The Knights of Sheba Episode 3: "Never Forgotten" A

 Episode Three: Never Forgotten

 

            Nina is asleep when she gets the call from Erak.  He says only one thing before hanging up.  “Meet me at the bridge outside of town closest to the facility.”

            So, she stands, dresses, and leaves her home and the city.  She drives to an outlying bridge that overlooks the river and finds Erak waiting on the far side.  His Black SUV is parked on a rest stop that overlooks the bank.  He is standing beside it in a black suit of elven make.  The tip of his cigarette glows in the night.

            It is midnight by the time Nina pulls in beside him.  The moon is waning and the night dark.  The river is a large, flat, inky expanse.  Clouds drift by, sucking what little light there is from the area.  When she comes to a stop, Erak doesn’t acknowledge her.  He draws on his cigarette and stares ahead.

            Nina gets out and joins him.  They stand a few feet apart.  The air is hot and sticky.  It’s thick in her throat when she breaths.  “Sir,” she says, “You had asked to speak with me?”

            “I did,” he says.  Nina can see the features of his face in the glow of his cigarette.  She can also see the smoke gathering around him.

            She rests her hands on the guard rail and watches him.  “May I ask what about, sir?”

            He removes his cigarette and releases a long, smoky breath. “We found another body yesterday.  Another demon.”

            “Another demon, sir?”

            “Yeah.  Someone else took care of it, someone who knew where to look for it.  Someone tracking it, maybe.”  He glances at her.  “Know anything about that?”

            “No, sir.”

            His lips tighten.  He nods. “You went home immediately after.  Left us to clean your mess.”

            “I thought that is what you would want, sir.  It is my role to watch the humans, to keep them from the gate.”

            “It is.  And it’s my job to hunt whatever comes through.”

            “Exactly, sir.  I wouldn’t wish to interfere and only involve myself if asked.”

            Erak laughs under his breath.  He takes a last draw from his cigarette and then snuffs it out in the white pebbles of the rest area.  After holding the smoke in his mouth for a few seconds longer, he releases it above his head.  “And I would never ask.”

            “Sir, are you asking me out here to ascertain my involvement with this other demon?”

            “No, lieutenant. I know you had nothing to do with it, but I do have questions regarding your job performance.  After all, you’re to…How did you put it?  Keep the humans away from the gate.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Yes, sir.”  He smooths back his hair.  “See, I’ve heard some interesting rumors and didn’t know how to proceed.  Rumors about you.”

            “Sir?”

            “You left with the human girl, and I sent a soldier to check on you, and her, to make sure you were doing your job.  Keeping her out of the know.  He heard some very interesting things.  Things that would go directly against your orders, your mission.”  Erak turns to her, looks her straight in the eyes.  “Would you happen to know what he heard?”

            “I haven’t a clue, actually.”

            “Then let me give you one.  He heard you two discussing the signet rings and the Knights, and a whole host of other things.  Now, why would he hear that?”

            “Because she was curious.  Considering her circumstances, I would be, too.”

            “Your job is to keep her, to keep them, ignorant!  But, how and why would she ask about the Knights, Lieutenant.?”

            “Maybe your man misinterpreted…”

            “What did you do?  Did you give her a signet?”

            “Sir, I don’t…”

            Erak steps forward and grips the rail tightly, and he shouts. “Did you give her a signet?”

            Nina looks away, stares at the black water as is drifts by.  “I did,” she says after a lengthy silence.

            Erak shakes his head and turns back toward the water.  He rests heavily on the rail while gathering himself.  “You—You’re trying to resurrect something long dead.”  He turns back on her again, jabbing his finger at her as he yells.  “I knew you were mad.  After the way you fell apart, after the things you said.  I knew you were unhinged, but they convinced me to take you in.  Ordered it.  They said your madness could work in our favor, make you adaptable.  Make you the perfect mole.  And here you are, rogue, ignoring Council orders, ignoring your duty to your people!”

            “With all due respect, sir, what I did, I did with Council approval and support.”

            Erak stops, stares.  “What? Who would?”

            “Councilor Marilith Tearam,” Nina says.  “While I won’t go so far as to say she expressly told me to give the signet to a student, I would like to point out the limitations of the signet ring technology and…”

            “I know the limitations,” Erak says.  He glares at her for a long moment and then turns away to pace in the dust.  His body is rigid, tightly wound, like he wants to strike at her or at anything.  He goes to the guard rail and pulls a case from his chest pocket.  Carefully, he balances it on the rail and uses the contents to roll a cigarette.  After lighting it and taking a long draw, he asks, “And the other Councilors know about this?”

            “I am uncertain.”

            “Well, regardless of whatever inferences you may have made when conversing with her, your actions are unacceptable, and I demand you take that ring back from her.”

            “Sir, if she has already put it on…”

            “Then you kill her,” Erak says, “Should anyway, with everything you’ve told her.”

            “Sir.”

            “You made the mess.  You clean it up,” he says.  “Get the ring back, whatever it takes.”

            “Respectfully, I refuse, sir.”

            Erak stops, his eyes wide, his jaw tight.  His cigarette burns, pinched between his fingers, forgotten for the moment.  “You what?”

            “The demons have returned.  The worlds are changing, and humanity has every right to be involved in their own future.”

