“Gracias,” Anna whispered, and Arthur nodded. Then Anna shifted her gaze toward her mother, who stood to one side, hand still to her mouth in shock.
Arthur glanced up toward heaven. “Gracias, Señor,” he whispered tiredly, his boys staring at him in silent bewilderment.
Jaime’s mom bolted for the bed, and the prayer chain broke as the boys stood to let her through. Throwing back the plastic tent, she reached in and gently touched her daughter’s face, stroked it in joyous disbelief, her eyes filling with tears.
Anna just smiled. “I’m okay, Mama, don’t cry. I feel much better.” Her voice sounded small and raspy, but strong and assured.
Mom drew her hand back and turned to Arthur. She said nothing, merely threw herself around him in a tight hug of joy and gratitude. Sonia grabbed Jaime’s hand and squeezed, while Esteban and Darnell high-fived each other. What had they just witnessed? Miracle? Coincidence? Mark and Jack asked themselves the same question, arms around each other’s shoulders as they basked in the glow of the girl’s recovery.
Arthur held Jaime’s mother tight in his arms a moment, accepting her silent, tearful thanks, but his questioning eyes drifted to Esteban and locked on those of the boy.
Tired and confused about what had happened, Esteban felt tight with emotion. He gazed at Arthur, into the man’s compassionate brown eyes, held the gaze a moment, then sighed and nodded. “Okay, Arthur, no payback,” he whispered quietly, but then added, “for now.”
Arthur grinned with relief and released Jaime’s mom. He motioned to the other boys to leave the family alone, and a tired, confused group of youngsters left the room and the hospital, not fully comprehending what they had done but knowing it had been something important. And that was enough.
Chapter 7
EARLY that morning, the Hollenbeck Station was bustling with activity. The drive-by the night before was on everyone’s radar. It was the first in a long while, and did not bode well for the coming days. One drive-by led to another and to another, like the domino effect. All units were on high alert, and extra patrol cars had been sent to cruise the most likely neighborhoods for retaliation.
Gibson strode quickly to Ryan’s desk and tossed down the morning paper. “Hey, Ry, looks like we missed a chance to nab our king.”
Ryan was on his computer, triangulating possible retaliation sites for patrol when the paper landed atop his keyboard.
“Check it out.”
Ryan stared at the Los Angeles Times with its above-the-fold headline: King Arthur Leads Prayer Vigil Over Drive-by Victim.
“Hellfire! He was there all night and nobody called us?”
Gibson shrugged. “I guess nobody wanted to. If you read the story, they all think he performed some kinda miracle. Docs said that girl was a goner till this guy and his kids showed up.”
“Damn it!” Ryan threw down the paper and snatched up another pencil, which he began gnawing furiously. “He was with them gangbangers, so we know what kinda trash he’s recruiting. Question is, why? What are they up to? Any sign of payback for that little girl?”
Gibson shook his head. “No.”
“There will be.” Ryan was sure of that. These gangbangers were nothing if not predictable.
But Gibson wasn’t so sure. “I wonder.”
Ryan furiously snapped his pencil and threw the pieces onto the newspaper.
A VERY tired but enthusiastic group followed Arthur back through the tunnels to The Hub, not speaking much, each entangled within his own thoughts about what they had witnessed during the night. Darnell had left to go on home, but the rest filed in quietly, almost with reverence. As they entered The Hub, Esteban spotted Reyna sitting against the wall of one of the tunnels and scowled.
She looked up and saw him mad-dogging her, and leapt to her feet. “Este, what—”
But he didn’t wait for her to finish. He disappeared down another tunnel to change his clothes.
Arthur walked silently to his throne and sat tiredly, exhausted from the night’s exertions.
Lance, however, witnessed the exchange and stepped into the tunnel to face Reyna. She looked tired and drawn, her makeup fading, her hair drooping. She must’ve been awake all night, he surmised.
“What you still doing here?”
She shrugged, fiddling with her luxurious ponytail hair, the unraveling strands giving her a frizzled look. “Wanted to find out what happened, I guess,” she said, trying to sound disinterested, but failing. Her well-trimmed, pencil-thin eyebrows rose questioningly. “Well?”
