Children of the Knight (61 page)

Arthur’s face reeked of guilt and shame, but determination grabbed his heart and pounded through him. “Nor can I.”

He stood then and addressed the onlooking boys, all of whom stood frozen with shock. “As ye have heard, my noble knights, one of our own hath fallen, and we shalt pay him the honor that is his due when we can. For now, we must needs find Sir Lance! That be of the utmost import. Take thy phones and spread out about the city. Find him, and when you do assure him of our love and protection.” He’d almost said “my love,” but foolishly chose not to.

There were mumbled, “yes, sires,” and accompanying bows and then the boys scattered to gather their knives and phones. Within seconds, only Chris remained, still in tears and gazing silently at Jack.

Chris observed this older boy whom he idolized, Jack’s head bent in sorrow, tears falling to the floor like raindrops, and then ran to him and threw his small arms around the bigger boy in a tight hug of comfort. Jack gratefully hugged him back and just sat down to hold the boy tenderly, thankful for this precious gift, a little brother who loved him unconditionally.

Arthur immediately pulled out his phone and typed in Jenny’s number. The kids had attempted to train him on features such as speed dial, but he could never get the hang of it. Her phone rang once, twice, and on the third ring she picked up. A frantic Arthur quickly informed her about Mark, and heard her soft crying over the line.

Oh, how he hated and loved this invention all at once. He wished to be with her face to face, holding her in their mutual grief, but alas, time was of the essence. Briefly he told her about hurting Lance’s feelings and how the boy blamed himself for Mark’s death. He needed her to go to the skate park, and he would meet her. If Lance ended up anywhere tonight, it would be there. She agreed at once and hung up.

Arthur turned back to Jack and Chris. “I go to seek Sir Lance. Sir Christopher, please take care of Sir Jack for me.” The small boy nodded, understanding now that his and Jack’s roles had reversed. Now the bigger boy needed him more than the other way around.

Jack looked over Chris’s shoulder, a look of desperation in his eyes. “Find him, Arthur, and tell him how much I… need him.”

Arthur nodded and hurried to saddle Llamrei.

E
UCALYPTUS
P
ARK
looked calm and peaceful in the moonlight, just the way Lance had always loved it. But tonight was different. The outside exuded peace, but inside of him turmoil raged. Even that new mural of him and Arthur mocked him. Already sweaty and tired from his hard ride to the park, he slipped into the skate park and attacked those ramps with a vengeance. He spun and rolled and flipped, daring himself to stunts more crazy and dangerous than he’d ever attempted. What did it matter? His friend was dead. It was his fault. Did it matter if he killed his own stupid ass? Hell no!

Despite his best efforts to squelch the memories, Mark’s soft, gentle features kept intruding, flitting before his mind’s eye like a lawyer waving evidence of guilt before a defendant: Mark’s gentle laughter; Mark giving him the thumbs up sign; Mark’s huge blue eyes brimming with tears; Mark’s comforting arm around his shoulders; Mark giving him the fist bump; Mark silent and sad and brooding; Mark flashing that shy little smile; Mark’s angry eyes and pouty mouth when Lance had called him a fag; Mark offering him friendship and acceptance; Mark keeping his secret when he didn’t have to; Mark lying open-eyed in death, pain and unworthiness permanently etched onto his milky white face….

Try as he might to hurt himself, Lance landed every jump clean, retrieved his board perfectly after every flip, after every crazy-ass trick, and within an hour of nonstop skating had pounded the mountain of anger and guilt into a smaller, more manageable size.

Drained and dripping with sweat, the knot of Mark’s death sitting in his stomach like an ulcer, Lance swatted his soaked and scattered Samson-like hair off his face as he despondently lurched across the park and stopped in front of the mural.

Lance sighed heavily as he gazed at himself painted onto the wall before him. He spotted a Sharpie on the ground beside a trash can, scooped it up, and looked long and hard at the mural.

At himself.

And hated what he saw.

The pen was almost dry, but it still worked.

He tossed it into the can when he finished and wandered over to plop down heavily onto one of the swings.

His
swing.

And that was where Jenny found him.

Lance didn’t even glance up at her as she gingerly sat in the swing beside him, acknowledging her presence with only a slight shift in body posture. His eyes remained fixed on the retaining wall mural of him and Arthur. Now scrawled above it were the words “Youth Sucks.”

Jenny followed his gaze and frowned at the graffiti. “I heard about Mark,” she began, uncertainly. “I’m sorry.”

He said nothing. Just stared at those words.

“Everyone’s out looking for you, Lance. We were all worried.”

Lance just stared. “That’s me, you know. Holding the banner.”

Jenny nodded. “I know. It’s a good likeness. Did you add the words above it?”

Lance shrugged, but said nothing.

“Arthur’s frantic with worry over you,” she offered.

That got his eyes off the words and onto her face. “He is?”

Jenny nodded. “You know he is. He told me about how he hurt your feelings. Oh, honey, he didn’t mean it. He was just distracted, like we all get sometimes.”

Lance’s gaze returned to the mural and fixed on the image of Arthur. “I know. Jack told me. But….” He wasn’t sure he could admit it.

