White Knights

by Julie Moffett

  “Now you sound like Gwen.”

  “We happen to be related, you know. I do occasionally know what I’m talking about.”

  “Occasionally.”

  I acted annoyed, but when I went to sleep later that night, I might have had a little smile on my face.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ANGEL SINCLAIR

  I intended to get up early to do more research on IMES technology. Unfortunately, I must have hit the snooze button on my alarm twelve times. I only woke up after my mom yelled at me to come get breakfast. I quickly pulled on my uniform polo shirt and skirt, then yanked on my socks, hopping on one foot at a time. I shoved my laptop into my backpack and carried it and my shoes out of my room and dumped them by the front door. After yesterday’s view of Frankie’s socks, I made sure mine were even before running my fingers through my hair as an alternative to combing it.

  Mom had already fixed me a couple pieces of toast and some orange juice. I slid into my chair and took a bite of the toast. Mom brought her coffee to the table and sat in her seat.

  “After you went to bed, I called my friend who works at the hospital.” She blew on her coffee and then sipped it. “Mr. Matthews is still in the intensive care unit. But he’s improving. He actually awoke and was lucid for a short time last night.”

  My toast dropped to my plate. “Really?”

  “Really. Naturally, the police were summoned. He spoke with them for a few minutes before he had to be sedated again.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I have no idea. But I do know Ryan. I’m sure everything will get straightened out.”

  “Mom, how well do you know Mr. Matthews?”

  “We’ve socialized outside the school. You know we’re friends.”

  “Did you know he got hurt in Iraq? He doesn’t have any legs.”

  “Of course I know. But his prosthetic legs are so natural, you can’t tell.”

  My eyes widened. “You knew? All this time? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Why would I? It wouldn’t be my place. If Mr. Matthews wanted you to know, he’d tell you. Speaking of that, how did you find out?”

  “I went with a couple of students to the hospital to visit him. That’s when we found out.”

  “That was a nice gesture. Was he able to accept visitors?”

  “No, he was still unconscious. But that’s how we found out about the prostheses. No one at the school knew. I mean the kids, at least.”

  “Exactly.” She took another sip of her coffee and rose. Walking to the sink, she rinsed her mug and put it in the dishwasher. “It wasn’t my secret to tell. Come on, I’ll drop you at the bus stop.”

  During the bus ride to school, I kept thinking about what my mom had said. Mr. Matthews hadn’t wanted the students to know about his legs. Still, I figured if my mom knew, then Headmistress Swanson must have known, too. Maybe all the teachers knew.

  When the bus dropped me off, I headed for my locker. Today there was no Wally or Frankie. It was strange, but I had started to expect them. I was pulling books out of my backpack when a hand slapped against the locker next to mine. Nic stood there, a smug look on his face.

  “Ready for the quiz today in Latin?” he asked.

  Oh, shoot. I knew there was something I’d forgotten to do.

  I shrugged, faking nonchalance. “Of course I’m ready. You worried I’ll show you up?”

  “Not in the slightest, because I happen know you didn’t pick up the study guide.”

  “Ew, Nic. Are you stalking me? Because that’s seriously creepy.”

  “Just putting you on notice. Get ready to fall behind me.”

  “You need to get a life. Seriously.”

  “I’ve got one. Admit it, you hate that I’m smarter than you.”

  “To be perfectly honest, I don’t even give you a passing thought.”

  He sneered. “Be careful. Mr. Matthews isn’t around anymore to protect you.”

  I turned to face him, disgusted. “You’re unbelievable. Mr. Matthews is in the hospital and you’re acting like this?”

  Nic shrugged. “Like what? He never did anything for me. I’m sick of his constant lectures about kindness, sensitivity, and crap like that. Blah, blah, blah. He’s soft. He should show more backbone.”

  He was pushing my buttons, but I couldn’t stop myself from replying. “He’s better than any ten of you. I hope you flunk.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, I bet you do. But I won’t. I’m looking forward to stepping on you on my way to the top.”

