Page 80 of The Life and (Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly

“I’ll be on a double tonight, so let’s talk tomorrow. Oh, and your brother was talking about going somewhere. Can you take him after school? Just don’t let him do too much. He’s got to rest.”

No need to tell her I’m skipping today. It’ll just stress her out.

“Will do. Want a donut?”

“God, yes.” I hand her a donut and a coffee.

“Have a good day,” I say. “See you tonight.”

She blows me a kiss and takes a huge bite. “You too! Oh, and Kit, thank you for stepping up and taking on so much. I know our family isn’t perfect, but we’re here for each other. That’s really all that matters.”

She walks away before I can say anything, but all the things I’m not telling her sit heavy on my heart as she disappears up the street.

“I BROUGHT DONUTS!” I CALL AS I COME UP THE STAIRS. CHRIS isn’t in the living room, and his blankets and stuff are cleaned up from the couch.

Putting the donuts down on the kitchen table, my eyes fall onto a stack of papers. “Divorce Decree” is stamped across the top page. A note with a lawyer’s office name and address is stuck to the top page as well. “Get this signed by your ex ASAP,” it says in scrawled handwriting.

I flip through the rest of the pages. I knew something was wrong! Dad seemed ready to sign the papers at the hospital, but then he just vanished. Clearly, he’s not as put together as he tried to make it seem. And this feels like all those times he’d disappeared before. Mom must not have found Dad again, and clearly, she’s not made it to the theater where his dragon show is being held. Maybe I can at least fix this part of our lives a little bit.

Grabbing the papers, I wander through the house. Chris is nowhere to be found. Finally, I go out to the shed behind the house.

Chris stands in front of his forge, lining up pieces of metal into rows. He moves slowly, as if every step hurts. On the table by the door sits the enormous chain mail shirt he’s been working on.

“What are you doing?” I push the door of the shop open with a loud thunk.

Chris looks up and his eyes catch the morning light. The bruises from his fall still haven’t quite healed, and his whole face looks grayish purple.

“I’ve got to work,” he says, taking a strained breath. He starts up a blowtorch and lowers his welding glasses. “If I can’t work at the Castle, I’ve got to be able to make some money. This order was due last week.” He gestures toward the shirt.

“No way, dude!” I step around the table and turn off the nozzle for the blowtorch. “You just got out of the hospital. You can’t be working out here. If you need to do something, go study.”

Chris lifts up his welding visor. “I’m done with all my homework. It’s not like it’s that hard. It’s just intro physics, calculus, and my literature classes.”

“Fine, Mr. I’m-So-Smart. But I would recommend you don’t operate blowtorches while on painkillers. If you need something to do, come with me to yell at Dad. Apparently, he’s still not signed these divorce papers.” I wave them in Chris’s direction. “Maybe we can find him and get them signed so Mom doesn’t have to worry about it. And so I can worry about something other than failing at knighthood. At least once they’re divorced, I won’t have to report his income when it comes to financial aid for school.”

That makes Chris put down all his blacksmithing tools and pay attention. “Can I finally confront him for ruining our lives?”

“I’m leaning more toward berating him for being a selfish asshole, but you’ve got the basic theme.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Though I’m going to need like five donuts for fortitude.” Chris follows me out of the blacksmithing shed and to his car.

38

I’M NOT SURE WHY I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE EASY TO FIND MY dad. Chris and I drive around the neighborhood near the arena where the animatronic dinosaur show is playing. The area is newly gentrified and has more condos and coffee shops than parking spaces.

“He’d be in some cheap motel if he’s here at all,” I say as we drive past a row of boutiques next to a tiny bodega.

“I bet he’s staying with the show people.” Chris points to a group of buses and RV trailers in the parking lot of the arena. “He probably talked his way into one of those and is mooching off them.”

I park Chris’s car. “Where should we start?”

Semitrailers decorated with the show logo, RVs, and two buses that look like they belong to rock stars fill this part of the parking lot. It’s still relatively early and no one stirs.

“Just knock on the first one,” says Chris. “Even if he’s not in there, maybe they know where he is.”

Or maybe they’re going to be scary carny folk who sleep with knives under their pillows. Definitely the kind of people who take kindly to early morning wake-up calls from strangers. But the fearless Girl Knight wouldn’t let such a thing stop her.

“I’ve got an idea.” I pull my hair back in a ponytail and go back to the car for the box of donuts. “Follow my lead.”