Children of the Knight (57 page)

“We’re not doing that anymore,” Jack announced, eying Lance’s back with concern. “Too dangerous.” Then he grinned slightly, hoping to lighten the mood. “You might kill someone.”

Lance turned his head to give him a half smile, keeping his body pressed away from the older boy, pushing those other thoughts into the far corners of his mind. He just
might
kill someone, he suddenly realized, and that truth terrified him too. A lot.

Oh God, what if I turn out to be somebody I can’t live with?

“We’ll just keep looking till we find Mark,” Jack announced with a wistful sigh, glancing up and down the street once more. “He’s out here somewhere.”

Lance nodded, relieved that Jack’s eyes had not dropped too low and that his friend had apparently
not
noticed anything when they hugged.

But
he
noticed, and his physical reaction petrified him, because he knew what it might mean, what it probably
already
meant. Mark’s words came back to him then, in that gentle, soothing, comforting voice:
Just let it be, and it’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to.
But what if I can’t live with that?
What if I can’t live with the way it’s supposed to be?

Jack eyed his friend with apprehension, noting the way Lance kept his face half turned from him as though trying to hide the desolate, almost despairing look. The boy’s lips quivered, his eyes fixed on nothingness.

The confrontation with Mr. D. had shaken Lance in some way Jack didn’t quite understand, but as he gazed sidelong at that perfect face and that soft, silky hair and those shimmering green jewels that were his eyes, and feeling once more Lance’s flesh pressed against his, he shivered with desire and realized deep in his being that if he didn’t already love Mark, he could easily fall for Lance.

Very
easily.

Maybe, despite all his efforts not to, maybe he was already falling….

You two would be good for each other….
Is that what Mark wanted?

Lance flinched slightly when Jack hesitantly placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and flicked his eyes onto the older boy’s face apologetically.

“Sorry,” he gasped. “A little jumpy after that, I guess.” He dropped his gaze so Jack wouldn’t see the lie in his eyes, wouldn’t see the dark, disturbing thoughts and fears lurking behind them.

Jack nodded his understanding, his own confused thoughts about Lance troubling him deeply, and gently led the boy to a strategic, but shadowed spot that offered a clear view of hustlers strip. They sat up against a building, shoulder to shoulder and watched and waited. But Mark never appeared.

Lance tried to focus on Mark, but Jack’s shoulder against his was too distracting, too tempting, and his misery deepened.

Unbeknownst to Lance, that closeness was having the same disconcerting effect on Jack, too, which filled the older boy’s mind with guilt and shame.

Late into the night, Lance received a text on his phone. When he slowly pulled it out, he saw it was from Arthur. His depression intensified. Jack glanced over and saw Lance’s hesitation.

“Aren’t you going to check it? Maybe he’s heard something.”

Lance opened the text, which read:
Any word yet on Sir Mark?

Jack deflated when he saw that. “Damn.”

Lance hesitated again, did not thumb in a reply.

“Aren’t you gonna answer him?”

Lance frowned, and gloom overwhelmed him.

Anyone can carry the banner
.

“Yeah.” He thumbed in
No
and then added,
not yet
. Then he slipped the phone back into his pocket without another word.

Something about Lance’s face, the fact that he hadn’t asked what was going on with the crusade, bothered Jack. Something was wrong. “You okay?”

Lance nodded sadly.

“Aren’t you curious about how things are going back there?”

He just shook his head. “Naw. They got it covered. Don’t need me.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but Lance turned away and looked in the other direction. Concerned, Jack returned his eyes to the street.
What was that all about
?

After several fruitless hours with no sign of Mark, both boys finally drifted off to sleep beside one another, and mercifully neither dreamed unpleasant dreams.

O
NCE
Arthur got wind of the mayor’s challenge, he called together a meeting of his most prominent knights. And he invited Jenny. She’d been surprised but pleased to receive his phone call. She had been correct—one of the cellular carriers set him up with a phone and a massive family plan to include many of his knights whom he’d placed in leadership positions. Arthur seemed nervous actually speaking on the phone when he invited her to the meeting. It had to do with the mayor’s challenge, he’d said. Had she seen it on TV? She assured him she had and would attend that meeting the following day.

