Chapter 20: A Perfect Little Party
Beryl didn't struggle with the door.
Because, of course, she didn't.
She had one arm balancing gifts, the other holding onto Kairo, and still managed to twist the handle, shift her weight, and push it open in one smooth motion like she'd done it a thousand times. Which, to be fair, she probably had. Living in the Wakati mansion long enough meant you either got good at multitasking or you got buried under responsibilities. As the doors shut by themselves behind them, Kairo barely noticed either the doors or Beryl's skill behind it.
Because the second he stepped outside, really stepped outside, something in him shifted.
It wasn't just fresh air, he thought, but the feeling of something lifting… and something else settling in its place.
Freedom, yeah. That was there. A lightness in his chest, a quiet kind of excitement that made his fingers twitch and his feet want to move without permission. The sky looked bigger than he remembered through the windows. The air felt sharper, more real, like it wasn't being filtered through layers of glass and protection.
But under that? Something else. A strange, subtle absence.
Like a blanket he hadn't realized he'd been wrapped in his whole life had just been taken away.
And worse than that… he could feel it.
More eyes. Not just the usual ones. And most definitely not the watchful eyes of his family, caretakers, and his grandfather's staff, or the watchers he already knew about. This was different. Wider. Deeper. Like stepping out onto a stage and suddenly realizing the audience wasn't just in front of you, it was everywhere.
He almost stopped breathing because the feeling was so intense . . . Almost. .But before his thoughts could spiral into something heavier, Beryl nudged him lightly with her elbow and glanced down at him.
"So," she said casually, like nothing weird was happening at all, "you feeling brave today, or do you want the royal carry service?"
Kairo blinked, then looked up at her, grounding himself, "sorry, please…Put me down."
She raised an eyebrow, a little amused, but didn't argue. She shifted the gifts, crouched slightly, and set him on his feet.
The second his shoes hit the ground, he straightened just a little. Then immediately pointed at the presents.
"I can carry one," he said, like it had been bothering him for a while. "You're doing all the work."
Beryl snorted softly, but there was something approving in it. She handed him one of the smaller boxes without making a big deal about it.
"Careful," she said. "That one bites."
He looked at it for half a second.
"…Does it actually?"
"No," she said. "But now you'll be careful, won't you?"
He huffed, "crazy British lady . . .," but held onto it tighter anyway.
Then his attention shifted. Naturally. To the parking area. Kairo wasn't a car person, and There weren't many cars to look at either, not really. The mansion didn't need a full lot. But what was there? That was interesting. Staff vehicles, practical, a little worn. Beryl's motorcycle, which still looked unfairly cool no matter how many times he saw it. And then…
His grandfather's car.
A 1967 Chevrolet Impala, black, polished to the point it looked like it drank light instead of reflecting it. It sat there like it belonged to a different era and didn't care who knew it.
Kairo pointed at Beryl's bike instead.
"I wanna ride your bike."
Beryl didn't even hesitate.
"No."
He looked offended.
"You didn't even think about it."
"I did, actually," Beryl replied, her voice characteristically both brightly joyful and dry as she set off at a brisk pace. "I thought about your hair, which, I might remind you, took me the better part of half an hour to coax into something vaguely presentable. I considered the state of your outfit, which I refuse to see ruined by helmet hair or, God forbid, a run-in with the tarmac. Then I weighed the potential for disaster. Because let's be honest, I'm good, but having you on the back of my bike along with all these presents has a very high chance of ending in either a trip to A&E or a stern telling-off from your grandfather, and frankly, I'd rather not deal with either just after breakfast. Especially not on a party day."
She glanced sideways at him, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Besides, I'll be the first to admit, my driving is a bit more 'hold on and hope for the best' than 'Sunday ride through the countryside'. I'm not about to risk life, limb, or a perfectly good party outfit just for a bit of a thrill. So, no, you're not riding my bike. Not unless you fancy flying headfirst into a hedge and explaining to the neighbours why you look like you've been dragged backwards through it."
She gave a little sniff, resolute. "And before you ask, no, you cannot drive it either. Not even if you promise to be careful. That's a conversation for another lifetime, or at least when you can see over the handlebars."
He opened his mouth to argue, then paused.
"…Fair."
She smirked.