  He sauntered off. I started to slam my locker shut, but grabbed my Latin book at the last second. I might be able to do a quick review before the test in math class.

  I managed to get a lot of studying done in math, so I felt prepared for the test. Nic smirked at me as I turned in my paper. I ignored him. He wasn’t worth my anger or attention.

  Wally and Frankie joined me at the lunch table. I was used to eating alone, but this was the second day in a row they’d sat with me. It was odd, but at the same time, I kind of didn’t mind.

  “Well, it’s official,” Wally said, placing his lunch tray on the table and sitting beside me.

  “What’s official?” Frankie opened her milk and stuck a straw in. I slid a little bit away from her. Today her hair was in a bun with what looked like black chopsticks sticking out of it. I didn’t want to sit too close to her in case she turned her head suddenly and poked out my eye.

  “I’m going to spearhead a fund-raiser for Mr. Matthews,” Wally announced.

  “You’re doing what?” I looked at him in astonishment, setting down the sandwich I’d just lifted to my lips.

  “I asked Headmistress Swanson this morning if I could lead a fund-raiser to help Mr. Matthews with his legal bills. I figure if we can raise even a few hundred dollars, it will help.”

  “Wally, I’m beyond impressed.” I had a new appreciation for him. “That’s really nice.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way, because I told her you and Frankie were helping me.”

  “What?” I pushed my tray to the side and leaned my elbows on the table. “You’re joking, right? Now you want me to serve on two committees?”

  He took a bite of a hamburger that looked like someone had stepped on it. Watery ketchup dribbled off one side. “Yep. You didn’t think I could do this on my own, did you?”

  I sighed in exasperation, searching for ways to get out of it. I couldn’t see a clear exit strategy. Somehow, it had happened again. Dang it. I’d been dragged into another social thing. Even if it was for a good cause, committees were not my thing. When had I lost control of my life?

  “What do you have in mind?” I asked carefully. Unfortunately, the conversation had completely ruined my appetite, not that it was solely Wally’s fault. The limp french fries on my tray looked soggy and gross.

  “The Medieval Melee.”

  I stared at him, waiting for him to burst out laughing. He didn’t. “No way.”

  “Way. Not kidding in the slightest.”

  “What’s the Medieval Melee?” Frankie placed a couple of fries on top of her hamburger before smashing the bun on and taking a bite.

  “It’s a part of the Medieval Fair Excalibur Academy holds every spring,” I explained. “The fair is the school’s most lucrative fund-raiser. Everyone dresses in period garb and pays a fee to play a wide variety of games and eat food inspired by that time. Excalibur Academy, get it?”

  “I get it. Sounds like fun,” Frankie said. “I’ll have to start thinking of my costume. Plus, the food sounds yummy.”

  “It is if you like chicken legs, porridge, honey cakes, and that kind of thing,” I confirmed. “But the best part is the games. In addition to the melee, there’s an archery game, a climbing tower, a Test o’ Strength game, and a bunch of others.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “The most popular event, by far, is the Medieval Melee, however.” Wally placed his forearms on the table and leaned forward. “If
we’re going to earn decent money for Mr. Matthews, this is how we do it.”

  I had to give it to Wally. It was a sound strategy. If there were one thing Excalibur students loved, it was the melee. “It’s good thinking, Wally. I can’t believe Headmistress Swanson agreed.”

  “I can be persuasive when I have to.” Wally grinned. “Plus, she likes Mr. Matthews. I fully leveraged that. But we’re on our own. She’s letting us conduct the game on the football field since the actual season doesn’t start until next week. We can also use the props, but this is a wholly student-led activity. By that, I mean the three of us.”

  “Figures,” I grumbled.

  “What do you have to do for this Medieval Melee?” Frankie asked.

  I pushed my tray aside and grabbed the salt and pepper shakers. “It’s played on the football field and is a variation of paintball without the paint or the balls.”

  “Okay, that made no sense at all.” Frankie speared a canned peach with her fork and nibbled a corner of it.

