Chapter Ten: Fireworks and Tiny Wins
(Lyra's POV)
Day four of the Autumn Festival arrived with that sticky warmth that made the air smell like caramel apples and grass after rain.
I clutched my sketchbook like it was armor, but the truth was, I was mostly excited. Today was art showcase day — the mural Rina and I had spent hours on would finally be displayed.
Soraya and Saphira met me outside, both bouncing in place like live wires.
"Lyra! You have to eat first," Soraya said, shoving a powdered donut into my hands.
"Why?" I asked, taking a careful bite.
"Because food equals happiness! Don't question festival science!" Saphira said.
I chewed thoughtfully. She was right. Happiness did taste like powdered sugar and cider.
At the showcase, Rina led me through the crowd. "Your section's the one with the leaves and twilight sky," she whispered. "People are… obsessed."
I felt a weird swell in my chest as parents, students, and teachers lingered to admire the mural. And then I noticed the familiar golden hair in the crowd.
Evan.
And he wasn't just watching the mural — he was holding a small, plush teddy bear.
"Wait, what's he doing?" I muttered.
Soraya nudged me. "You're about to find out."
He approached me like it was a casual thing, but the way he held the bear made it seem like he'd crossed oceans. "For you," he said, handing it over.
I stared. The bear was soft, with little embroidered eyes and a scarf that matched the colors of my mural.
"I— uh… thank you," I said.
"You like it?" he asked, a corner of his mouth lifting.
I hugged it immediately. Weirdly attached, weirdly comforting. "I love it."
"Good," he said simply. "I thought you might."
The football ceremony started soon after. Cassian and Evan were front and center again — teammates and rivals all at once. Aveline hovered near the sidelines, her posture stiff, eyes flicking between him and Cassian like she wanted to throw a water bottle at one of them.
I stayed near the edge of the field, clutching my teddy and munching on festival fries. The warmth of the fries, the sugar from donuts, the cotton candy Soraya insisted I try — it all felt like… joy. Messy, loud, unfiltered joy.
The game was insane. Evan ran with reckless precision, Cassian with calm strategy. The group cheered wildly, teasing and laughing, and Aveline's glare could've cut diamonds.
"She's so obvious," Soraya whispered, elbowing me.
I nodded. "Yeah. But Cassian doesn't seem to notice."
"Of course he does," Saphira said knowingly. "He's just… pretending."
Evan scored the final goal, and the crowd went wild. He sprinted over to me afterward — sweaty hair plastered to his forehead, grin wide. "Victory," he said, plopping the teddy into my lap like it was a prize for enduring his chaotic energy.
"You already won my heart," I muttered, and he laughed.
"Good. That's how it works," he said, brushing a strand of wet hair from his eyes.
Later, the group gathered near the bonfire again. The night smelled of roasted marshmallows and cider, and the fireworks above were starting to pop in reds, golds, and purples.
Aveline leaned against Cassian casually, but the tension was palpable — the kind that made even the distant fireworks seem intimate and sharp.
"You okay?" I asked softly, noticing his jaw tight.
Cassian nodded. "Yeah. Just… planning something for tomorrow."
I didn't push, but my eyes flicked toward Aveline. She smiled, but her fingers twisted her bracelet like she was nervous. Something was unsaid — something brewing.
The rest of the night was chaos in the best way.
Soraya stole half my cotton candy.
Saphira dared Evan to jump in the fountain.
I carried my tiny teddy, sketching sparks from the fireworks across the blank page of my sketchbook.
Evan crouched beside me for a moment. "You really are weirdly attached to that thing," he said.
"I told you," I said, hugging it tighter. "Comfort."
He smirked. "I get it. I have… attachments too."
I glanced at him, curious — but then he got distracted by the fireworks and the cheers, and I returned to sketching.
By the time we walked home, Mom was waiting with a tray of warm tea.
"You look like you just walked out of a painting," she said, eyes soft.
I hugged the teddy to my chest. "Maybe I did."
And for the first time since moving here, I felt like my life wasn't just a series of accidents and new beginnings. It was alive. Bright. Tangled in laughter, tension, teasing, and tiny victories.
Even if I didn't know yet which part of it was mine — or whose heart I might really belong in.