Page 58 of The Life and (Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly

Have I trapped myself behind all the walls of my own plan?

But another voice whispers somewhere inside me, my mother’s voice: “Kit, if you don’t have a plan, life will just sweep you along in its current. That’s what happened to me. I got swept away and never found my footing. You can chart your own course and steer your own way.”

I’m not even sure what the way looks like anymore, and so I stand up and rip down the poster with “KIT’S BIG PLAN” written on it.

I can’t quite bring myself to throw it away, but I don’t want it staring at me either. Shoving it under my bed, I leave my room.

There are things to do. Tomorrow I can revise my big plan. Today I need to do the laundry, visit Chris, and do my homework.

I gather the laundry and the Sears Tower and head back out to the Volvo. A weary Lady Knight, leaving home again, for another day of questing with the most ordinary of dragons.

27

THE WASH BASKET LAUNDROMAT GLOWS LIKE A BEACON in the gloom of the afternoon. Rain falls in a steady, soft patter as I run from Chris’s car to the entrance. There’s only one other guy inside, a huge, bearded dude. He looks like the Mountain from Game of Thrones’s overgrown son. He takes up two chairs and the edge of a third. Part of me knows I should be sketched out, being all alone in here with him, but mostly I’m just tired. And needing to get back to the hospital with clean clothes for Mom.

I prop the door open and haul my hamper, two trash bags full of towels, and then a few bags of Mom’s and Chris’s laundry through the door. The bell jingles as I walk in, and the dude looks up from the copy of Powerlifting Elite he’s reading.

“Need some help?” he calls out. He starts to stand, but I shake my head.

“I’ve got it.” I lug the hamper toward the nearest machine and go back for the bags.

All the dryers are full, humming away with what I can only presume is an avalanche of laundry from the Mountain Jr.

I fill washers one through ten and then trudge to the industrial washers at the back, stuffing a bunch of towels into one and then filling the other with the remaining laundry. As I cram the last few washcloths in and get the cycle started, I imagine how the Girl Knight would stand up to someone like the Mountain. She’d have to be fast. And get the first strike in and then dart away. Strategy, like higher ground or using natural elements, would—

Oh, lady knights, help me.

The Mountain Jr.’s got a knife.

I freeze behind the washers, clutching my container of cheap laundry detergent to my chest as well as my phone. The enormous man holds a knife as long as my arm. It’s triangle-shaped and looks like it’s from one of those kitchen sets that people used to sell door-to-door. From here the metal looks dull, but the point is sharp. Surreptitiously, I click Video and then Record on my phone, in case the police need evidence or something when they find my body. The man doesn’t look at me as he rests the knife on top of the small table beside him.

My heart plays a wild burst of fanfare. I try not to panic. Is the Girl Knight going to end up dead in a laundromat? If it comes down to it, will I be able to defend myself with this flimsy blue jug of laundry soap?

Held in suspension by the two thoughts, I stand there. The guy doesn’t look at me as he rummages around in his backpack. I calculate the number of steps to the door.

He makes a satisfied noise as he pulls a block of white cheese from his bag.

A. Block. Of. Cheese.

Who brings a block of cheese to a laundromat?

I burst out laughing.

The dude looks up and smiles sheepishly. He carves a neat little piece of cheese from the side of the block and holds it out. “Want some?”

I shake my head, trying to still my racing heart. “I … um … just ate a bunch of grilled cheese. Thanks.”

He smiles and goes back to carving off blocks of cheese and reading his powerlifting magazine. I go back to my chair and slump into it. Once my fingers have stopped shaking, I open the Layla-Alex-Mags-Lizzy-Jett-Penny text chain I’ve had going since we started training together.

Kit to the Knights for Days Group Text: Y’all. OMG. I’m at the laundromat with the Mountain Jr., and he’s eating cheese with a carving knife. WTF???

I send them the video. Replies come back a few moments later.

Jett: Um …

Layla: OMG. Who does that?

Alex: I’m dying. You okay?