When she’d hung up, she’d gone to her closet and begun rooting through her clothes. She actually did something she hadn’t done in ages—fretted over what to wear.

She finally settled on dress slacks and a long-sleeved blouse that had a tunic-like feel to it. She decided she wanted to be one of Arthur’s group and not separate from it.

When she arrived the next morning, Arthur was seated on his throne nervously drumming his fingers on the armrest. Seated around him were Esteban, Reyna, Enrique, Luis, Lavern, Darnell, Tai, Duc, Jaime, and Justin. Chris sat beside Arthur’s throne, absently tossing a football up and down, looking lost and forlorn.

Arthur looked up and leapt to his feet when Jenny entered. “Good day, Lady Jenny,” he offered with an almost nervous bow.

The boys rose and bowed and said, “Welcome, Lady Jenny.” Reyna tilted her head in greeting.

So taken aback was she by the welcome that at first she failed to notice the absence of Lance. But as she collected herself and tilted her head to acknowledge the greeting her face clouded. “Where’s Lance?”

Chris piped up, “On a quest, milady.”

A chill crept up her back. “What kind of quest?”

Arthur waved her over to sit beside him, in the large wooden chair normally reserved for Lance alone. “Alas, milady, one of our knights, Sir Mark, has gone missing.”

“You mean he ran away,” Chris mumbled with a sullen toss of the football.

Jenny instantly became concerned. “What happened?”

Arthur fell silent, and Jenny felt certain she detected guilt, maybe even embarrassment, in his eyes. “It doth be complicated, milady,” Arthur falteringly explained. “A misunderstanding. Sirs Lance and Jack have gone in search of him.”

“Has there been any word, Arthur?” asked Reyna. She missed Lance. His presence was grounding for her, and for the other kids, as well. Things just didn’t feel the same without him.

Arthur shook his head. “No.”

“When’s Lance coming back, Arthur?” Chris asked sadly. “And Jack.”

Arthur patted the small boy on the head. “Soon, Sir Christopher.” Then he turned to the group. “Shalt we begin?”

Jenny eyed the seat, pictured Lance sitting in it, and shook her head. “That’s Lance’s seat. I’ll sit on the floor.” And she did, right beside Reyna.

Arthur eyed her, then the empty seat, and frowned. Had he actually offered her Lance’s chair? How could he have made such an unforgiveable breach of etiquette?

“So,” Jenny began, “you were right, what you said about the mayor. That city hall mural is just a publicity stunt.”

The kids nodded. They weren’t fooled.

Arthur nodded soberly. “His ilk hath not changed in thirteen centuries.”

Jenny shook her head with disgust.

“And to what do you attribute the mayor’s challenge to me regarding school?” Arthur asked, opening up the question to the entire assemblage.

“It’s a trap, Arthur,” Esteban spoke up at once. “He’s trying to get ya to admit you be breaking the law.”

“Sir Este, be right, Arthur,” Justin spoke up, feeling important because he knew something about the law. “The mayor, he wants an excuse to bust yer—I mean, to arrest you and do it all nice and legal like. My dad’d probably be the guy hauling you off to jail.”

The kids laughed and then fell silent again. Reyna raised her hand. “Unfortunately, Arthur, that’s the way things work here. We kids have to be in school Monday thru Friday whether we learn anything or not.”

“Mostly not,” chimed in Darnell, which earned him a high five from Jaime.

“What about homeschooling?” Duc suggested. “One a the kids I used to kick it with never went to school. His mom, like, taught him stuff at home. He just had to pass tests or something.”

The others nodded. Homeschooling was not unknown to them.

Arthur turned to Jenny. “Ye doth be silent, Jenny. Since education hath been thy livelihood, what beeth your opinion?”

Jenny bit her bottom lip. Their talk of homeschooling had given her an idea. A plan. A crazy, audacious, probably impossible-to-execute plan.

“I have an idea,” she announced, grinning at Arthur, whose eyebrows rose questioningly.