"Also," she added, stopping her steps, glancing at him sideways, "wouldn't you rather walk? First time out here and all. Bit of a big moment, yeah?"
Kairo tilted his head.
"…Maybe."
And then his thoughts and eyes drifted. Because of course he did.
He wandered over to the fountain like he'd been pulled there by something quiet and persistent. The water shimmered under the late morning light, smooth, clean, untouched. He stepped forward without thinking.
And stepped onto it, it held his full weight with No splash or No ripple.
Just a soft, barely noticeable distortion as his foot settled on the surface like it had always been meant to.
He walked over the stone fountain's surrounding pond before crouching slightly, reaching out, fingers brushing the stone of the statue in the center. Something he'd looked at for years, his entire life, truthfully. Memorized from a distance. Imagined what it felt like.
Now he knew. It, of course, was nothing special, just some old rock, Cold, Solid and Real, like any other stone, "…Huh," he muttered quietly.
For a second, he just stood there, feeling it.
Then something tugged at him. Not physically, or not exactly, but deep, instinctive.
His hand was still pressed to the cold stone of the fountain, fingers splayed as if he could anchor himself there, but the pull was unmistakable. It was as if the world tilted, just slightly, and a thread he hadn't known was wrapped around his wrist gave a gentle but insistent yank.
A shiver ran up his arm, and for a brief, dizzying moment, he felt the stone pulse beneath his palm. Not a heartbeat, but a memory of one; old, ancient energy, humming faintly through the rock. The sensation was cold and familiar all at once, like déjà vu for something he'd never experienced before. He tried to pull his hand away, but it was as if some invisible force wanted him to stay just a few heartbeats longer, holding him in place, reminding him that he was not entirely his own.
The sky seemed sharper, the air thinner, and all the clocks in his mind ticked out of sync for one split second. Then, just as suddenly, the tension eased. The pull faded, leaving him standing there with his hand on the fountain, heart thumping a little too hard, as if he'd just run a sprint. He exhaled, steadying himself, and finally let go of the stone, shaking out his hand as if to dispel the lingering charge.
Time. Or something like it. A quiet correction. A reminder.
You're going to be late.
He blinked, sighed, and stepped off the top of the water like it hadn't been anything special.
"…Yeah, okay," he said, turning back toward Beryl. "We can walk."
The walk from the Wakati mansion through Cranston Estates was… well, it was a walk. But not the sort that inspires poetry or daydreams, much more like a stroll through a very expensive dollhouse, where everything was just a bit too shiny, a bit too rehearsed, people showing off wealth to other rich people doing the same thing, making it all look kinda life-less.
Cranston Estates sprawled along the mountainside, a display of wealth that bordered on the ridiculous and then passed it. The air was crisp and faintly scented with pine and whatever flower-of-the-month the gardeners had planted along the driveways.
Kairo glanced up at the houses, for sure, mansions, really, each one competing for 'most likely to be featured in a glossy magazine about people with far too much money and not enough imagination.'
The buildings loomed: turrets and columns, extravagant glass façades, driveways lined with cars that cost more than most people's lives. The lawns were perfect, an unnatural shade of green, looking as if the grass itself would be fined for growing out of line. . . . and he had a feeling that the HOA would do just that . . . if given the chance.
People strolled past, all pressed shirts and designer shoes, their smiles practiced and their eyes sharp, like they expected the Queen to pop round for tea at any moment. Even the dogs looked posh, a parade of spaniels, retrievers, and one ancient, ugly-cute pug in a tartan jumper, all freshly groomed.
Kairo looked at it all and felt… nothing for it all, except the dogs, dogs could only give love. Anyway. . .
Not impressed, not even annoyed, just detached, as if he'd wandered onto the set of a show he didn't audition for.
"Bit much, innit?" Beryl said, glancing down at him, her voice a mixture of fondness and exasperation.
He shrugged. "They're just houses."
Beryl snorted, shaking her head. "Careful, someone'll keel over in their rose bushes if they hear you say that."
As they walked further, a woman with two dogs approached. The dogs, one golden retriever with the manners of a gentleman, the other a scruffy terrier with wild eyes, zeroed in on Kairo instantly. He crouched, greeting them as if they were long-lost friends. The retriever nuzzled into his hands, tail thumping, while the terrier spun in frantic circles, yipping with joy. Kairo grinned, the first genuine spark of delight flickering in his eyes since they'd left the mansion.