  “That’s because I’m not finished explaining. The goal is to capture a fake sword embedded in a cardboard stone at opposing end zones.” I placed the saltshaker at one end of the table and the pepper at the other to demonstrate.

  “Oh, a sword in the stone reference.” Frankie grinned. “Excalibur. Medieval. I get it.”

  “Exactly. The field is covered with obstacles and objects for players to hide behind as they advance to capture the sword. Each team has ten players. Everyone wears a white T-shirt and is given a marshmallow popper.”

  “What’s a marshmallow popper?” Frankie asked.

  “It’s like a paint gun, but it’s not gun shaped,” Wally explained. “The school was clear about the no-gun thing—not even toy guns—so we compromised. The popper is a long plastic tube with a spring inside connected to a lever on top to launch the projectile. But instead of marshmallows, we use powdered sugar.”

  “Powdered sugar balls?” Frankie’s eyes widened. “That sounds cool.”

  “It is cool,” I agreed. “Each team has a specific color of sugar. If you are hit with the opposing team’s powder, you are out. You freeze in your spot.”

  “Okay, so, who plays?” Frankie asked.

  “Usually the jocks play each other,” Wally said. “But since I’m in charge this time around, I’m changing things up a bit.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “How do you intend to do that?”

  “I’m going to have two teams, the Brains and the Trains—or in layman’s language, the geeks versus the jocks.”

  “What?” I frowned at Wally. “Are you nuts? The geeks will get crushed.”

  “Please. I do have a strategy. We’re going to get Colt McCarrell to agree to be on the Brains’ team. With him as the Brains’ leader, and likely the best shooter, the geeks might stand a chance.”

  “That sounds good in theory, but how exactly are we going to get Colt and the geeks to sign up for this?”

  Wally pointed at me. “You’ll take care of Colt. I’ll take care of the geeks.”

  I looked at him incredulously. “Me?”

  He plucked a pickle from beneath the hamburger bun and popped it in his mouth. “Don’t act all shocked. I heard from Michelle Knot who heard from Lucy Shoemaker that Colt sat next to you in AP Chemistry. You could have told me you had a thing going on.” Ketchup was smeared across his chin.

  “There is no thing going on.” I threw a napkin at him. “Besides, how does Colt sitting next to me in AP Chemistry translate into me getting him to front the Brains for the melee?”

  “You’ll have the perfect opportunity to talk to him. Just ask him with a pretty flutter of your eyelashes. Or if that fails, promise to do his homework or something.”

  My cranky meter was rising at an exponential rate. “I am not asking Colt to do anything. He doesn’t need me to do his homework. He’s smart enough to do it himself.” I crossed my arms against my chest.

  “Don’t care. It’s up to you how you ask.” Wally dabbed at his chin. “But you’re our only hope. If Colt is involved, the entire school will come. The athletes will come to challenge him. The geeks will sign up to play because they might have a prayer to win if he’s their captain. If the jocks show, the girls will come—and that includes the cheerleaders. If girls in short skirts are there, the geek guys will be, too.”

  “As long as the geek guys don’t act like entitled jerks toward the girls in short skirts. Trust me, that’s been my Comic-Con experience in the past.”

  Wally narrowed his eyes. “No one will bother the girls on my watch. Anyway, the bottom line is, we’ll have the entire school in one place, ready to empty their pockets for a good cause. It’s a win-win scenario.”

  Frankie pointed her straw at me. “He’s got a point, Angel. It could bring the entire school out—geeks and jocks—for Mr. Matthews.”

  I tried to think of a way to get out of it. “Look, I’ll be honest. I don’t know Colt well enough to ask him to do something like that.”

  “It’s easy,” Wally said. “Open your mouth and say please. He likes you well enough to sit next to you in chemistry. That has to mean something.”

  “It means there was an open seat next to me,” I countered.

  “That’s enough for me.” Wally popped the rest of his hamburger in his mouth and swallowed it with a drink of milk. “You’re elected.”

  “Okay, so we get the jocks and brains to agree to play each other,” Frankie interrupted. “That’s great, but more importantly, how do we get the students to empty their pockets?”

