Page 64 of The Life and (Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly

“That’s right,” I say. “It’s www.thegirlknight.com. You can sign my petition to tell the Castle to get rid of gender restrictions for knighthood and other jobs. Right now, it’s company policy that only cis men can be Knights, and that’s absurd. People across the gender spectrum are now astronauts, soldiers, presidents, and more. To say only men can ride a horse at a dinner theater? C’mon.”

Bettina gives me a knowing look. “We’re almost out of time, but I wanted to ask you, Kit, what are you trying to prove with all this?”

I shift in my chair. “Erm … Well, at first, I didn’t think I was going to be able to change or prove anything—I was just helping my brother out. But, as I was fighting, I realized I liked it. I wanted to show kids they can do anything, regardless of gender identity. So, yes, it might be symbolic. But what better way to smash the patriarchy than with a lance and sword?”

Bettina laughs, a lilting, gentle sound that’s refined and warm. “Indeed. One small step for women, one giant step for Wenches.”

That strikes me as so funny, I give a bark of laughter. Then immediately cover my mouth as the awkward noise rings out around the TV studio. To fill that space, I plunge ahead.

“So, yes, Bettina, and all of Chicagoland, if you want to see more of the Girl Knight and my friends, because there are quite a few of us who’ve been training—you can check out some of those training videos on our website—you should definitely reserve seats at the Castle this Friday night. We’re having a tournament at the seven thirty show, and it’s going to be something totally new and totally amazing!”

“You heard it here first,” says Bettina to the camera. “Thanks again to Kit Sweetly for joining us, and stay tuned, folks. After the break, we learn all about how to make French pastries for breakfast. Yum!”

As the lights fade, Bettina turns to me. “That went great! You’re a natural.”

“I wouldn’t say that, but thank you. Hope you can make it to the Castle on Friday.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m headed to New York then, but good luck! Keep on smashing through those walls. You’re going to do great things.”

She shakes my hand and then makeup people swarm around her. Isabel, the assistant from earlier, comes up to my chair. “Time to move it. Next segment starts in three minutes. Do you want to stay for the rest of the show?”

I really, really do want to stay, but I also need to get home. I’m nowhere near ready for the calc test I’ll have to make up, and I need to study, though Mom’s letting me miss the whole day of school because we weren’t sure how long I’d be in the studio.

“I can’t. Can you get me home? I think we can beat rush hour if we hurry.”

“Not likely,” says Isabel. “I have to stay here until the end of the show, but I’ll radio the driver to meet you out front. You were great out there!”

“Thank you!” I call out as she strides away, talking into her walkie-talkie.

I hustle out of my chair as Bettina moves away from me and into a stage that’s set up like a kitchen.

As I’m walking out the door, Isabel hurries back to me. “Hey, Kit. My six-year-old niece just saw the clip before school. Can you leave some tickets for us up front for Friday’s seven thirty show?”

“Absolutely! What name should I put it under?”

Isabel smiles at me, dropping her super-serious work face for just a moment. “Put it under Sofia, Future Girl Knight in Training.”

“I’d like nothing better. Tell Sofia my friends and I will see her Friday.”

Isabel waves as she walks away, and I have to pinch myself as I take the elevator down to street level.

What we’re trying to do feels much more real now that I’ve announced the plan to the greater Chicagoland area. If only I could figure out how to actually pull the tournament off. Or tell my friends that things aren’t going quite as smoothly as they seem.

If this was a small hole to start, by going on the news I’ve just dug myself the foundation of a house. Or maybe something grimmer that will bury me when it all collapses.

I’ve got to make this tournament happen. Despite what Corporate or Len says, we’ve got to fight.

I write out a text message to the group chat.

Kit: Hey, all! News segment went great. I think we’re going to get a lot of people to the Castle from it.

I send that, then type out a quick message after it.

Kit: I’ve got to talk to you all about something else though …

My fingers hover over Send as the driver pulls up.

I delete the second message once I’m in the car.