Lance sighed, pushing his own draping hair out of his eyes. Man, was he tired. “The girl’s okay,” he said, smiling, but bewildered. “I don’ know what happened, really. She was like, dying, and then Arthur prayed over her all night. I mean, we all, like, formed a prayer circle, but it was Arthur who did it, Reyna. I don’ know. It was… it was like a miracle or something.” He trailed off uncertainly.
For the first time, Reyna felt as dumbfounded as she must’ve looked. “Wow,” she whispered. “I never saw a real miracle before.”
“Me, neither,” replied Lance with a tired grin. He eyed her appraisingly. “So why didn’t you go?”
She mimicked shivering and just shook her head. “Me? Down there with all those people.”
Lance was confused. “What people?”
Reyna looked at him like he was stupid. “You know, poor people.”
Lance looked her right in the eye, not easy with a girl that intimidating. “You mean like me?”
Reyna’s mouth became an O, and she protested, “No, you’re not like them.”
Lance almost laughed. “Reyna, I practically grew up in that place. It was like going home.”
Her face fell, and she genuinely felt bad for him. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”
Lance gazed at her, his eyes searching her very soul. “I thought you said you didn’t wanna be like your parents, you didn’t wanna be a hater?”
“I don’t,” she protested, and fell silent. God, he was right—she was becoming her parents. Just then her cell beeped, and she used the distraction to break eye contact with him. She didn’t want him to see how right he was.
She glanced at the text. It was from Salma again, asking her to please call, that she was so worried. God, that woman was annoying.
Lance noted her expression as she read the text. “Problem?”
Reyna shook her head in consternation. “It’s just Salma wanting to know where I am. She never leaves me alone.”
“Who’s Salma?” Lance asked. “That actress chick?” He smiled to let her know he was joking.
“No, fool, Salma is my housekeeper,” Reyna responded with annoyance, flicking a few loose strands of hair off her face. “God, she thinks she’s my mother or something.”
“How long she worked there?”
She shrugged. “My whole life, I guess, since I was a baby.”
Lance eyed her in wonder. Such lavish lifestyles were beyond his ability to comprehend. “She got kids of her own?” he asked, curious.
Reyna considered a moment. “No, she’s live-in. She don’t got any kids except—” Then she stopped, and her soft brown eyes opened wide, “’cept me.”
Lance smiled and shrugged. “Then maybe she is mom. Sounds like she’s just worried ’bout you, that’s all. Wish I had somebody like that growing up.” And he meant it too. He’d have done almost anything to have had a mother who loved him and cared what happened to him, instead of one who’d sold him for drugs. He shoved that memory down his throat and focused on the gaping older girl before him.
Reyna gazed at the boy in astonishment, and then she grinned, lighting up her beautiful face. “You know what I hate even more than a boy younger and prettier who can shoot better than me?”
Lance laughed. “No, what?”
“A boy who’s younger, prettier, and smarter than me.”
Lance reddened with embarrassment, but she just smiled warmly, genuinely feeling grateful to this boy and his uncan
ny wisdom. She leaned in and kissed him on the lips.
He felt a distinct tingle of pleasure suffuse his entire body, and knew he’d turned even redder in the face, and then she pulled back.
“Wow” was all he could utter, not sure what he was feeling, but blushing all the same.
She tossed her head back with that causal laugh of hers. “Thank you, Lance,” she said with real sincerity. “You’re too young and pretty for me, but one a these days some girl’s gonna snatch you up.”
Lance dropped his gaze. “I hope so. I’m just not, you know, ready yet.” He looked shyly back up to find her still smiling. She understood. Then her smile faded, and her gaze locked on something behind him. Lance turned to find Esteban, back in his regular street clothes, watching them, his expression unreadable.
“Like I said,” Reyna went on, and Lance turned his face back to her. “You’re smarter ’an me.” She squeezed both arms gently, then released him and stepped to Esteban.