"Okay," he admitted, still scratching behind floppy ears, "this bit's all right."
"Knew you'd like the locals," Beryl replied, giving one of the dogs a pat on the head. "They've got better taste than most of the humans here."
When they finally moved on, Kairo glanced back at the dogs, already missing the uncomplicated joy. Their costumes began to draw attention now, people paused in their morning routines to give them once-overs, some with amused smirks, others with the sort of polite curiosity reserved for tourists or minor celebrities. A groundskeeper, rake in hand, tipped his cap. A jogger slowed, gave a thumbs-up, and jogged on.
"Oh, you're heading to the Penderghast party?" called out a woman from her rose garden, sunglasses perched on her head like a crown.
Beryl nodded, not missing a beat. "That obvious, is it?"
The woman grinned conspiratorially. "Well, it's either that or you're both trendsetters in ways the rest of us can only dream of."
Kairo looked down at the feathered trim on his sleeve, then shrugged. "…Fair."
The road wound higher, the view opening up to reveal Gotham City far below, all glass and steel catching the morning sun. Kairo took it in, then turned to Beryl. "Do you like it here?"
Beryl didn't answer straight away, she tucked her hands into her jacket pockets while still holding on to the gifts, boots crunching on gravel as she considered. "It's odd, living here. I've been in Cranston Estates as long as you have, five years and a bit. It's safe, I'll give it that. Too safe sometimes, like it's all been scrubbed so clean that nothing real sticks. People don't struggle, not really; they plan, they schedule, they keep things nice and tidy."
She looked around at the manicured hedges, the silent fountains, the gates with brass plaques. "But you get little pockets of real, if you know where to look. The dogs, obviously. Some of the staff. The kids who still have grass stains on their knees. And us, of course, just by being here, we mess up the script."
Kairo nodded, thoughtful. "…I don't think I like it."
Beryl smiled, her face softening. "That's all right, duck. You don't have to. You'll find your place, eventually, and when you do, it'll be somewhere that lets you get properly messy."
He smiled back, a little more at ease, as the looming silhouette of the Penderghast mansion came into view at the end of the lane, bigger, brasher, and somehow trying even harder than the rest.
Kairo and Beryl both paused for half a second, then exchanged a look.
"lord above…They tried harder, it seems," Kairo said.
"Desperately," Beryl agreed.
Priscilla Penderghast greeted them herself.
Which was surprising, and more surprising than that?
She looked… genuinely pleased.
Her smile wasn't sharp this time, from what Anika had warned and told them about, Not cutting or even probing. Just warm, polished, but real enough to pass. There was an honesty to it, a flicker of nerves beneath the practiced ease, like she was letting herself slip into something gentler for a rare moment. Maybe she'd spent years perfecting this smile for parties and strangers, but right now it felt almost . .almost . .like she meant it.
She glanced at Kairo and Beryl, her expression softening further for a split second, the kind of look that said she remembered what it was like to be a child at a party, uncertain and hopeful all at once. The corners of her mouth lifted just a little more, and when she spoke, her voice held a warmth that didn't sound rehearsed at all.
"Well," Priscilla said, the smile on her face still the kind that made you second-guess if it was real or just very well practiced. Her eyes sparkled as she took them in, and for a heartbeat, it seemed genuine. "Now this is delightful. Proper costumes. Someone understood the assignment. You both look wonderful."
She wore a costume as well, nothing too over the top, but enough to show she cared about the theme, a clever blend of elegance and playfulness that only someone with a full staff and a wardrobe budget could pull off. Her dress had a faint shimmer, her hair pinned back with a glimmering comb, and her shoes looked far too nice to actually walk in, let alone chase children around in.
Her gaze lingered on Beryl a second longer, trying to place her. "And you are…?"
Beryl didn't fidget or falter. She just lifted her chin the tiniest bit and replied, "Beryl Hutchinson. I work with Dr. Wakati."
Priscilla's smile stayed steady, but her eyes narrowed in curiosity. There was a beat where it was obvious she wanted to ask more, who exactly Beryl was, what she did for Dr. Wakati, how she fit into this whole arrangement, but she let it go, for now. "Of course you do," she said smoothly, but the promise was there: she'd be coming back for more information later.
