Page 79 of The Life and (Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly

Chris exhales sharply and then grips his ribs. “I hate being hurt like this. I feel like every minute I’m sitting here, someone else is out there angling for my job.”

“Well.” I raise one eyebrow. “I’m angling for your job.”

Chris laughs at that. I don’t tell him about Eric riding out in his armor last night. As we sit there, watching the ridiculous show, one of the nasty comments someone left about my video keeps coming back to me: Why should anyone care about you becoming a Knight? Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things?

Before I can think of a good answer to that, Chris drops his phone and groans as he reaches for it. I grab it from him and glance at the screen. It’s open to contacts.

There are dozens of girls in the phone.

“Who are all these people?” I ask, moving my finger over Amy, Jenny R., Jenny S., Penny, Sophie, Madeline. “I recognize some of the names from the Castle, but not all of them.”

A blush appears on Chris’s cheeks. “Well, being the Red Knight has its perks.”

“Are you seriously getting numbers at work?”

“You have no idea,” he says, laughing. “You know after the show, when the guests come up to us for pictures? I’ve had drunk women try to get me to sign their bras; they grab my butt when we take pictures—”

“Again, harassment and super not okay.”

“Agreed. Most of the Knights just ignore it, but some of us actually say something about it. Even without all that, at least once a night someone gives me a phone number.”

“And you put them in your phone?”

Chris shakes his head. “Not all of them. But I’m talking to a few of those girls.”

“The secret love life of the Red Knight,” I say with a smile. “Teach me your moves, oh wise one.”

“Oh, I’ve got moves,” he says. “But I will certainly not teach you them. How are things going with Jett?”

“Does everyone know about that?”

“Well. Not everyone. But Penny texted me last night, saying that she saw you two kissing behind the dumpsters—”

“We weren’t behind the dumpsters,” I say. I can hear the petulance in my voice. “And it was just a kiss. No big deal.”

“Uh-huh,” says Chris. He points at the TV. “You should take a lesson from these dogs. The heart wants what the heart wants. You just have to be brave enough to admit it.”

I throw a pillow at him. “I’m not taking love-life advice from Chihuahuas or from you. Do you need anything?”

“Donuts,” says Chris. “I’d do a handstand for some donuts right now.”

“Done.”

I wave to him as I hurry out of the house.

WHEN I GET HOME WITH THE DONUTS AND COFFEE, MOM’S walking to the bus stop at the end of the road.

I roll my window down and wave. “Hey, stranger! Want a ride to work?”

She stops by the window and gives me a tired smile. “Hi, hon. It’s okay. The bus will be here soon. Plus, I’ve got a book.”

Mom once told me that riding the bus is one of her quiet moments during the day. When she can just sit, read a book, and not worry too much about anything other than getting from point A to B. Every time I ride the bus, somebody’s yelling or masturbating or trying to sell me something, but if it works for her, who am I to argue?

“Okay. Have a good day. When you get home, maybe we can talk. I’ve … um … I’ve got lots to tell you.”

Mom smiles. “College news? Work stuff?”

“All of the above.”