Man of the Year (Drake Story)

Chapter Fire

So I went.

I crept into the second kitchen, the one that the guests could use when they didn’t want to go into the main kitchen where cooking took place, and grabbed a few things. Snacks and actual meals, and several bottles of water. I placed the goodies in a basket and carried it over to William, who I asked to lead me to the library. I told him I’d be spending the day there, and I would be using the food to eat while I read. He told me that I’d probably miss out on any plans my Uncle had for the day, but took me to the library nonetheless when I didn’t change my mind.

The library was quiet, just as last time. It looked like a top secret disguise room that the highest of the highest government officials used to meet and discuss private topics. That was kind of like what I was doing now: this was a top secret mission between Belphoebe and I (and maybe even Cyrus too), and the library was only a disguise. I spent ten minutes in the library, actually consuming the time with a rather interesting novel before stealing away up the staircase and into the empty room. I fully expected to see Cyrus with a pistol in his hand, ready to shoot me dead before I could live the rest of my life. Instead I saw nothing, gray walls.

“I’m coming, Phoebe,” I called to her, hoping she could hear me. She most likely could, if people in the West Wing could hear her cries.

I climbed the attic stairs until finally I reached the attic to see Belphoebe on the floor right where I left her last time. She was desperately staring at the floorboards, waiting for food and water to seep through the cracks. I couldn’t even hand her the basket, though, once I saw who stood behind her.

Of course. Cyrus.

“You were here the whole time, while she cried out for food, and didn’t even think about feeding her?” I asked him. Belphoebe ripped the basket from my hand and began devouring everything inside.

“I thought about feeding her, but then I realized that I might as well let you do it. That way, I could tell Drake and have you deal with his punishment. Because, I mean, isn’t it more fun that way?” Cyrus’ voice seemed to get more confident and arrogant with each word. He smiled sinisterly, took the food and water away from Belphoebe, and made a shooing gesture with his hand.

“Carry along, now. She’s eaten. Your job is done. All you really have to do is wait until breakfast, which should be happening in about ten minutes. Drake will be notified by then.”

While every fiber in my body wanted to leap at him and kill him right then and there, I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t know why I was even here, in this attic, saving this girl who I didn’t know, battling this boy who I’d forgotten about years ago. Why was I even at my uncle’s mansion, living luxuriously, carelessly, when I had things to care about? What I should really be doing was trying to contact Amanda to see why she fired my staff, and hunting for a place of my own. I didn’t need to be here.

That was it. I was leaving.

                                                                  * * *

“Aubrey, I don’t think you like pancakes. If you want, I can switch them with anything else of your choice.” One of the assistant cooks offered. I shook my head.

“No, that’s fine. Love pancakes, actually. My mind is just kind of far this morning.” I replied. I could feel Cyrus’ eyes on me. Uncle introduced him this morning as a new guest just like us, only arriving a bit later than we did. Keziah sat next to me at the time that he was introduced. She always sat next to me, of late. Sometimes, when I’d say something funny, she would laugh and pat my leg playfully. She seemed to make nothing of it, and I probably seemed the same, but on the inside, down in my stomach, there was a little electric reaction that always happened, something that opened my eyes and cleared my lungs and made everything feel refreshing. I liked that. I liked that a lot.

Well, while she sat next to me, she whispered: “He doesn’t seem just like us to me.”

And then I replied: “He isn’t, trust me.”

She didn’t ask any further questions and I later realized that it was because I appeared to be angry when I spoke about Cyrus. I would grind my teeth and clench my jaw and twist the fork around in my hand, oscillating it at such a constant speed that it was sick. This was sick. All of it. I hated how Uncle and Cyrus could just lie to all of us, saying that Cyrus  had just arrived this morning when he’d been here since last week and maybe even before that. They could get away with it so easily. It wasn’t fair.

Then again, I was getting away with things to.

I was pretty sure that Cyrus couldn’t possibly forget to tell Uncle Drake about what I’d done, but it appeared that he had forgotten as we ate breakfast. Uncle said nothing suspicious to me at all. It was as if nothing had happened at all. The only reminder I had that any of this had happened with Belphoebe was of course Cyrus’ periodical glares that he probably intended to me intimidating. They came across as nothing but corny, though.

Breakfast ended. I was not punished.

I walked out of the dining room. I was not punished.

I left the house with Keziah and headed for the golf course. Uncle and Cyrus followed behind. Still, I was not punished.

We all went back inside after an hour or so. I was rewarded. With a kiss. From her.

“That was a great lesson, you know?” Keziah said, toying with a loose thread on the edge of my shirt.

“It was alright. I could have taught you much more in that short amount of time. I was just distracted with a lot of things.” I said.

“You’ve been saying that all day, Aubrey.” She complained. “Maybe you’re stressed. You know—” (her voice suddenly became very low and soft) “—you’re not the only one that can give lessons. Perhaps one of these days I’ll teach you a lesson on how to overcome stress.” And then she finally ripped the thread from my shirt, let it fall to the ground, and walked away to God knows where. The feeling in my stomach was back.

That did it. I was staying.