One of the staff, impossibly polite, in the way only people paid to be polite can be, stepped forward and offered to take the gifts off their hands. Priscilla waved a hand, all graciousness, and asked Beryl to hand over the presents. "Let me show you around a little," she offered, her voice just slightly brighter than necessary. "You must see the house before the chaos of the children's party starts."
Kairo, finding out he was a little shy in front of bold new people, had trouble speaking. Beryl, on the other hand, "We don't mean to be rude but . . .," She never had a chance to finish as Priscilla, with a strength Beryl didn't know a rich woman could have pulled them in and lined them both behind her, and she started to show them around her house . . .
The tour was… a lot.
Priscilla moved through the mansion with the practiced grace of someone who'd done this tour a hundred times, pointing out rooms that had their own rooms, hallways that seemed to exist simply to display expensive rugs, sculptures, and paintings that probably had a story but not one Priscilla was going to bother telling. There was a library with shelves high enough to need a ladder, a sitting room with furniture that looked like it was an expense that might bite you if you tried to sit on it, and a sunroom full of orchids that looked too perfect to be real, "What do you both think?" Priscilla asked, giving them both a chance to finaly speak.
"WOW . . .," was all Kairo and Beryl could say as they were dragged around, Priscilla smiled and it seemed she liked that answer, "Good, I have so much more I need to show you both!" The Very Rich lady said.
"…Okay." was the only response either of them could give.
All the while, Priscilla kept up a steady stream of commentary, her tone bright and slightly performative. She asked Beryl questions, where she was from, how long she'd worked for Dr. Wakati, if she enjoyed the city, if she liked parties like this, what she did at the mansion. Beryl, for her part, was polite but evasive, answering just enough to be friendly but not enough to actually reveal anything. "I'm from England, originally," she said, when pressed. "I do a bit of everything, really. Mostly whatever's needed. Dr. Wakati keeps me busy."
Priscilla tried a few more times, her curiosity thinly veiled behind her smile, but Beryl was an expert at giving polite, empty answers. After the third or fourth attempt, Priscilla gave her a look that said, "All right, you win this round," but she also clearly made a mental note to try again later. Beryl just smiled, a touch smugly, and wished her luck.
Kairo, meanwhile, did his best to look interested. He muttered the occasional "Wow," or "That's nice," whenever Priscilla paused for effect. Beryl shot him a look at one point, and he could tell she was trying not to laugh. The tour wound through parlours, galleries, and a dining room big enough for a royal banquet, until finally, Priscilla swept them down a wide hallway and stopped just short of a pair of heavy double doors.
"Here we are," she said, voice lowering a touch. "This is the party area."
The doors opened onto a wide, sunlit space that was part kitchen, part lounge, and looked like it had been decorated by someone determined to make every child feel like royalty. The far wall was all windows, showing off the backyard a huge, green, and full of things to climb, run through, or get lost in. The room was decked out in birthday banners, balloons, and enough snacks to feed an army or a few very hungry children.
Kairo spotted the kids right away. Real kids. His own age, clustered in little groups, some in costume, some in party clothes. For a moment he just stood there, heart thumping, feeling their eyes on him. Some looked curious, others bored, and a couple just looked tired. Priscilla clapped her hands and announced, "Everyone, this is Kairo Victor Fugate Wakati, grandson of Dr. Elias Wakati, and his guardian, Miss Hutchinson."
Most of the kids didn't react, but two of them, twins in matching black-and-white outfits, perked up at the mention of Dr. Wakati. Kairo glanced at them, then at the girl in the center of the room, who was watching him with a sharp, assessing look. She stood up, straightened her dress, and walked over, her blonde hair catching the light.
She stopped in front of him, stuck out her hand, and said, very seriously, "Penelope Penderghast. Thank you for coming to my seventh birthday."
Kairo shook her hand, matching her seriousness for a moment. "Thank you for inviting me. I'm Kairo."
Penelope squinted at him, then announced, "Kairo is a weird name. I'm going to call you Kai."
He blinked, shrugged, and said, "Cool. Can I give you a nickname?"
She didn't miss a beat. "Nope. My name isn't weird."
He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and just nodded. "…Fair."
