Chapter Text
The invitation hit Anya directly in the back of her head.
She had been doodling in the margin of her notebook when a paper airplane came sailing across the classroom and got caught in her hair. The impact wasn't particularly painful, but it was surprising enough that she nearly fell out of her chair. By the time she looked up, Sy-on Boy was already sideways, forward with his arms folded, pretending he had absolutely nothing to do with it. Anya unfolded the airplane suspiciously. Inside was a thick cream-colored invitation embossed with gold lettering.
The Desmond Family cordially invites the 4th year students of Eden College and their families to their Start-of-Summer Celebration.
This was enormous.
Technically, everyone in Cecile Hall had received invitations. Technically, it wasn't special. Technically, Sy-on Boy had launched the invitation at her skull instead of handing it to her like a normal person. None of that mattered. The important thing was that she had been invited. Anya immediately classified the event as a major advancement in Operation Strix. Friendship scheme progress. World peace progress. Future success progress. She spent the rest of the school day staring at the invitation whenever the teacher wasn't looking.
Now she stood in the middle of the Desmond party and realized she had dramatically underestimated rich people.
The Desmond family hadn't rented a ballroom. They hadn't rented a garden. They had rented an entire fairground. Everywhere Anya looked, there were rides turning beneath the bright summer sky, carnival games, performers, food stalls, musicians, decorations, and crowds of very, very elegant adults. The place felt less like a party and more like a national holiday. Even the richer Eden students seemed impressed.
The candy alone was enough to make Anya dizzy.
There were tables piled high with chocolate. Towers of colorful lollipops. Mountains of gummy bears. Entire displays devoted exclusively to caramels. One stand appeared to sell nothing except giant striped sticks of candy larger than Anya's forearm. She wandered through it all, her expression dreamy, like an explorer discovering a lost civilization.
Mama and Papa were even worse.
The moment they arrived, they had split into a smooth, well-practiced routine. Loid drifted through clusters of politicians, military officers, and business executives, collecting information while pretending to make pleasant conversation. Yor somehow managed to charm groups of influential wives, socialites, and society figures into telling her all sorts of things without realizing it.
Anya could hear thoughts flying everywhere around them.
The minister is furious about the budget proposal.
That company plans to expand next spring.
Darn, shouldn't have told her that. Oh well, who is a housewife going to tell?
The Forgers are an incredibly cute family.
Papa's polite, professional smile had been activated. Mama was nodding earnestly. Every few minutes, they would pass each other, exchange a few casual words with a kiss on the cheek, and quietly trade information before moving on again.
Neither of them had much attention left for candy-related emergencies, which was Anya's main concern. She walked through the crowds with Bond’s leash wrapped loosely around her arm.
That was when Becky found her.
"There you are," Becky said. "I've been looking everywhere."
"I was looking at candy."
"I can see that."
Becky pointed toward the center of the fairground. "Did you enter the contest yet?"
Anya followed her finger and froze.
Near the center plaza stood a giant glass jar.
The thing was approximately Anya-sized and packed completely full of jellybeans. Red jellybeans. Blue jellybeans. Green jellybeans. Yellow jellybeans. Thousands and thousands of them pressed against the glass until the entire container looked like a rainbow trapped inside a cylinder.
"What contest? Do I have to eat them all?"
"You guess how many jellybeans are inside, silly," Becky explained. "The closest answer wins."
“What do you win?”
Then Becky pointed at the prize.
Anya's jaw dropped.
The rocket ship stood on a display platform nearby, gleaming white beneath the afternoon sunlight. It wasn't a toy. It wasn't even something sold in stores. The model looked like it belonged in a museum. Tiny details covered every surface. Transparent sections revealed interior compartments. A plaque beneath it explained that it had been donated by the national space program itself.
Even the wealthy Eden students were staring at it.
Nobody had anything like that.
Anya wanted it immediately.
Then Bond sat down beside her and made his future face.
Anya focused on his mind.
A carnival announcer stood beside the jellybean jar, holding an envelope. People crowded around him. He unfolded a piece of paper and read from it.
"One hundred ninety thousand and twenty-nine jellybeans!"
The number was written clearly beside him.
190,029.
The vision vanished.
Bond wagged his tail. Anya stared at him. Then she looked toward the contest table. Then she looked back at Bond.