He merely gazed at her in silence, his eyes smoldering, wondering how in the hell he could’ve been attracted to someone like her, a coldhearted bitch like her! But something in her demeanor at this moment disarmed his anger. There was something in her eyes he’d never seen there, something almost… real.
“Este,” she began haltingly. “I’m, like, I’m sorry I didn’t go with you last night. Like Lance said, I’m becoming my parents, and I sure as hell don’t wanna be them!”
Esteban glanced over at Lance, who pretended to be unclasping his leather jerkin, and then back into Reyna’s deep brown eyes and long, wavy lashes. God, she was hot! But he didn’t say that. “Whatever” was all that came out. “I gotta get home, check on my moms and lil’ sis.”
He turned and started down the tunnel.
“Este?” she called after him. He turned, annoyance creasing his young, hard face. “Maybe someday I could meet ’em? Your mom and sister?”
Esteban shrugged again but tossed her a slight smile. “Sure. Someday.” Then he turned and disappeared into the darkness.
Reyna turned to Lance, who was grinning at her. She pantomimed punching him, and he just laughed.
After Lance went off to find Arthur, Reyna pulled out her cell phone and thumbed in the following message: Sorry to worry u, Salma. Fell asleep friends house. On way hme. Thnx for caring.
Feeling as though she’d crossed a major threshold, but not quite sure what it was, she slipped the phone back into her pocket and set off for home.
As Lance wandered about The Hub, he observed various boys practicing with weapons or lifting weights Jack had found tossed in a dumpster. That reminded him about Jack offering to teach him muscle-building techniques, and he vowed to remind the bigger boy of his promise. Maybe that would make things better between them. Just thinking about Jack brought Reyna’s kiss back into his mind. He trembled, and a chill ran up his back.
Afraid to even wonder why he’d put those two images together, he shook off the confusion and stopped to observe a few boys practicing the art of courtliness by pretending one was a lady and having the other bow to her. They laughed and playfully punched each other every time.
Arthur sat on his throne wearily watching Enrique put the finishing touches on a large banner. It depicted the A symbol with a dragon brandishing Excalibur in the background.
Lance stepped to Arthur’s side, and the king smiled warmly at him. “I thank ye, my Lance, for thy prayers last night.”
Lance nodded, pushing Jack and Reyna from his mind. “Arthur, do you think that was a miracle when that girl didn’t die?”
“Perhaps,” replied the king thoughtfully. “But perhaps the true miracle was the joining together of sworn enemies to preserve the life of one lowly child.”
Lance considered those words and then grinned broadly.
THE next day, Jenny trudged across campus, exhausted and carrying more books from the library to her room. Maybe this summer, I’ll buy my own cart, she mused as she walked. Her mind was on the story she’d seen on the news yesterday, about Arthur’s “miracle” with the little girl. The man confounded her, and she considered herself a good judge of people. But this guy was an enigma. She had to find out more about him. Lance was the key, but he hadn’t been to school in forever. With summer break mere days away, she doubted she’d see him again.
Wending her away in and around the caution tape, dodging milling students, she nearly collided with Karla, a slim, attractive African-American and fellow English teacher, one of the few instructors around here she really liked.
Jenny looked up, startled, and almost dropped her books. “Oh, sorry, Karla, I didn’t see you.”
Karla just laughed. “No wonder, with that pile of books blocking your eyes. Let me help.”
She grabbed the top four books, leaving Jenny with the bottom four. Her arms immediately felt better. “Thanks, Karla.”
As she walked beside Jenny toward Building Eight, Karla asked, “Hey, Jen, you ever see Lance again?” She wouldn’t know—she only taught seniors.
Jenny shook her head. “No. And there hasn’t been anything new on King Arthur since that gang shooting, either.”
They stopped at Jenny’s door, and she fumbled with her keys while balancing the books.
“What’s that got to do with Lance?” Karla asked.
“A lot, I think,” Jenny replied, turning the knob and pulling open the door. As usual, it screamed on its hinges like a banshee. “He’s been hanging out with that guy, and I think our missing students, the gang kids, are with him too.”
Karla deposited the books onto a student desk and turned to face Jenny, one hand to her hip in consternation. “Honey, I don’t care if they’re hangin’ with the Pied Piper, long as I don’t have ’em in my classes.”