Without another word, Penelope latched onto Kairo's wrist and tugged him toward the other kids, her grip surprisingly strong for someone so composed. Kairo stumbled to keep up, glancing over his shoulder at Beryl, who was already being piloted away by Priscilla, the two adults drifting off into polite, measured conversation. Beryl managed a thumbs-up and a sympathetic grin, mouthing, "Good luck," before she vanished through an archway to another side of the large space.
Penelope stopped in the center of the group and made a sweeping gesture. "Everyone, this is Kai. He's new. He's Dr. Wakati's grandson, which, according to my mom, is a big deal, so be nice."
Addison Cobblepot was the shorter of the twins and a fellow chubby kid like himself, and she was the first to speak: "Penelope, you don't need to tell us that, your mother literally just did a moment ago," Addison said as she started flicking her dark hair back, her eyes drifting to Kairo's. "Didn't know Dr. Wakati had a grandson," she said, eyeing Kairo like she was evaluating a new toy.
Kairo matched her look, remembering the stories about the Cobblepot family. "Why do you care?" he asked, not unkindly, just curious.
"Information is power. My dad says so," Addison replied, smug. "Besides, it's good to know who's got connections around here."
Alaric, a little taller, skinny and much quieter, stepped forward and offered a handshake. "I'm Alaric. Sorry about Addison . . .she likes to keep tabs on everyone."
Addison made a face at her brother. "I just don't like being surprised. That's all."
Penelope huffed, "Alaric, let me introduce people, please. It's my party."
Alaric shrugged, "Sorry. Force of habit."
Addison elbowed him, "You apologize too much."
He just shrugged again, unbothered. "You point that out too much."
Penelope rolled her eyes, then turned to the last girl. "This is Rebecca Langstrom. She has super-hearing, so don't bother whispering."
Rebecca, in her earmuffs, gave Kairo a crooked smile. "Penelope exaggerates. The muffs help. You can talk normal."
Kairo grinned, "Cool. My grandpa worked with your grandpa, I think."
Rebecca brightened, "Yeah, Dad says Dr. Wakati is a real genius. He and Grandpa used to do science stuff together before Dad became Man-Bat."
Addison snorted, "At least your dad admits he's a supervillain. My family just gets called names in the news."
Rebecca shrugged, "Isn't your dad literally called the Penguin?"
Addison bristled. "That's just because he likes penguins, okay? Doesn't mean he's a bad guy."
Rebecca just grinned, "Right. Sure. Totally legitimate."
Kairo couldn't help it, he snorted. "Do you two always argue like this?"
Penelope sighed, "Every party. Every time. It's tradition. It's even worse at school."
Alaric grinned quietly. "It's how they say hello."
Rebecca stuck her tongue out at Addison. Addison stuck hers out right back. "Whatever, GirlBat."
Rebecca shot back, "GirlBat is better than Penguin Junior."
Addison puffed up, "Is not!"
"Is too!"
Penelope clapped her hands sharply, "That's enough! We're playing a game now. If you two can't behave, you're on the same team."
Addison and Rebecca both groaned but subsided, glaring at each other over the board game Penelope produced from the shelf. Alaric helped set the pieces, careful and methodical. Kairo found himself in the middle, feeling both overwhelmed and oddly at home.
He turned to Penelope as she passed him the dice. "Does it always get this loud?"
Penelope smirked, "You haven't seen anything yet. Wait until cake."
Rebecca piped up, "I like your costume, Kai. It's better than Addison's."
Kairo refused to fall for that bait and just gave Rebecca a thumbs-up instead of talking.
Addison rolled her eyes, "Please. I look amazing. Besides, at least I didn't wear earmuffs to a party."
Rebecca grinned, "I need the earmuffs, but at least I can both see and hear when you cheat."
Alaric, finally relaxing, added, "Addison always tries to cheat. It's tradition."
Kairo grinned, heart a little lighter. For the first time, he felt like he might actually fit in with this odd bunch, bickering, joking, and already acting like he was one of them. . . .or at least he thinks he might fit in . .
feeling a bit overwhelmed, but also, for the first time, like he was actually part of something. He glanced around at all the kids, Penelope, Addison, Alaric, Rebecca and wondered what kind of party this was going to turn into, and if he was ever going to get used to being called "Kai."