“But what?” she prompted.

He turned to her again, tears brimming. “Oh, milady, it would’ve been better if I just
was
the banner carrier, you know?”

“I don’t understand.”

“He counted on me, milady. He gave me a quest, the most important one yet, and I failed him!”

“You mean Mark?”

Lance nodded, tears dribbling down his face and pooling onto the board across his lap. “How can I face him, Lady Jenny? I lost one of his that I was s’posed to save. And I lost the first friend I ever had. And I…. I never even told Mark I loved him, you know? I mean, he kept my secret, and I loved him for that, for not telling anyone, but I never said it. I never told him. And now he’s gone! He’s
gone
….”

She reached out and pulled him in and just stroked his damp hair and let him cry. She didn’t know what secret he was talking about, but she understood the guilt and remorse he was feeling.

“Oh, honey, you didn’t fail Arthur, or Mark. Mark made a choice. It was a bad choice, but he made it. He could have stayed with you, but his pain was too great. You didn’t fail him. You loved him. And he knew you loved him, just by the way you were there for him when he needed you.”

“But that’s just it, milady, I wasn’t there,” Lance confessed. “I was too busy thinking how much
I
was hurting to see how much Mark was too, and I should’ve told him….” His tear-streaked face looked up at her imploringly. “He thought he was
worthless
, Lady Jenny, not
worth
being loved, but he
was
worth it.
I’m
the one who’s not.
I
should be dead, not him!”

Jenny cupped his face in both hands, her blue eyes harsh with reprimand. “Don’t ever say that, Lance. Ever! You
are
worthy of love, and you did everything you could for Mark. It’s just that sometimes,
everything
isn’t enough.”

His eyes magnified with surprise because that thought had never occurred to him. Wasn’t there always something more that could be done? He knew she was trying to help, but
he
knew he hadn’t done everything he could’ve. After all, he’d never told Mark the truth, that he was loved.

She released his face and enfolded him in a soft, comforting hug and just let the boy cry softly. “But how can I face Arthur now?” Lance finally asked quietly, guilt almost smothering his words. “How can he be proud of me after all this?”

Now Jenny pulled away from him so she could make eye contact. “Oh, Lance, Arthur is so proud of you I can’t even tell you.” His blurry eyes widened at that. “And he loves you so much, more than most fathers love their sons. Don’t you know that?”

Lance let go and clutched his skateboard with white-knuckled tightness, fighting for composure. “That’s what Jack said, but milady, Arthur never said nothing like that, that he loves me.”

Jenny just sighed with disgust. “Men. Never comfortable with their feelings. Trust me, Lance, it’s true. He loves you more than anything.”

Lance jerked his head up, startled by her words, but clearly seeing the truth of them on her softly pretty face.

Jenny smiled sadly. “Have you told him how you feel about him?”

Lance shook his head. “That’s just it, milady. I don’t even know how. I never even said those words to nobody before cuz there wasn’t ever nobody to say ’em to. ’Cept Mark.” He paused, his voice catching in his throat like a hiccup. “And now, well I be Arthur’s First Knight and all, milady, and he’s counting on me. I gotta be strong and be in charge, and I gotta get everything right.”

“Nobody gets everything right, sweetie,” she assured him, continuing to gently stroke his damp, silky hair. “I know you’re his First Knight, but first and foremost you’re a young boy who needs attention and love. We all need that, Lance. And we’re
all
worthy. Especially you.”

Lance scanned her earnest expression, saw the honesty in those soft gentle eyes, saw how much she cared, and hugged her tightly. She warmly embraced him. She held him for a few minutes, the two comforting each other.

Then Lance pulled away and gazed longingly at the image of Arthur.

“He’s on his way, Lance. For you.”

Lance stood at that, clutching his board as though afraid to let it go, and then began backing away from her, his heart pulling into his throat.

The
clip
clop
,
clip clop
of trotting horse hooves came to his ears.

“I can’t face him right now, milady,” he spluttered, still backing away. “I’m too embarrassed. Tell him I… tell him I’ll see him later, at The Hub. I gotta think some more.”

And then he was gone before she could reply, bolting across the lawn to the sidewalk, up onto his board, and clattering down the dark, silent street.

Arthur trotted up to Jenny and quickly leapt to the ground, gazing anxiously after the retreating boy. “Was that Lance I didst see just now?” The desperation in his voice almost stuck in his throat. “Is he all right?”

Jenny sighed. “Yes, and no.”

Arthur hurriedly set Excalibur down and sat in the swing beside her. The seat was still warm with Lance’s body heat. “Where hath he been?” His voice ached. “Why hath he not returned home, to me?”

“He loves you terribly, you know,” Jenny began, sorting through her own conflicted feelings for this man.

Arthur considered this a moment, hoping as much as he’d ever hoped for anything that her words be true. “Dost thou truly believe so?”

Jenny nodded, looking him in the eye. “Oh yes. It’s in his eyes, in his gestures, in the way he tries to imitate you. You’re the father he never had, but always longed for. And that’s the problem, Arthur. He thinks he failed you.”