Chapter 5: Sunday
Arthur woke up to the smell of pancakes.
For a few seconds he stared at the ceiling, confused by the unfamiliar scent.
Then he remembered it was Sunday.
His mother only made pancakes on Sundays.
A loud crash echoed from downstairs.
"That wasn't me!" his father shouted.
"It absolutely was you!" his mother shouted back.
Arthur closed his eyes.
Normal.
Everything was normal.
The thought settled over him like a blanket.
No tournaments.
No school.
No anonymous messages.
No weird conversations at the mall.
Just Sunday.
A second crash followed.
"Arthur!" his mother yelled.
"Tell your father to stop helping!"
Arthur sat up.
"Helping with what?"
"Exactly!" his mother yelled.
A moment later his father's voice drifted upstairs.
"She's exaggerating!"
Another crash.
Arthur sighed.
Then he got out of bed.
---
The kitchen looked like a crime scene.
Flour covered half the counter.
One chair was lying on its side.
His father stood beside the refrigerator holding a screwdriver.
Arthur stared.
"What are you doing?"
His father looked offended.
"Fixing it."
"Why?"
"It made a noise."
Arthur glanced at his mother.
She pointed at her husband.
"See?"
His father raised the screwdriver.
"You two laugh now. You'll thank me later."
"That's what you said about the toaster."
"The toaster works."
"The toaster exploded."
"It exploded once."
Arthur sat down before the argument could continue.
A plate landed in front of him.
Pancakes.
Real ones.
Not frozen.
Not burnt.
His mother smiled.
"Eat."
He didn't need a second invitation.
---
After breakfast he helped clean up.
Mostly because leaving his father unsupervised felt dangerous.
By noon the house had settled into its usual rhythm.
His mother worked in the garden.
His father disappeared into the garage.
Penny occupied the living room television.
Arthur escaped back to his room.
Sunlight spilled through the window.
The monitors remained dark.
For once he didn't feel like gaming.
Instead he pulled out his phone.
A new contact sat near the top.
Aiko Tanaka.
He stared at it for several seconds.
Then locked the screen.
What exactly was he supposed to text?
Nice meeting you?
Good game?
Thanks for confirming you're a real person?
Every option sounded stupid.
His phone buzzed.
A message appeared.
Maggie.
Maggie: Are you alive?
Arthur: Unfortunately.
Maggie: Good.
Maggie: I'm outside.
Arthur blinked.
Then another message appeared.
Maggie: Open the door before I climb through your window.
Arthur walked to the window.
Sure enough, Maggie stood on the front lawn holding a paper bag.
She waved.
Arthur shook his head.
Some people used phones.
Maggie preferred dramatic entrances.
---
Ten minutes later they sat beneath a large tree in the nearby park.
Children played soccer nearby.
Dogs chased tennis balls.
A breeze carried the scent of fresh-cut grass.
Maggie handed him a drink.
"You looked like you needed sunlight."
"I'm not a plant."
"Debatable."
Arthur rolled his eyes.
She grinned.
Mission accomplished.
For a while they watched the park.
Comfortable silence.
The kind that only existed between people who had known each other forever.
Eventually Maggie spoke.
"So."
Arthur immediately knew where this was going.
"No."
"You haven't even heard the question."
"Yes I have."
"You met her."
Arthur groaned.
"Maggie."
"What?"
She looked entirely too pleased with herself.
"I want details."
"There are no details."
"Impossible."
Arthur took a sip of his drink.
"There are exactly zero details."
Maggie narrowed her eyes.
"You're hiding something."
"No."
"You are."
"No."
"You absolutely are."
Arthur pointed at her.
"This is why people don't tell you things."
"This is why people should tell me things."
Their argument continued for several minutes.
Neither side won.
Neither side expected to.
---
Eventually they wandered through the shopping district near the park.
Most stores were crowded.
Weekend traffic.
Normal life.
Arthur found himself paying closer attention than usual.
People laughed.
Talked.
Complained.
Rushed from place to place.
Nobody seemed worried.
Nobody seemed afraid.
The mall felt different now. He kept expecting to see a black hoodie in every crowd.
"Earth to Arthur." Maggie snapped her fingers. "You've been doing that a lot lately."
"Doing what?"
"Thinking. Zoning out. Like your brain’s in another server."
Arthur laughed.
"That's concerning?"
"Normally you're thinking about games. Builds. Counter-strats." She nudged him. "Now you’re thinking about… girls?"
"Shut up."
"I KNEW IT." Maggie grinned. "Arthur Johnson has a crush. Alert the media."
"I don’t have a—"
His phone buzzed. Saved him.
Unknown: You survive interrogation?
Arthur stared at the text. Maggie leaned over his shoulder. "Who’s that?"
Arthur locked his phone. "No one."
"Maggie tax. Show me or I tell your mom you were at the mall with a girl."
Arthur groaned. He opened the text. Maggie read it, then frowned. "Who’s ‘Unknown’? Why are they asking about interrogation?"
Arthur put his phone away. "Just someone from the tournament."
Maggie narrowed her eyes. "Tournament people don’t ask about interrogations, Arthur."
"It’s not—"
"Whatever." Maggie started walking again. Faster. "C’mon. I’m hungry."
---
The afternoon drifted by.
Eventually Maggie headed home.
The sky turned orange.
Streetlights flickered on.
Arthur returned to his room.
The house felt quieter now.
He sat at his desk.
Opened his phone.
Aiko's contact stared back at him.
Before he could overthink it, he typed.
Arthur: You survive another day?
The reply arrived almost instantly.
Aiko: Barely.
Arthur smiled despite himself.
Arthur: Tragic.
Aiko: I know.
A second message followed.
Aiko: Don't choke next season.
Arthur's smile stayed.
Arthur: Wasn't planning on it.
Several seconds passed.
Then:
Aiko: Good.
Outside his window, the neighborhood remained peaceful.
Safe.
Normal.
Yet long after the conversation ended, Arthur found himself staring at Aiko’s contact name.
Aiko Tanaka.
Not Unknown anymore.
And for some reason, that felt more dangerous than anything else.
