by Jamie Pacton
“Well that’s ridiculous,” says Jett. “Of course it would be ‘on brand.’ They just don’t want to change anything. What does everybody else say about this?” He gestures to the others who are still training.
“I haven’t told them yet,” I admit in an oh-so-small voice. “I keep thinking I’m going to figure out something to make it all work, but if I tell them before I figure it out, then they’re going to be pissed and maybe stop training.”
“They’re going to be pissed that you’re lying to them.”
“I know,” I snap too loudly. Lizzy looks up from a particularly hard fall and waves. I wave back and then lower my voice so it won’t carry. “I know. But I can’t figure out what to do. I keep thinking if I don’t tell them, then we’ll be all ready and it’ll somehow all come together on Friday.”
Jett shakes his head and says in a soft voice, “That’s not fair to them or you. It’s too much for you to worry about and too much to expect from them. They’re your friends, Kit. Tell them.”
“Tell us what?” asks Layla as she leads her horse toward us. “Tell us you know the rest of the routines Chris started? Because we’ve got the first part of the show down, but after about twenty minutes, we’re just doing the same things over and over.”
“Yes, that’s it,” I say quickly. “We’ll go over the rest of the routine today and then talk about how we’re going to make it happen on Friday. Can you see if everyone can do one last training session on Thursday afternoon?”
Layla nods and rides off to ask the others.
I can feel Jett shooting daggers into my back behind me.
“What?” I spin around.
“You have to tell them.”
“I will. But we’ve got so much more to work on, there’s no sense in dashing their hopes yet. If I can’t figure out something by Thursday’s training session, I’ll tell them then. I promise.”
“Pinkie swear?” asks Jett with a hint of a smile playing across his face. He holds out his pinkie.
I loop mine through his. “Pinkie swear.” My heart races a bit as our hands linger together.
“Kit! C’mon!” yells Alex. “Get over here and teach me how to knock you out with this mace.” They hold a kid’s Skip-It that’s been attached to a toilet plunger. It’s hardly a medieval weapon, but it’s better than a pool noodle.
“See you,” I say to Jett as I extricate my pinkie from his and join the other Knights.
By the time we’re done training, it’s after six, but we’ve got the better part of a full routine down. Everyone promises to stop by after school on Thursday for one more run-through of the routine and then a check-in about how we’ll get costumes. Penny tells us that she, Austin, and Chris have been working with the other Knights to make it happen, but they’ll have everything finalized by Thursday.
“See you all at the Castle for Wednesday’s shift,” I call out as we head back to our cars.
“Sure you can’t join us?” Layla says. She’s headed for tacos with Mags, Lizzy, and Alex. “We miss you, Kit.” She slings an arm across my shoulder.
“Silly thing,” I say. “I’ve just been busy with Chris getting hurt and the interview. I’d love to join you, but I’ve really, really got to catch up on homework tonight. I’m going in early to make up that calc test.”
Layla gives me a hug. “See you at school tomorrow!” Then, she and the others pile into her Jeep.
Jett walks me to Chris’s car. “The test is easy, you’ll do fine. But can I do anything to help with the other stuff?”
“I mean, if you can figure out a brilliant way for me to tell everyone the truth and also actually make this tournament happen?”
Jett gives me a rueful smile. “I have complete confidence in you. But call me if you need to brainstorm.”
“You’re my favorite,” I say with a smile as we say goodbye.
“You’re my favorite too,” he says back.
We linger there for a moment outside Chris’s car. So close. But I’m not brave enough to lunge across the invisible barrier between us—which is made up of the words of our Unbreakable Rules—and kiss him.
32
TUESDAY IS A BLUR OF SCHOOLWORK. BY WEDNESDAY—TWO days before we’re supposed to ride out and fight—I’m still no closer to figuring out a solution to actually hosting this tournament. But Chris and Austin have talked to the other Knights, and all of them except for Dalton have agreed to let us take their places for the 7:30 show.
