The mall buzzed with weekend energy as the Everett family entered through the glass doors, the air conditioning a welcome respite from the mounting heat outside. Sophia and Marcus were practically vibrating with excitement, each pulling in different directions before they'd even passed the directory.
"Can we split up?" Marcus asked, bouncing on his heels. "There's something I really need to check out."
Their mother raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"
Marcus fidgeted, a conspiratorial smile playing across his lips. "It's... kind of a surprise. But I could use some help from you and Dad."
"A surprise?" Isabel exchanged glances with Robert. "Should we be concerned?"
"No, nothing bad," Marcus assured her quickly. "Just something I've been saving up for. Please? It won't take long."
Lysander watched the exchange with growing curiosity. In his first life, he'd rarely paid attention to his brother's interests or secrets, dismissing them as trivial compared to his own pursuits. Now, he found himself genuinely intrigued. What could Marcus be planning that required parental assistance but needed to be kept from him and Sophia?
"Alright," Robert agreed after a moment's consideration. "We'll meet at the food court in thirty minutes. Everyone good with that?"
"Perfect!" Sophia exclaimed. "I need to find some costume inspiration for the play. Ms. Reynolds said I should look for something that 'captures the essence of the character' whatever that means."
"The play you got the lead in?" Lysander asked, another ripple of change registering in his mind. In his first timeline, had he even known what productions Sophia performed in? Had he attended her performances with anything more than obligatory disinterest?
Sophia nodded, a flash of surprise crossing her features at his continued interest. "Yeah. I'm playing Juliet in a modernized version of Romeo and Juliet. It's a lot of pressure."
"I'll come with you," Lysander offered impulsively. "If that's okay?"
Another surprised look, but this one softened into something warmer. "Sure, if you want. Better than going alone, I guess."
As Marcus ushered their parents toward whatever mysterious destination he had in mind, Lysander fell into step beside his sister. The dynamic felt new and slightly awkward, but not unpleasantly so.
"So where are we heading?" he asked.
"Stellar Styles," Sophia replied. "They have these mannequin displays with complete outfits that might give me some ideas. Plus, they sometimes have accessories that aren't super expensive."
Lysander nodded, mentally reviewing his finances. He still had most of his weekly allowance intact a habit of frugality that had apparently transcended his rebirth. While his adult mind was busy plotting major financial moves that would secure his future wealth, his present reality was that of a ten-year-old with limited pocket money. Still, he wondered if he might find something small to bring to Marco's tomorrow—snacks, perhaps, or a new game if he could find anything affordable.
They navigated through the Saturday crowds, past kiosks selling phone cases and perfume, the sweet smell of cinnamon rolls wafting from the food court they'd just passed. Sophia walked with confident strides, occasionally pointing out window displays that caught her eye, while Lysander absorbed the familiar-yet-strange environment. Shopping malls existed in a state of timeless familiarity—the same basic elements repeating across decades with only subtle shifts in aesthetics.
"Here we are," Sophia announced proudly as they approached a storefront with mannequins dressed in what Lysander supposed were the current fashion trends of 2000's low-rise jeans, layered tops, and accessories that would look painfully dated in a decade.
As they approached, however, it became evident that something was amiss. Just inside the entrance to Stellar Styles, a well-dressed woman with a sleek bob haircut was gesturing animatedly at one of the display mannequins, speaking rapid French to an increasingly flustered sales associate.
"Je voudrais savoir où vous avez obtenu ce collier," the woman said, pointing emphatically at a delicate pendant hanging around the mannequin's neck. "C'est très similaire à un bijou de famille que j'ai perdu."
The young sales associate, a girl who couldn't be more than twenty, shook her head helplessly. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't understand. No... um... no comprendo?" She looked around desperately for assistance, clearly out of her depth.
"Le collier!" the woman repeated, her frustration growing. "S'il vous plaît, c'est important!"
Sophia sighed, tugging at Lysander's sleeve. "Let's just go look at the other side of the store. Adults with problems are so awkward to be around."
Lysander hesitated, attention fixed on the increasingly tense exchange. The French woman was becoming more agitated, her gestures more emphatic as she pointed repeatedly between the necklace and herself, trying to bridge the language barrier through sheer determination.
In his previous life, Lysander had conducted business across multiple continents. French had been one of several languages he'd acquired at least conversational proficiency in a necessity when negotiating with Parisian investment firms or addressing shareholders in Montreal. While he'd never achieved native-level fluency, he could certainly manage basic communication.
For a brief moment, he considered Sophia's suggestion. They were just kids, after all. No one would expect them to intervene in an adult situation. It would be the normal, age-appropriate response to simply move along and find their costumes elsewhere.
But something about the woman's desperation called to him. The necklace she was inquiring about clearly held significance beyond its monetary value. And hadn't he promised himself that this second life would be different? That he would engage more fully, show more compassion, be more present in moments that mattered?
"Actually," he said slowly to Sophia, "I think I might be able to help."
Sophia's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Help? How? You don't speak French!"
A hint of a smile played across Lysander's lips. "Well, maybe a little."
"Since when?" Sophia demanded, but Lysander was already stepping forward, approaching the distressed woman and the overwhelmed employee.
"Excuse me," he began, gathering his long-dormant language skills. He would need to be careful here—a ten-year-old with business-level French would raise far too many questions. But basic phrases, the kind one might pick up from educational television or language learning apps? That might be plausible.
Sophia tried to grab his arm, her expression a mixture of alarm and embarrassment. "Lysander! What are you doing?" she hissed. "We can't just—"
But it was too late for retreat. The French woman had already noticed his approach, her gaze shifting from the frustrated sales associate to the small boy who had stepped forward with unexpected confidence. The salesclerk, too, looked down at him with a mixture of confusion and desperate hope that someone—anyone—might resolve this increasingly uncomfortable standoff.
Lysander took a deep breath, poised on the precipice of intervention, calculating precisely how much linguistic ability he could reasonably display without arousing suspicion. In this singular moment, the simple act of offering assistance represented far more than just a good deed it was another small but significant deviation from the path his first life had taken, another ripple in the timeline that might lead to unforeseen connections and opportunities.
As he opened his mouth to speak his first careful words of French, he caught Sophia's expression from the corner of his eye a combination of mortification and grudging curiosity that suggested this unexpected behavior from her usually self-absorbed little brother had captured her full attention.
Whatever happened next, Lysander knew, would add another thread to the tapestry of his new existence one more moment that had never existed in the original timeline, one more chance to be someone different, someone better than he had been before.