Page 40 of The Life and (Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly

She points to a book of travel essays under the bills. “This is about a woman who left home after a brutal divorce. And now she lives all over the world, making friends, trying out new things, and really taking a slow approach to travel.”

I flip the book over and skim the back copy. “Please don’t leave us just yet. I’m not sure I can make it through my freshman year without you around.”

Mom smiles at me, her tired, worn-out smile looking a bit less run down. “Of course not. It’ll take me a year to save enough money for my plans, but getting this house off our hands will be a huge first step.”

I take a deep breath. I guess I’d never thought about this house not being ours. Or about Mom not being in it. But everything she says makes sense. And if she does this, then maybe I can use the money from my promotion to knighthood just for school. “If this is what you really want, go for it,” I say. “Have you told Chris?”

“Not yet, but I will soon. And your father should be coming around in the next few days. He’s supposed to bring me the papers to finalize things.”

“What changed his mind?”

Mom shrugs. “Not sure. But I’m so glad he did.”

“Me too, Mom.”

AFTER MY TALK WITH MOM, I HEAD BACK TO MY ROOM. There’s still a pile of homework to do, but I can’t face it. It’s still spring break for the next three days, and some part of me feels like I better spend as much time as possible relaxing in my room before this house is no longer ours.

My phone dings that I’ve got a new email, and I pop it open.

It’s from the Castle email address where I sent my idea for the contest.

My heart goes zooming around my chest. This could be good or bad. Depending on what they think. Steeling myself, I click on it.

Ms. Sweetly,

Thank you for your refreshing suggestion about how to change things at the Castle. Although we appreciate your idea, we don’t feel that this sort of radical change really fits with the Castle branding. As such, we’ll have to pass on your idea at this time.

We do appreciate all your hard work at the Castle and without Wenches like you, we couldn’t do what we do.

Best,

The Castle Committee for Guest Engagement.

I read it again. And then again.

Oh no. No, no, no, no.

I feel like I’ve just been shoved off a very tall building. One I was so excited to get to the top of, and then whoosh. All the air is gone from my lungs and I’m tumbling head over heels toward the ground.

How could they say no?

I gnaw on a fingernail as I read the email again.

Everything I was working for depended on the Castle committee saying yes. And for them to send such a perfunctory “nope” and then try to compliment me for wenching?

Infuriating. And not how this story is supposed to go!

Especially not now that I’ve told everyone we’re riding in the show a week from tomorrow.

How am I going to tell them we have to cancel? That all their hard work is for nothing? That the Castle doesn’t really care about them, but hey, “thanks for wenching!”

I don’t know where to hurl my anger, so I pick up a book and fling it at the wall.

It tumbles into a sword, which somehow manages to both clatter to the ground and knock over like half the photos on my dresser.

“GAHHHHH!” I scream, giving voice to the maelstrom of feelings inside me. This is so fucking wrong. And my friends are going to be so upset.

And it’s all my fault.