Page 69 of The Life and (Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly

“Kit! Don’t you have to be at work?” Chris calls to me from the living room. It’s almost four and I’m already running late because I had to stay after school for more catchup from Monday, since every teacher I have decided to give an exam on the Monday after spring break, and I somehow managed to forget about those tests.

“I’m on my way,” I yell back, as I head into my bedroom. I shimmy out of my school clothes and into my Wench’s uniform. Gross. I missed it when I went to the laundromat, so it’s still crusted with food from my last shift.

“It’ll do,” I mutter, as I pin up my hair and then douse myself in fruit-smelling body spray. I’m sure the smell of roasted meat and horses will cover up my stink anyway.

“I’ll see you later,” I call as I grab my bag and keys. “Mom will be home by nine and there’s food in the fridge.”

Chris wanted to go into work with me today, but he’s much more couch-bound than he thought he would be.

I stop midway down the steps and pound back up to the kitchen. Grabbing an apple, some peanut butter, and a handful of cheese sticks, I dump them on the couch next to Chris.

“Nice touch,” he says, quirking a half smile. “You’re really a domestic goddess, you know that, right?”

“Just eat it.”

Chris struggles to his feet. “I gotta pee anyway, so I can get something to eat.”

There’s nothing more I can do to help Chris, and he’s got to move on his own sooner or later. “Just don’t fall off anything, okay?”

“Aye, aye,” he says. “Maybe you can convince Len to let you ride tonight in my place.”

“Ha, fat chance! I’m just hoping he doesn’t kill me. Or fire me.”

The thought of talking to Len has been giving me nightmares, but I don’t tell Chris that.

Chris shoots me a knowing look and then laughs. Or tries to laugh. A noise escapes his throat and then he clutches his ribs.

“Give ’em hell, Girl Knight.” He raises an arm and cheers weakly. “Restore honor to our family’s name!”

I GET TO WORK FIVE MINUTES BEFORE MY SHIFT STARTS. IT’S all I can do to run down the service hallway toward the Wench section board. As I move past clumps of Pages, Squires, and other servers, I hear the odd shout-out or grumble about me being on the news. But I don’t have time to listen to them. I’ve got to get to my section, get the bread baskets filled, get—

“Why isn’t my name on here?” I hit the wall with the flat of my palm, which hurts more than it should.

Two line cooks shoot me smug looks as they pass.

“Looks like the Girl Knight is having a bad day,” snickers one of them. He has Foie Gras tattooed across his knuckles like an aspirational slogan.

“Shut up,” I mutter.

The other one, a pimply thing who’s buddies with Eric Taylor, scoffs. “Things are never going to change around here. Don’t know why you’re even trying.”

“You’re the worst. Go away.” I make a face at them both.

They laugh as they walk away, and I swear under my breath.

Running my finger down the line of servers and sections again, I scan each one, looking for my name.

Mags, Beth, Penny: Red Knight Section.

Madison, Nina: Blue Knight section.

Lizzy, Megan: Purple Knight section… .

But no Kit.

Not anywhere on the board.

I check the schedule posted next to the board. There’s my name, slotted for tonight’s shift. But I don’t have any tables?