Page 24 of The Life and (Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly

“How’s it going?” I say, tapping him on the shoulder. He jumps about a foot and there’s a rattle as he drops the metal pole.

“Jesus, Kit. Warn a guy next time.” He smiles and takes off his headphones. There’s sweat on his upper lip, and even on this breezy spring day, it’s boiling in the shed. He nods toward the pile of silver rings at the end of the table. “Five thousand down, just fifteen thousand more to go.”

“Are you making chain mail for an elephant?” I unwrap one of the sandwiches and hold it out to him. He takes a bite without using his hands since they’re covered in giant gloves.

“It’s for a knee-length shirt,” he says through a mouthful of peanut butter. “I’m doing all the rings at once. It’s a rush order for an event out in California. Hoping to get a bunch of it done before work tonight.”

Making chain mail is a tedious process. You have to wind a length of wire around a long pole, snip it off with wire cutters into small rings, tighten the rings with pliers as you attach them to each other, and then fashion it all together into a shirt.

“Can I help?”

“A hundred fifty links to a row.” Chris nods toward a pair of pliers and some gloves as he devours both sandwiches.

Pulling on the gloves, I start pinching the rings together into a long line.

“Thanks for mowing the grass. Mom would’ve killed me if it wasn’t done.”

“No need to thank me. Thank you for taking my shift last night. What did you do today?”

I tell him about going to Milwaukee with Jett, leaving out the disappointment of the Joan of Arc chapel being fake but lingering on kites and my MU acceptance.

He drops his pliers. “Kit! Way to bury the lede!”

“What?” I try to make my voice sound like I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I can’t stop the smile that spreads over my face.

“You got in! That’s wonderful news!” He punches my shoulder lightly. “How do you feel about it?”

I punch him back. “Ugh. I’m super excited. And super worried about how we’re going to pay for it if I don’t get some of those scholarships. And super nervous. And super positive that I need to make more money this summer to save up. And super—”

“When do you find out about scholarships?”

I take a steadying breath, trying to calm the anxiety that creeps through my chest as I think about Marquette. “They didn’t say for sure, but it should be soon.”

Chris takes up his pliers again. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“Speaking of figuring things out, how did the talk with Len go?” I keep pinching rings together, my hands already aching.

Chris makes a dismissive noise, not looking up. “I don’t think you’re going to get fired. But Len’s pissed and he says you need to go talk to him before your next shift.”

At least that’s not for a few more days.

I sigh. I’d almost forgotten about the stress of the Castle during today’s perfect afternoon. “I’ll work it out with him. But I’m angry too. I did a good job yesterday! And the crowd loved it. I should be able to fight as a Knight. I’d go through the Squire training and everything. I just want the chance.”

“I know you do. But I don’t see how we can make it work.”

“Ahhhh, but I have a plan.”

Chris side eyes me. “A Kit Sweetly Official Plan?”

“You know it. And I need your help. Do you think you could train me and a few other people next week? It’s spring break, so we have lots of time.”

“Train you as Knights? In a week?” Chris shakes out his hand and begins on another row. “It takes a lot longer than a week for us current Knights to learn a new routine. And most of us have been doing this for years.”

“You don’t have to teach us everything,” I say quickly. “But we need to show Len and the Corporate folks that we can fight. And ride. And use a lance to catch rings.”

“Who do you have in mind for it?”

I shrug. “Me, Layla, and whoever else wants a chance. I’m going to ask around at the Castle and see. I bet there’s a ton of people just waiting to throw off the dominant patriarchal hegemony.”