“So why don’t they call them knights?” asked Beatrice.
Clarke shrugged. “Good question.”
“If they might as well be knights, then it’s just stupid not to call them knights.”
“Most definitely,” said Beatrice.
“To be sure,” agreed Clarke.
Beatrice beamed. “So who should Aunt Ceci be?”
“I think she should be Morgan le Fay,” said Clarke. “She’s King Arthur’s half sister. She’s intelligent, cunning, and she challenges male authority. Given your Aunt Ceci is the only female F1 team principal, I’d say she fits that description perfectly.”
That got her to look over.
The girls clapped their hands.
“We haven’t done a girl yet,” said Sofia.
Sitting on the floor and leaning up against the sofa, the two of them got to work creating her avatar.
Clarke looked over their shoulders. “No, the hair is …”
“Lighter?”
“No, not lighter.” He looked over at Ceci, who was now staring back at him. “Maybe, brighter? Kind of sparkly, like a diamond or when the sun hits the water. But not all the hair, just some of it, so it’s sparkling, but in between stalks of wheat.”
Sofia and Beatrice stared back at him with blank expressions.
“I don’t suppose they have anything like that to choose from.”
They shook their heads.
“Okay, blonde then. But”—he pointed his index finger at the screen— “the outline is sort of …”
They waited.
“You know, the, the—”
Just say it already.
“The lines, the shape …”
“The body?” Beatrice ventured.
“Right. That. Here,” he said to the girls, “hand me the laptop.”
He kept his head down, lifting only his eyes to look at her. “I don’t suppose you’d stand up.”
She folded her arms and scoffed. “No.”
“That’s okay,” he said, turning his eyes back to the screen. “I can do it from memory.”
Once he was finished, he handed the laptop back to the girls, who clapped their hands.
“That is Aunt Ceci!”
“Most definitely!”
