Page 28 of The Life and (Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly

She shakes her head. “People are weird. So, how do we make you the next Alex from Target?”

I read another list: “According to this we need to ‘have quality content’—done—’know our audience and pair with influencers …’”

Layla laughs. “Do we know any influencers who care about the Castle?”

“Eddy Jackson?” I say, thinking about our favorite big tipper. “Maybe some of his friends will tweet something out?”

“Fair point. I’ll write him down and see if we can figure out how to contact him. What about others? Know any history professors or famous feminists? Besides Jett’s mom, who’s not even a little bit famous. Or on Twitter—I already asked. Do you think we can get Roxane Gay to retweet your video?”

“Oh sure, no problem. I’ll just call her.”

“It could happen,” protests Layla. “Might as well try.”

“We can try. But what we really need is like an army of a hundred thousand teens in on this. And moms. And Girl Scout troops. And people with little kids. We need them coming to the Castle to cheer us on for the statement it makes. And we need this to be bigger than me. I’m just a white girl from the suburbs. Maybe my privilege makes it easier for me to say this isn’t fair, but we need to show people that this is about more than just me doing a man’s job. It’s about getting rid of gender restrictions altogether.”

Layla chews on her pencil for a moment. “Agree. But how to convey that message?”

“Maybe in addition to Jett filming the training, we shoot bios of the other new Knights? Just to help people understand why changes at the Castle matter on both a general level and a personal one.”

“That’s a good plan. What else do we need to do?”

I skim another article. “It recommends we make interactive content too.”

“We can do that,” says Layla. She starts furiously clicking away on her laptop. “Open your Twitter for me.”

I haven’t even looked at my Twitter or Instagram in all this. But when I click on it on my phone, Layla whistles.

“You may only have—” she checks the views on the video, “sixty-five thousand views, but somebody found your social media. Look. They linked it to the video.”

My jaw drops. “That can’t be real.”

In one day, my Twitter has jumped from like three hundred followers (all friends, family, and people at school) to two thousand. And my Instagram is even higher.

Suddenly, I’m feeling a bit unsure about this whole thing. Like overexposed. Or too famous in a not-famous way. I let out a shaky breath.

“Breathe,” says Layla, offering me a bottle of water. “This is good and we can use it.”

Taking a few sips of water, I calm down.

“You’re right,” I say. “Okay, let’s link these accounts to the website and the petition. And let’s also drop a hint about the tournament.”

“I’m on it. Did you send your ideas to Corporate yet?”

I swear. “Knew I forgot something. I’ll do it now.”

As Layla clicks around, linking things to websites and my social media, I pull the crumpled flyer from my pocket. So much depends on the Castle seeing why this could be a good idea. It doesn’t matter if we go totally viral if they aren’t on board to make it all possible.

I write a long email, explaining why gender restrictions at the Castle are limiting and how we can change things for the better, and then I explain why this is more reflective of the Middle Ages. After all that, I link to my video, website, and the petition. Finally, I propose the tournament as the time for us new Knights to showcase our talent and skills.

With a deep breath and a prayer to the badass ladies of the Middle Ages, I hit Send.

The movie ended a while ago, and while she was waiting for me, Layla has painted a Godzilla monster onto one of her Kyoto temples. We decide to go get some pizza and stop by the Castle.

“Maybe we can run into Jett,” I say. “I’ve still got his backpack.”

“And how did you happen to come by that?” Layla says with a smirk.

I tell her quickly about Jett’s and my day in Milwaukee and getting into Marquette. After an appropriate amount of squealing about MU, she shoots me a look.