“Kit! Don’t you have to be at work?” Chris calls to me from the living room. It’s almost four and I’m already running late because I had to stay after school for more catchup from Monday, since every teacher I have decided to give an exam on the Monday after spring break, and I somehow managed to forget about those tests.
“I’m on my way,” I yell back, as I head into my bedroom. I shimmy out of my school clothes and into my Wench’s uniform. Gross. I missed it when I went to the laundromat, so it’s still crusted with food from my last shift.
“It’ll do,” I mutter, as I pin up my hair and then douse myself in fruit-smelling body spray. I’m sure the smell of roasted meat and horses will cover up my stink anyway.
“I’ll see you later,” I call as I grab my bag and keys. “Mom will be home by nine and there’s food in the fridge.”
Chris wanted to go into work with me today, but he’s much more couch-bound than he thought he would be.
I stop midway down the steps and pound back up to the kitchen. Grabbing an apple, some peanut butter, and a handful of cheese sticks, I dump them on the couch next to Chris.
“Nice touch,” he says, quirking a half smile. “You’re really a domestic goddess, you know that, right?”
“Just eat it.”
Chris struggles to his feet. “I gotta pee anyway, so I can get something to eat.”
There’s nothing more I can do to help Chris, and he’s got to move on his own sooner or later. “Just don’t fall off anything, okay?”
“Aye, aye,” he says. “Maybe you can convince Len to let you ride tonight in my place.”
“Ha, fat chance! I’m just hoping he doesn’t kill me. Or fire me.”
The thought of talking to Len has been giving me nightmares, but I don’t tell Chris that.
Chris shoots me a knowing look and then laughs. Or tries to laugh. A noise escapes his throat and then he clutches his ribs.
“Give ’em hell, Girl Knight.” He raises an arm and cheers weakly. “Restore honor to our family’s name!”
I GET TO WORK FIVE MINUTES BEFORE MY SHIFT STARTS. IT’S all I can do to run down the service hallway toward the Wench section board. As I move past clumps of Pages, Squires, and other servers, I hear the odd shout-out or grumble about me being on the news. But I don’t have time to listen to them. I’ve got to get to my section, get the bread baskets filled, get—
“Why isn’t my name on here?” I hit the wall with the flat of my palm, which hurts more than it should.
Two line cooks shoot me smug looks as they pass.
“Looks like the Girl Knight is having a bad day,” snickers one of them. He has Foie Gras tattooed across his knuckles like an aspirational slogan.
“Shut up,” I mutter.
The other one, a pimply thing who’s buddies with Eric Taylor, scoffs. “Things are never going to change around here. Don’t know why you’re even trying.”
“You’re the worst. Go away.” I make a face at them both.
They laugh as they walk away, and I swear under my breath.
Running my finger down the line of servers and sections again, I scan each one, looking for my name.
Mags, Beth, Penny: Red Knight Section.
Madison, Nina: Blue Knight section.
Lizzy, Megan: Purple Knight section… .
But no Kit.
Not anywhere on the board.
I check the schedule posted next to the board. There’s my name, slotted for tonight’s shift. But I don’t have any tables?
&
nbsp; “What the hell?” I check the names again.
“Sorry about that, sweetie,” says Penny, coming up behind me with a tray full of empty water pitchers. She gives me a one-armed hug. “I had you in the Red Knight’s section as usual, but Len pulled you out of rotation. Said you have to go see him before shift starts.”
“Am I fired?”
Penny shakes her head. “No idea. But everyone’s seen the news clip and the website by now. Dalton’s pretty pissy about it, but you know we all have your back.”
“Thanks, Penny,” I mumble.
“Can’t wait for Friday,” she says. “We’re going to put on such an amazing show.”
“It’s going to be great.” My voice is full of false confidence. I even manage to wink conspiratorially at her. “Now, I’m off to see what fresh hell Len has in mind for me.”
Penny opens her pack of Camels and takes out the cigarette that’s turned upside down. She offers it to me. “For after you talk to him,” she says with a smile. “I’m betting you’ll need it.”