Jenny set down her own load and frowned at Karla. “But they should be in school.”
“What for?”
Jenny was shocked. “Karla, you’re a teacher!”
Karla shook her head. “Honey, I’m a realist. Those kids aren’t learnin’ anything here. Maybe this guy’ll teach ’em somethin’ we can’t, somethin’ useful.”
Jenny wanted to argue, but found she had nothing to say. Maybe Karla was right. She needed to find out. She needed to find Lance.
WITHIN The Hub, lunch was coming to a close, and the cleanup began. Since they did not want to pollute the environment where they lived and trained, nor, Arthur reminded them, did they want to make the city at large even trashier, a group of boys always collected all of the garbage into large leaf bags and tied them off. The bottles and cans were gathered for recycling, since money could be made there.
Every few days, groups of boys would load trash bags onto Radio Flyer wagons they’d brought from home, or shopping carts they’d found abandoned, and take everything to the nearest city dump. Arthur and Lance had it very well organized, and Arthur had put Mark and Jack in charge of making sure the operation was carried out.
Observing the cleanup, Arthur felt pleased. He felt good about this campaign, this crusade. Thus far, there were no signs of the splinters that had cracked open his original Camelot. Of course, that Camelot had endured for decades before it fell, and this one was only in its infancy. Still, the signs were positive.
Oh, Merlin, he wondered, if only you could be here to see what you have wrought, forsooth it has to have been put in place by you! He’d decided some time back that only Merlin could be the explanation for his being here in this era with all the tools necessary for this campaign. Which often caused his mind to wonder why Merlin himself hadn’t appeared in the flesh. Are you out there, old friend, watching and waiting? Testing me again?
Lance approached Arthur and bowed before speaking. “Arthur, before we begin our discussion time, can I ask you a question that’s been bugging me?”
“Ye may ask anything, Lance,” Arthur replied easily.
Lance frowned. “A couple of times I heard you say the name ‘Lancelot’, which sort of sounds like my name. Who was he?”
<
br /> Arthur sighed heavily. “Lancelot was my best friend, and my most skilled knight. Like you, he was good and pure and indispensable to me. Your name is, I be certain, no coincidence.”
Lance digested that a moment before asking, “Well, what happened to him?”
Arthur’s eyes took on a faraway expression as he thought back to those long ago, painful times. “Ye mayst recall, Lance, when I spoke of my son attempting to overthrow me, I mentioned my best friend.”
Lance’s eyes bulged wide with shock. “He’s the one who hooked up with your wife?”
Arthur couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s choice of words. What a world this is, he mused. Then he nodded. “Yes, they fell in love, my Gwen and Lance, and it was their love—an act of treason under mine own laws—that brought Camelot to its knees.”
Lance nodded soberly. That was a sad story. It made him feel chilly inside, like he’d just swallowed something cold and unsatisfying. “Did you love her?”
Arthur nodded again. “I loved them both. That is what made it all so tragic.”
There was something in Arthur’s voice, a note of sad music that caught Lance’s heart and pulled it tighter in his chest. Arthur sounded so wistful, so momentarily lost that Lance desperately sought to comfort him. “Well don’t worry, Arthur, I’ll never betray you like they did!”
Arthur smiled and placed a hand on Lance’s broadening shoulder. The boy’s soft, eager face gazed up at him so earnestly that Arthur’s own heart lodged in his throat. How I love this boy! Should he say it, and envelop the child in a loving embrace, or might the others be jealous if he showed such favoritism? He hesitated, and the window of opportunity slipped away like the final traces of sunlight dissolving into night.
“Of that I doth be certain, Lance” was all he said instead.
The boy grinned, and Arthur stepped back from him, calling the assembly to order. He stood before his throne, Lance at his side, before an enormously swelling ocean of children. They spilled out into every tunnel. The little ones sat atop the shoulders of the big ones. More girls had joined in these past few days and were huddled around Reyna. Esteban and Darnell and Duc and Tai and many, many more of their homeboys were present.
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