Then back at the table.
Anya wandered over to the entry sheet and examined the guesses already written there. Students and adults had filled page after page with estimates. Some guessed one hundred fifty thousand. Others guessed two hundred twenty thousand. A few were somewhat closer, but nobody had written 190,029.
A slow grin spread across Anya's face.
She knew the answer.
For a moment, she considered racing over, writing her name, and claiming the rocket. Then another idea occurred to her.
She wanted to gloat.
Sy-on Boy needed to know how smart she was. He’d definitely be impressed.
Finding Damian wasn't difficult. He was standing near one of the game booths with Emile and Ewen, trying to look dignified amid the carnival prizes. Anya marched directly up to him.
"Sy-on Boy."
Damian sighed immediately. "What?"
"I know exactly how many jellybeans there are."
"You do not."
"I do."
"No, you don't."
"Yes."
Damian folded his arms. "Then tell me."
"No."
His eye twitched.
"Secret."
Damian groaned. "You're so dumb."
Anya grinned at him. "I am not! Guess a number."
"What?"
"Guess."
He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Two hundred sixty thousand."
Anya nearly laughed out loud.
She was preparing a devastating response when a servant approached Sy-on Boy and spoke to him in a low voice. The change in Damian's expression happened so quickly that Anya almost missed it.
"Father won't be attending?" he asked.
The servant looked uncomfortable.
"I'm afraid not, Master Damian."
Damian was silent for a second. "And Mother?"
"Lady Desmond wasn't feeling well. One of her spells. She returned home earlier."
"Oh."
It was only a single word. Anya heard the disappointment anyway.
The servant bowed and left.
Around them, the carnival continued uninterrupted. Music played. Children laughed. Rides turned overhead. Nobody else seemed to notice anything had changed.
Damian did.
Anya could hear it in his thoughts.
He said he might come. He always says he might, and I always fall for it. I thought maybe this time, but no. What’s the point?
Emile immediately started trying to cheer him up. Ewen joined in. Damian brushed both of them aside and insisted he was fine.
Anya knew he was not fine.
A few moments later, he slipped away from the crowd and settled by himself near the edge of the fairground.
Anya watched him from across the plaza.
Then she looked at the rocket. Then she looked at the contest sheet. Then she looked back at Damian. Then she looked at Bond.
Bond nudged her leg with his nose and whined.
Anya sighed. She marched back to the entry table, grabbed a pencil, and carefully wrote:
190,000
She knocked a few numbers off. She didn’t want to be too obvious.
Then, beneath it, she wrote his name and walked away to get an ice cream cone (covered in chocolate peanuts) with Becky, before she changed her mind.
Later that evening, the entire party gathered around the giant jellybean jar. The carnival announcer climbed onto a small stage and called for everyone's attention. Excited chatter gradually faded as people turned toward him.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "the correct number of jellybeans was one hundred ninety thousand twenty-nine."
Gasps spread through the crowd.
The announcer checked the contest sheet.
"And our winner, with the closest guess, is someone named—” he squinted at the guessing sheet. “Someone named Sy-On Boy."
For a second, nobody reacted.
Damian blinked.
"What?"
The announcer looked down again.
"Is there anyone here named 'Sy-On Boy?’ Maybe a nickname?"
Damian stared at Anya with his mouth hanging open. Emile looked shocked. Ewen looked shocked. Becky looked shocked.
Anya looked completely innocent. Unfortunately, Anya's innocent face was terrible.
Across the crowd, her eyes locked with Damian’s.
Realization spread slowly across his face. Confusion became understanding. Understanding became embarrassing. Within seconds, his ears had turned bright red.
Anya smiled.
Damian continued staring at her as he walked toward the stage.
The crowd applauded as the enormous rocket ship was wheeled forward. The announcer shook his hand. Cameras flashed. Adults congratulated him. Damian accepted the prize mechanically, still looking slightly stunned.
Then he glanced back into the crowd and back toward Anya.
Anya gave him a thumbs-up.
Damian stared for another second, then, very briefly, the corner of his mouth lifted.
It wasn't much, and most people probably wouldn't have noticed.
Anya did.
And somehow that tiny smile felt worth more than the rocket ship.
She patted Bond on the head and set off to see if there were any snacks for him at the festival. He'd been the one to know the answer, after all.