“Not your lucky one.” I push it back. “Besides, I owe you like ten packs by now.”
“Just take it,” she says. “Lords and Ladies know you need the luck more than I do right now.”
“Fair point,” I say, slipping the cigarette behind my ear. “See you soon, Wench.”
“Good luck!” she calls out. She readjusts her tray and hurries toward her section.
I wave to her and begin the long, circuitous walk to Len’s office.
“SO, HERE WE ARE AGAIN,” SAYS LEN AS I ENTER HIS OFFICE. “But this time, Kit, I don’t think I can shield you from Corporate. Why in the world did you go on the news?”
I stride to his desk, willing myself to calmly sit in the chair across from him. “I had an opportunity and I took it! The Castle needs to change to stay relevant. Also, I want to fight as a Knight. Permanently.”
Len makes a noise. “You’re hilarious.”
“I’m serious. Why don’t you let me fight as the Red Knight tonight? I know all of Chris’s moves, and it would show everyone how committed you are to gender equality, and it would get people all fired up for Friday’s tournament.”
“Friday’s tournament?” Len arches an eyebrow at me. “You still think that’s happening?”
“C’mon, Len. I’m the best choice to fill in while Chris is hurt, and it also proves the Castle is really progressive. I’ve got a bunch of other non-male Knights who are ready too, and we can put on a great show!”
The whole conversation feels like déjà vu, but the stakes are higher tonight. Now that Chris is hurt, my friends are expecting to fight, and half of Chicago knows my name and what I hope to accomplish here. Len shakes his head and picks up his crown.
“Not going to happen. A Squire will fight tonight in Chris’s place.”
“That’s bullshit, Len! And you know it!”
“Yes! Kit, dammit. That’s how it goes sometimes. And I’m sorry you don’t think it’s fair, but that’s how it was in medieval times, and that’s how it goes here.”
“Not for long,” I mutter darkly. “You just wait. There are going to be changes around here.”
“You’re hardly in the position to make changes,” says Len. “Effective immediately, you’ve been demoted from Wench to lower stable hand. Your new job is to take out all the horses’ straw and wood shavings for the night.”
Lower stable hand is one of the worst jobs in the Castle. Think backbreaking labor meets intolerable stench meets minimum wage. Usually it’s reserved for entry-level applicants, but every now and again, Len saves it as a special job for someone who’s really in trouble. Lucky me.
“Only for one night?” I resign myself to getting through the next eight hours.
“Oh no,” says Len. “Welcome to your new role at the Castle. Certified Shit Shoveler. I don’t want you anywhere near the arena until our Corporate visit on Friday is over. If you—and your friends, because I know you’re not alone in this—can manage to keep your heads down, then maybe I’ll let you Wench again. But if you don’t, I’m firing you all.”
Every part of me wants to tell Len to shove it, but I still need this job. At least for the summer, so I can have some money for college this fall. And I don’t want to screw my friends over even more.
“Fine. I’ll do it until Friday. I won’t mention the Knight stuff again, but you better let Chris fight when he’s better.”
I don’t say anything about the tournament because I’m still not giving up on it completely. Even if Len says no, as long as everyone else is ready to fight, we still have a chance, right?
Len smiles. “Good girl. And that reminds me, tell your brother to come get these forms. We both need to sign them so he can fill them out next time he’s here.” He holds out several pieces of paper.
“Workers’ Compensation forms?” I read the title of the top form out loud. “Does Chris qualify for this?”
“Yep,” says Len. “I checked with HR and the hospital. Since Chris wasn’t drunk or under the influence of any substances, this is a Workers’ Comp case. They should pay for all his bills.”
“Well, that’s a relief!” I blurt out. And it is. Mom and Chris will be thrilled to know that the Castle will take care of the hospital bills.