  “There has to be a fee to play in the melee,” Wally answered. “Let’s say ten bucks a person. We can ask for a donation from spectators as they enter the rally. Since it’s a fund-raiser and not an official school activity, we can’t require payment for entrance. But I think most kids would give something anyway.”

  “I think you overestimate the generosity of the human race at Excalibur,” I muttered. I picked up the apple from my tray and started to take a bite.

  “Wait. Don’t eat that,” Frankie warned me.

  I froze with my open mouth a millimeter from the skin. Slowly I lowered the apple. “Why not?”

  “Excalibur buys the apples from FarmBites Ltd.”

  “So?”

  “So, FarmBites is under investigation for human rights violations of its workers. By eating that apple, you will be supporting a company that is showing blatant disregard for the human condition. I notified Headmistress Swanson of this grievous fact yesterday, and she promised to look into it. However, until then, I urge you to reconsider eating that.”

  “You told the headmistress not to buy apples on your second day at a new school?”

  “Of course.”

  I set the apple down and picked up my tray, emptying the entire thing into the trash just as the bell rang, signaling an end to our lunch.

  “Are we getting together again after school?” Frankie asked hopefully.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “I’ve got a chemistry quiz to study for, a four-page essay to write for African history, and some computer science homework for my Georgetown course. I also want to do some more research on the things we discussed yesterday.” I looked over my shoulder. No one was paying me any attention, thankfully, but I lowered my voice anyway. “You know on what.”

  Wally nodded. “Okay, I’ll do some more poking around, too. Keep in mind, the melee is scheduled for next Wednesday evening, so we don’t have a lot of time.”

  “I’ll get started right away on the fund-raiser posters and graphics for social media.” Frankie stood holding her tray and stepped past me toward the trash. “Someone has to advertise this, right?”

  Wally patted her on the back. “You’re great, Frankie. Best volunteer I’ve ever had.”

  “The only volunteer you’ve ever had,” I corrected, but they ignored me.

  We parted ways, and the rest of the day was unremarkable except for AP Chemistry. I sat in the same spot as the previous two
days. Shortly after I entered, Colt came in and sat down right next to me.

  That made three times in a row. Wally was right. That couldn’t be random. He deliberately chose to sit next to me…for reasons unknown.

  “Hey, Angel,” Colt said, dropping his backpack to the floor. “How’s it going?” His brown hair fell over his forehead as he gave me a smile.

  “How’s it going? With me? It’s going. Time, that is. Because time goes along whether we want it to or not. It’s fluid like that.”

  I clamped my mouth shut, wishing for anything to put me out of my dorky misery.

  Colt looked confused now, not to mention sorry he asked. He pulled out his chemistry book and notebook, getting ready for the lab. I wanted to give myself a bracing head slap but didn’t see how that would make me any less of a moron.

  For most of the class, Colt and I didn’t talk. Instead we dutifully filled out the study guide for the quiz and listened to Mr. Jackson tell us what things would be on it. At the end of the period, Mr. Jackson informed us we’d have to choose lab partners.

  Luckily, that did not include me, so I exhaled a breath of relief. Last year, Ms. Merriam let me off the hook in terms of a lab partner because I was working on complicated experiments under her direct supervision. I assumed Mr. Jackson would do the same. No lab partner required for me.

  Colt turned his head. “Would you like to be my lab partner, Angel?”

  “Sure,” I said without one second of hesitation.

  Holy freaking crap. I had no idea what had happened to the girl who never wanted to work with a lab partner. Suddenly I was thrilled with the prospect of working with a partner on what were sure to be way-too-easy experiments.

  Colt gave me a smile—a dazzling smile—and closed his book. “That’s great. I’ll let Mr. Jackson know. By the way, are you interested in studying together for the quiz tonight?”

  “You want to study with me? Tonight?”

  What the heck was even happening right now? Was I in the twilight zone or something?

  “You’re my lab partner, right?” he said.

  I gulped. “Right.”

  “Great. Where do you live?”