of this town had the Watts brand slapped on it.

"You were fantastic on the track," Everett said.

"You think so?" The heat blossomed on Cyan's cheeks. "Thanks. Colt Equestrian Committee backs my scholarship. I hope I didn't cross the dean... your brother. It was his spot, right?" But Cyan was glad that her performance stopped the Watts boys' giggling.

"Oh, he doesn't mind at all." Everett scoffed.

The Watts boys had one hostile relationship. Cyan learned that they enjoyed competing among themselves than with others. They fought as John and Cyan did in video games. But people who liked each other played together.

"Also, Luke told me Apollo is your horse," Cyan whimpered. "I didn't know. I met him yesterday, and the Board gave him to me, so I..."

"Cyan, you don't have to explain." Everett beamed. "He's Apollo III, by the way. Apollo is my oldest brother's horse. I'm happy Apollo III is yours now. He's useless with me."

Yes, Apollo III. Don't be ignorant, Cyan!

"I'm sorry if I offended you back there. Your family has done so much for my dad and me, so I don't want to mess it up. I can't afford to disappoint Mr. Watts." She folded her palms together, her limbs rigid. Bill Watts glued the Coopers back in one piece. Without him, they would have been homeless by the end of this month.

"I won't get you in trouble, I swear," said Everett. His harsh breathing needed medical attention, but he chose to play with Cyan instead. "Why did you decide to move to the worst town in the United States anyway?"

"It's the scholarship. The Board takes care of everything: my study, the house, and the store. Last year, my dad and I went through a rough patch. We lost almost everything. Then the opportunity came to us like a fallen star, and we had to grab it right away." She looked at her lap and massaged her arms.

"You're feeling cold?" Everett was very observant.

Cyan shook her head and took a deep breath as Everett did. Perhaps Everett's breathing was fine, but his mind was unsettled like hers.

"How did you find out about Colt's scholarship?" Everett cleared his throat. "Many applicants show up each year, but this university isn't really on the radar. As far as I know, it has never advertised. The candidates usually come through references."

"The offer surprised me, too. Everything sounded too good to be true at first. A man came to our house one morning and gave me this golden ticket. Just like that, you know. We never heard of Colt before—I'm not going to lie—but it wasn't a tough choice. So, we packed up, followed the map, and never looked back."

"Well, I'm glad you're here," Everett said, "because we need someone who can ride like you." His lips curled up, his eyes on her neck. When Cyan adjusted her shirt's collar, he clenched his fists around the steering wheel. "If you weren't here right now, my father would have gone nuclear on us."

Cyan covered her chest with a palm. "Your father is too generous." She recalled hearing John's humming a made-up song about Bill Watts. "I don't know why everyone thinks he's a monster. Mr. Watts pushed my dad's store off the ground, and at the meeting last week, he was very supportive of me. People shouldn't be so scared of such a kind man."

Snorting, Everett twisted his brows. "Are you talking about Bill Watts? My father. The worst Watts of all."

The truck cut through town, and Everett rarely talked after that. Despite the growing silence between them, he looked peaceful.

"My offer is still on, you know," Everett said as a bright neon sign of an ice-cream shop turned his head.

"Offer?"

"To show you around town." He bit his lip. "A friendly tour, of course."

Cyan shrugged her shoulders and rummaged in her backpack. "I've already fixed that plan with some friends."

Everett huffed, and his mood shifted. Were the Watts boys easily angry when someone turned them down?

Cyan pulled a piece of paper out of her backpack. "But if you insist, we can go here."

"Dawn Cathedral?" Everett wrinkled his forehead and shifted his spine against the seat. "Weird choice, but sure."

"I knew you would say that. I've been bugging people to go there with me, but nobody is into it. Well, it does look creepy." Cyan gazed at the picture. "And beautiful. I thought of driving there myself, but I don't want to go alone."

"Why do you want to go there?" Everett asked. "I mean... there's really nothing to see."

"I don't know." Cyan folded the paper, but she could imagine the old church in her mind. "Ever since I saw the picture, I couldn't get it out of my head. I have to be sure..."

"About what?"

Cyan had no real memory of her mother's face, but she faintly remembered a family trip to a place like this. John denied it, but he was forgetful. In Cyan's dreams, the woman in the photographs—Mom—guided her to the enormous, dark, spiky church with a basket of apples. Dawn Cathedral could return those old memories. "Hmm..." Cyan looked out the window, wrapping her arms around her shivering body. "I don't know. I might have seen it before."