“I thought it would be,” says Len. He smiles at me. Almost like he’s a nice guy. Or that he remembered all of a sudden that we’re related. “I’m not trying to punish you and Chris, Kit. I swear. I’ve just got to think of my own job too. Your little stunt on the news this week has all the Castle managers across the nation talking. Most of them are worried and trying to make sure similar rebellions don’t happen at their Castles. So, if we can just get everything back to normal, this should blow over, and my job—and yours and Chris’s and all the others you’re working with—will be fine.”
“You’re a prince, Len.” I make a face.
“Nope, a King. And your boss. Try to remember that as you’re shoveling poop tonight.”
“Ugh,” I mutter under my breath, as I push the door open to leave.
“What’s that, Kit?” he calls out as I leave.
“Nothing, Your Majesty,” I yell over my shoulder. “Absolutely nothing!”
As his door closes, I flip him off.
33
IT’S STILL HALF AN HOUR BEFORE OUR FIRST SHOW. I’M stuffing my backpack into my locker when Len’s voice comes over the loudspeaker.
“Attention, everyone,” he says. “This is your King speaking.”
I roll my eyes and slam the locker door.
“If I could have you all gather in the Upper Banquet Hall, I have an announcement to make. I know it’s nearly showtime, but this won’t take long. See you all up there in five minutes.”
A very bad feeling settles in my bones as I hear Len’s message. Perhaps I can intercept him or somehow lock him in his office? Does that even work in real life or just movies? Or maybe I can find Layla and everyone else and tell them the truth before Len does?
But there’s no time. And so I trudge with everyone else in the Castle into the Upper Banquet Hall. Dread coils in my belly like a rattlesnake about to strike.
The Upper Banquet Hall is usually reserved for Corporate training events, big private parties, or meetings. It’s huge, but there are over a hundred of us working tonight, and we’re practically elbow to elbow as we crowd into the room.
Wenches, Squires, Knights, the Falconer, the Fool, all the gift shop employees, cooks, and everyone else in between whisper to each other. Layla is waiting for me near the back of the room. I squeeze in beside her.
“Hey, friend,” she whispers.
This is going to be awful. I just know it. I try to layer all my apologies and good intentions and the reasons I lied into the hug I give Layla.
“What’s this all about?” asks Alex, slipping into the spot beside Layla and me. Jett waves at me from across the room. He’s still in street clothes and must be running late tonight.
“I ha
ve no idea,” I say. Though the sinking feeling in my stomach tells me it can’t be good.
“You okay?” Layla asks. She puts her finger under my chin and lifts it up. “You’re looking a little green.”
“Len demoted me to a lower stable hand,” I say through my teeth.
“WHAT?” says Mags. She and Lizzy have pushed their way through the crowd to join us.
“He can’t do that,” says Penny, standing beside us. She smells like bubblegum and cigarettes. “You can’t let him do that. What was his—”
Len’s voice interrupts her righteous indignation.
“Hello, everyone!” he calls out over the dull roar of a hundred people gossiping. “I know we’ve got a show to do, but I’ve gathered you here for a quick chat. So, shut up for a few and let me get it over with.”
A few people laugh, but even more of them roll their eyes. Layla threads her arm through mine and I lean into her.
“As I’m sure many of you have heard, the Castle’s been in the news quite a lot lately. Thanks to the efforts of our very own Kit Sweetly—”
“And her friends!” calls out Layla.
“And her friends,” says Len, inclining his head in our direction.
I immediately wish she hadn’t said that. Len’s now going to know who at least one of my coconspirators is.
Every person in the room turns to look at us. I know now what someone in a dinghy surrounded by sharks feels like.
“Thanks to Kit and her friends,” continues Len, “we’ve gotten a lot of attention. Some of it’s been great—we’re booked solid for the next few weeks and there’s a waiting list for Friday’s show. I don’t need to tell you what good news this is. But there is something I need to say.”
I bite my lip.
“While Corporate appreciates all the new guests, they want you to know that nothing is changing at the Castle. We’re not changing the gender restrictions and they informed me that they told Kit this last week via email.”
There’s a low murmur throughout the room. Layla drops my arm and all my friends gape at me.