Meanwhile, across the room, Beryl sipped something fizzy and, standing with the grown-ups, while also eavesdropping on them and quietly rooting for Kairo to survive the chaos, already betting with herself how long it would take before someone started crying, or if she'd manage to avoid answering any real questions about herself until cake time.
(some time later . . . )
The new board game hit the table with a crash, and the pieces went everywhere. Addison immediately grabbed the money and sorted it with a speed that made it clear this wasn't her first rodeo. "Okay, I'm the banker. No arguments," she said, already stacking the bills and tossing property cards into piles.
Penelope raised a brow. "Addison, you were banker last time. It's my birthday."
Addison shrugged. "That's exactly why I should do it. You shouldn't have to work on your birthday." She flashed a too-sweet smile, already sliding a few extra bills into her pile as she 'organized' the bank.
Rebecca, oblivious, lined up her tokens in color order, then started humming quietly, a little off-key. Alaric was reading the rules, mouthing them to himself, probably plotting how to actually keep this chaos from devolving into war.
As the first round began, Addison sent the dice flying, announced her move, and bought up the purple properties with no hesitation. She handed herself the deed and made change for herself, quick as a flash. Kairo's eyes narrowed. He watched as, with a flick of her hand, Addison slipped an extra hundred under her side of the board. No one else noticed. Not Penelope, who was busy explaining the rules for the third time, and not Alaric, who was trying to keep Rebecca from trading all her properties to the other girls for promises of snacks.
Kairo caught Addison's eye and grinned, just a tiny secret smile. Addison paused, then smirked back, tilting her head just a little as if to say, "What are you going to do about it?" Kairo just shrugged, letting her have her victory. There was something fun about being in on the secret, and anyway, it wasn't like he cared about winning.
The game quickly devolved into overlapping conversations and accusations.
"Addison, you skipped Rebecca's turn again!" Alaric pointed out, not even sounding annoyed, just resigned.
Addison replied, "Rebecca was still deciding what snack to eat. I'm just keeping things moving."
Rebecca piped up, "I was going to buy the red one!" She pointed at the board with a carrot stick.
Addison rolled her eyes. "You can have it, just give me your railroad."
Penelope, now fully in birthday-host mode, tried to restore order. "We have to play fair, or I'm getting a grown-up."
Addison gave her best innocent look. "I'm totally playing fair. Ask Kai."
Kairo just shrugged again, keeping the secret with a small, knowing smile.
Rebecca, still tapping her fingers in that strange rhythm, looked up and said quietly, "Doesn't it feel weird in here?" She leaned toward Kairo, voice low. "Like something's buzzing, but not the lights."
Kairo tried to listen, but all he heard was the chaos of the game. "You mean the arguing?"
Rebecca shook her head, "No, not that. Never mind."
Meanwhile, Addison continued her campaign of minor chaos, "accidentally" moving her token an extra square or two, quietly collecting money from the bank when she thought no one was looking, and skipping over her own penalties. Penelope caught her once and threatened to take away her banker privileges, but Addison pleaded with puppy eyes and promised to be good, which lasted exactly two turns.
Every time Addison pulled a trick, she glanced at Kairo. He just smiled, never calling her out. It felt good to be in on something, even if it was just a silent little rebellion.
Finally, Addison announced, "I win!" and everyone groaned.
Penelope rolled her eyes and started setting up the board for another round. "Rematch. Alaric's the banker this time. No cheating."
Addison grinned at Kairo, and he grinned back, feeling lighter with each round, he wasn't just a guest at someone else's party. He was part of it, messy, noisy, and exactly where he wanted to be.
Addison was already trying to take control of the game. Penelope allowed it, but only in a way that still made it clear she was in charge of everything that mattered. Alaric played along, quieter, watching more than speaking. Rebecca tilted her head at the board like she was listening to something no one else could hear.
Kairo leaned back slightly.
"…This is weird," he muttered under his breath, talking about the people and the game.
Rebecca's head turned toward him immediately.
"so . . do you…Do You feel it too?"
He blinked.
"…Feel what?"
She hesitated.
Then shook her head.
"…Nothing."
But her fingers tapped the table in an increasing rhythm speed that didn't match the game.
Kairo watched her.
And for the first time since arriving…
He paid very, very close attention.