Children of the Knight (34 page)

Reyna’s mouth became an O, and she protested, “No, you’re not like
them
.”

Lance almost laughed. “Reyna, I practically grew up in that place. It was like going home.”

Her face fell, and she genuinely felt bad for him. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

Lance gazed at her, his eyes searching her very soul. “I thought you said you didn’t wanna be like your parents, you didn’t wanna be a hater?”

“I don’t,” she protested, and fell silent. God, he was right—she
was
becoming her parents. Just then her cell beeped, and she used the distraction to break eye contact with him. She didn’t want him to see how right he was.

She glanced at the text. It was from Salma
again
, asking her to please call, that she was so worried. God, that woman was annoying.

Lance noted her expression as she read the text. “Problem?”

Reyna shook her head in consternation. “It’s just Salma wanting to know where I am. She never leaves me alone.”

“Who’s Salma?” Lance asked. “That actress chick?” He smiled to let her know he was joking.

“No, fool, Salma is my housekeeper,” Reyna responded with annoyance, flicking a few loose strands of hair off her face. “God, she thinks she’s my mother or something.”

“How long she worked there?”

She shrugged. “My whole life, I guess, since I was a baby.”

Lance eyed her in wonder. Such lavish lifestyles were beyond his ability to comprehend. “She got kids of her own?” he asked, curious.

Reyna considered a moment. “No, she’s live-in. She don’t got any kids except—” Then she stopped, and her soft brown eyes opened wide, “’cept me.”

Lance smiled and shrugged. “Then maybe she
is
mom. Sounds like she’s just worried ’bout you, that’s all. Wish I had somebody like that growing up.” And he meant it too. He’d have done almost anything to have had a mother who loved him and cared what happened to him, instead of one who’d sold him for drugs. He shoved that memory down his throat and focused on the gaping older girl before him.

Reyna gazed at the boy in astonishment, and then she grinned, lighting up her beautiful face. “You know what I hate even more than a boy younger and prettier who can shoot better than me?”

Lance laughed. “No, what?”

“A boy who’s younger, prettier, and
smarter
than me.”

Lance reddened with embarrassment, but she just smiled warmly, genuinely feeling grateful to this boy and his uncanny wisdom. She leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

He felt a distinct tingle of pleasure suffuse his entire body, and knew he’d turned even redder in the face, and then she pulled back.

“Wow” was all he could utter, not sure what he was feeling, but blushing all the same.

She tossed her head back with that causal laugh of hers. “Thank you, Lance,” she said with real sincerity. “You’re too young and pretty for me, but one a these days some girl’s gonna snatch you up.”

Lance dropped his gaze. “I hope so. I’m just not, you know, ready yet.” He looked shyly back up to find her still smiling. She understood. Then her smile faded, and her gaze locked on something behind him. Lance turned to find Esteban, back in his regular street clothes, watching them, his expression unreadable.

“Like I said,” Reyna went on, and Lance turned his face back to her. “You’re smarter ’an me.” She squeezed both arms gently, then released him and stepped to Esteban.

He merely gazed at her in silence, his eyes smoldering, wondering how in the hell he could’ve been attracted to someone like her, a coldhearted bitch like her! But something in her demeanor at this moment disarmed his anger. There was something in her eyes he’d never seen there, something almost… real.

“Este,” she began haltingly. “I’m, like, I’m sorry I didn’t go with you last night. Like Lance said, I’m becoming my parents, and I sure as hell don’t wanna be them!”

Esteban glanced over at Lance, who pretended to be unclasping his leather jerkin, and then back into Reyna’s deep brown eyes and long, wavy lashes. God, she was hot! But he didn’t say that. “Whatever” was all that came out. “I gotta get home, check on my moms and lil’ sis.”

He turned and started down the tunnel.

“Este?” she called after him. He turned, annoyance creasing his young, hard face. “Maybe someday I could meet ’em? Your mom and sister?”

Esteban shrugged again but tossed her a slight smile. “Sure. Someday.” Then he turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Reyna turned to Lance, who was grinning at her. She pantomimed punching him, and he just laughed.

After Lance went off to find Arthur, Reyna pulled out her cell phone and thumbed in the following message:
Sorry to worry u, Salma. Fell asleep friends house. On way hme. Thnx for caring.

Feeling as though she’d crossed a major threshold, but not quite sure what it was, she slipped the phone back into her pocket and set off for home.

As Lance wandered about The Hub, he observed various boys practicing with weapons or lifting weights Jack had found tossed in a dumpster. That reminded him about Jack offering to teach him muscle-building techniques, and he vowed to remind the bigger boy of his promise. Maybe that would make things better between them. Just thinking about Jack brought Reyna’s kiss back into his mind. He trembled, and a chill ran up his back.

Afraid to even wonder why he’d put those two images together, he shook off the confusion and stopped to observe a few boys practicing the art of courtliness by pretending one was a lady and having the other bow to her. They laughed and playfully punched each other every time.

Arthur sat on his throne wearily watching Enrique put the finishing touches on a large banner. It depicted the A symbol with a dragon brandishing Excalibur in the background.

Lance stepped to Arthur’s side, and the king smiled warmly at him. “I thank ye, my Lance, for thy prayers last night.”

Lance nodded, pushing Jack and Reyna from his mind. “Arthur, do you think that was a miracle when that girl didn’t die?”

“Perhaps,” replied the king thoughtfully. “But perhaps the true miracle was the joining together of sworn enemies to preserve the life of one lowly child.”

Lance considered those words and then grinned broadly.

T
HE
next day, Jenny trudged across campus, exhausted and carrying more books from the library to her room.
Maybe this summer, I’ll buy my own cart
, she mused as she walked. Her mind was on the story she’d seen on the news yesterday, about Arthur’s “miracle” with the little girl. The man confounded her, and she considered herself a good judge of people. But this guy was an enigma. She had to find out more about him. Lance was the key, but he hadn’t been to school in forever. With summer break mere days away, she doubted she’d see him again.

Wending her away in and around the caution tape, dodging milling students, she nearly collided with Karla, a slim, attractive African-American and fellow English teacher, one of the few instructors around here she really liked.

Jenny looked up, startled, and almost dropped her books. “Oh, sorry, Karla, I didn’t see you.”

Karla just laughed. “No wonder, with that pile of books blocking your eyes. Let me help.”

She grabbed the top four books, leaving Jenny with the bottom four. Her arms immediately felt better. “Thanks, Karla.”

As she walked beside Jenny toward Building Eight, Karla asked, “Hey, Jen, you ever see Lance again?” She wouldn’t know—she only taught seniors.

Jenny shook her head. “No. And there hasn’t been anything new on King Arthur since that gang shooting, either.”

They stopped at Jenny’s door, and she fumbled with her keys while balancing the books.

“What’s that got to do with Lance?” Karla asked.

“A lot, I think,” Jenny replied, turning the knob and pulling open the door. As usual, it screamed on its hinges like a banshee. “He’s been hanging out with that guy, and I think our missing students, the gang kids, are with him too.”

Karla deposited the books onto a student desk and turned to face Jenny, one hand to her hip in consternation. “Honey, I don’t care if they’re hangin’ with the Pied Piper, long as I don’t have ’em in my classes.”

Jenny set down her own load and frowned at Karla. “But they should be in school.”

“What for?”

Jenny was shocked. “Karla, you’re a teacher!”

Karla shook her head. “Honey, I’m a realist. Those kids aren’t learnin’ anything here. Maybe this guy’ll teach ’em somethin’ we can’t, somethin’ useful.”

Jenny wanted to argue, but found she had nothing to say. Maybe Karla was right. She needed to find out. She needed to find Lance.