Page 60 of The Life and (Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly

Shit. I’d forgotten that I’ve not yet told them about going on Good Morning, Chicago! Layla’s eyebrows are practically in her hair, and I feel especially bad about not telling her. Quickly, I explain what’s happening and how I met Bettina.

“That’s going to be epic,” says Alex. “I wish I could stay home and watch. But I can’t because I’ve got a photography club meeting and a math test in the morning.”

“You have a test the day after spring break?” I rack my brain trying to figure out what math class they might be talking about, since we have a ton of the same classes.

“We have a test,” says Jett. “Remember that math homework I keep nagging you about?”

I groan. A memory of our calc teacher saying something about a test rises in my mind. “I’m gonna miss it. I have to do this news segment.”

“She’ll let you make it up,” says Layla. “Don’t even worry about it. We’ll tell her what you’re doing.”

“You all are the best, you know that, right?” I smile gratefully at my circle of friends.

“We are,” says Alex. They pick up an unbent pool noodle from the pile. “Now, enough talking. We’ve still got the place to ourselves. Let’s joust. Mags, will you push me?”

Alex rolls one of the laundry carts to the far end of the laundromat and climbs in. Layla gets into the other. I push her to the opposite end of the bank of washers. Both Layla and Alex kneel in the carts, pool noodles out.

“READY, SET, JOUST!” Jett yells. His camera’s on and he balances on a chair as he films.

I push Layla’s cart hard, running behind it and trying to steer so she’s close enough to hit Alex over the washers but not so close we crash into them. She holds one of the cart’s poles to steady herself and balances the pool noodle with the other.

They’re closer, closer, closer. And crash!

Well, okay. Not crash. Because pool noodles sound more like Rice Krispies crackling than lances shattering when they hit each other.

But still, we make contact.

“AGAIN!” Alex shouts, grinning. Their cart is at the far end of the room now.

“One more time, then it’s my turn,” Mags says, as she turns the cart around. “You’re heavier than you look.”

Alex turns around and bops Mags with their pool noodle. “Agreed, my fair Knight.”

Mags grabs a nearby noodle and whacks Alex with it. While they have a spontaneous sword–pool noodle fight, Layla trades places with me in the cart.

“It’s super fun, Kit; you’ve got to try it.”

I take the yellow pool noodle from her and climb in. The metal of the basket digs into my knees, so I end up squatting. Alex and Mags get back to their starting position.

“READY, SET, JOUST!” Jett shouts.

Layla thrusts the cart along the side of the washers. I can feel every wiggle of the squeaky wheel on the front left side of the cart. Alex looms closer, their pool noodle brandished. I lean forward ever so slightly, ready to knock the noodle out of their hands.

Almost to them. Almost. Almost …

“Ahhhhh!” I yell, right as we make contact. I manage to knock the noodle out of Alex’s hand, but somehow, I’m pitched too far forward. Startled by my scream, Layla loses her grip on the cart and it slams into the washers. I fly out and land on my belly across two of them.

“Kit!” Jett yells, putting his camera down as he runs toward me. “Are you okay?”

I roll over trying to catch my breath. “I’m okay,” I say through the laughter bubbling up inside me. Tears stream down my face. “That was so fun. Let’s do it again.”

Layla punches me lightly on the arm. “Don’t scare me like that. After Chris’s injury, I’m not sure I can handle seeing another Sweetly flying through the air.”

I wipe my eyes, suddenly a little less amused. “Fair point. But I’m fine. You want another turn?”

With a grin, Layla climbs back into the basket and Mags takes Alex’s place.

We joust for another ten rounds before a tired-looking mother comes in with her two toddlers, shooting us dirty looks.