Page 66 of The Life and (Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly

Chris reaches for the bag and rests it gingerly on his lap. “You broke the secret code of the Castle on national TV.”

“Oh please.” I roll my eyes. “Nobody is going to care about that little interview. Maybe it will bring a few more people in, but that’s it.”

“You’re going to get fired for real, Kit.”

I very well might. But it was worth it. If going on the news is what it takes to get my friends and me into the arena, I’d do it all over again.

“I doubt that.”

Chris shakes his head. “You didn’t hear Len’s call to Mom.”

At that I drop onto the bed. “Shit. Len called Mom?”

“I could hear it through the phone. He’s pissed. Saying you’ve gone too far and there’s nothing he can do to stop what’s going to happen.”

“He’s bluffing. I’ll talk to him during my next shift on Wednesday.”

Chris nods, looking tired. “We’ll see. I’ll try to come in with you to help talk to him. I’ve got to get my shifts sorted out anyway.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” I say, as I wheel Chris out of the room. We stop at the nurse’s desk so he can sign some papers, and then I push him out to the car. On the way home, he leans against the window, eyes closed, clutching his ribs. He looks so tired, and a little bit broken. And I’m not sure how the Girl Knight can fix that.

THE LAST TIME I SAW CHRIS LOOKING THAT WORN-OUT WAS the morning Dad left the first time. We were twelve and fourteen. By then, Chris and I were used to the fights, but this one felt different. It had more texture than the usual ones over stupid things like how to load the dishwasher or Mom not paying enough attention to Dad. This fight had sharp edges. It was barbed like a harpoon, and as they went through the house yelling at each other and throwing things, I could almost feel their relationship shredding with each new insult.

“Get in the car!” Dad shouted at Chris and me once Mom had stormed out of the house, headed to yet another shift at her crappy job.

“Where are we going?” I grabbed the bag I always kept packed because I once saw this show about a mom and dad getting divorced, and the mom took the kids without any warning and they had none of their stuff. My bag was stuffed with snacks, clothes, books, and a few photos.

“Just get in the car,” said Dad, yanking my arm and pulling me roughly toward the door. He wasn’t normally a hitting dad. But I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“We’re not going anywhere with you,” said Chris, grabbing Dad’s hand. He pried it loose from my arm, and I shook off Dad’s grip. Chris was in the trenches of the teenage years, and his thin face had a smattering of acne spread across it like freckles. But he’d grown a lot in the last few months, and he stood as tall as Dad.

“GET. IN. THE. CAR.” Dad’s eyes were bloodshot.

“Make us,” said Chris. “You’re drunk and will probably kill us all.”

“Plus, we don’t want to go with you anywhere,” I added. Chris and I had talked about this at length, and both of us agreed that staying with Mom was the better choice.

“I’ll be goddamned if my children are going to tell me what I can and can’t do,” said Dad. He opened the door. “If I leave, I’m not coming back.”

“Fine with us,” said Chris.

“You’re a shitty kid, you know that?” said Dad, stumbling up to Chris. “After all I did for you? This is how you treat me?”

It was a tired refrain. Something Dad said to Chris every time he got blazing drunk.

Chris shoved Dad away. When Dad found his footing, he stumbled back at Chris. Without thinking, I put myself between them.

Meaning I took the full brunt of the fist Dad swung in Chris’s direction.

It knocked me down, my cheek stinging powerfully. Tears rose into my eyes.

Dad looked stunned. “Kit-Kat,” he said, his voice just a whisper. He knelt down beside me and reached out a hand for my face. I shoved it away.

“I’m so sorry, Kit. That wasn’t meant for you. You got in the way.”

“You shouldn’t be trying to punch Chris, either,” I growled through my tears. Sobs broke my voice into clumsy chunks.

Chris grabbed the back of Dad’s shirt and pulled him away from me. “Get out of here. Now.”