            “The humans are one uprising away from being demons themselves!  History has proven that already, and the signet armors are just giving them dangerous weapons to turn against us.”

            “You don’t know that.  You don’t know them.”

            “Says the woman who has been here for a handful of months,” Erak screams.  “I’ve been here for years, decades!  I’ve seen them, seen what they can do and what they can’t.  They’re not the noble savages you imagine them to be, damn it.  They’re just savages!”

            “You isolate yourself, view them from a macroscopic picture.  You see numbers, figures, news reports, but you don’t know any of them.  You don’t see the people, the individuals.”

            “You’re playing with fire here, Olivier, and you’re going to burn everything.  Burn the Empire right to the ground.  Humanity—and the Knights—will be our undoing.  Remember Belquis?  History repeats itself.”

            Nina crosses her arms and stares him in the eyes.  “I disagree.”

            Erak stares back and paces.  He takes a quick, shaky suck on the cigarette.  “So, you refuse the orders of your commanding officer.”

            “I find that his order is conflict with the orders of those above him.”

            He sneers.  “Then I guess we take this to the Council.  And this time, Lieutenant, your achievements won’t save you.  This is treason.”

            “It’s not,” Nina says.  “I am doing what I am meant to do: protecting humanity.”

            “Enough.  Now you’re wasting my time,” Erak says, storming past her.  “We settle this at court.” Without another word he climbs into the SUV and pulls out, throwing dust and rocks in his wake.  Nina stays behind and stares into the water.  She listens to the gentle surging of its flow and finds that the night air somehow seems much, much colder.

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            The next day Kit drives Geneva home from classes.  They part ways in front of Geneva’s house, but only after promising to hook up some time later.  Geneva, for the most part, enjoys these rides, but each time she watches Kit leave, she feels somehow cheated out of the better friend experience.  Still, she sees Kit off with a wave and a smile.

            Inside of the house she hides out in her room.  Everything weighs heavily on her mind.  Kit confuses her, classes vex her as every day she falls farther and farther behind, and then there is the ring she has hidden in her desk drawer and the monster from another world that threw her down the stairs.

            She sighs and pulls out her biology book.  However much she hates school, it is at least something she can comprehend.  Monsters from other worlds and the forces that combat them seem so big, so science fiction, that she doesn’t even want to waste time trying to wrap her mind around it.  So, instead, she stretches her legs and enjoys denial.

            Lying on her bed, she opens the book in front of her and starts the assigned reading.  She just finds her place when Beatrice enters the room unannounced and leaps onto her bed.  “So, you are home!”

            “So are you,” Geneva says, pretending to read.

            “Have any big issues that need airing?”

            “Nope.  But I do have plenty of homework.”

            “I see,” Beatrice says.  She closes Geneva’s book.  “Talk to me.”

            “Bea, I’m studying.  Come on.”

            “Whoops,” Beatrice says.  She takes the book and tosses it out into the hall.  “Look it that!  The book just flew.  That’s some sort of divine intervention there.  Clearly, God doesn’t want you to study.  Oh, well, seems like you’ve got some free time then.”  Beatrice sits with her legs crossed and her back to the wall.  She leans forward and stares Geneva in the eyes.  “So, how you doing?”

            “Annoyed,” Geneva says, “You?”

            “Annoying.  But, seriously, tell me what’s up.”

            “Bea, my life really can’t be this interesting to you.”

            “It’s not, but you’re my sister, so I’m here for you anyway.”

            Geneva rolls her eyes and crawls out of bed.  She grabs her book from the hall.  On the way back Beatrice pokes her bruised knee. “Ow!”

            “Where’d you get that?”

            “I fell into a big pile of none of your business.”

            “Grinch.”

            “I’m busy!”

            “Then just tell me what I want to know and I’ll,” Beatrice gestures toward the door, “Leave.”

            “Or you could just,” Geneva mimics the gesture, “Leave anyway.”

            Beatrice gives a long, silent stare.  “So, you and Kit.  She metaphorically stick it to you yet?”

            Geneva slumps onto the bed and sighs.  “I hate you.”

            “So evasive.  But then, girls do like a mystery.  You like girls, right?’

            Geneva opens her book.

            Beatrice takes it and tosses it onto the floor.  “Boys?”

            Geneva glares.  “Really?”

            “Really.”

            “Sometimes, Bea.”

            “You know you wuv me,” Beatrice says, before grabbing Geneva’s head with one arm and giving a noogie with her free hand.

            Geneva wriggles free and falls from the bed, landing on the very science book she should be reading.  She yelps and holds her rear as she rolls to the side. “Fine!  Things are weird between us, okay?  Weird!”

            “Weird how?  Like, butterflies weird or stranger-danger weird?”

            “Like, mortifying-anxiety weird,” Geneva says.  “I don’t know.  I don’t think about it much.  Have other things on my mind.”

            “Oh?  Like what?”

            “Like,” Geneva stands and holds up her book, “School, for one thing.  You know school.  That thing I fail at?”

            “You also fail at dating,” Beatrice says thoughtfully.

            “Hate.”  Geneva falls back into the bed and carefully flips her book open.  Before she can read a word, Beatrice takes it and tosses it away again.  Geneva hangs her head in defeat.

            “So, what makes things between you two weird exactly?”

            “The situation, Bea.  We’re friends—she’s my only friend, really.”

            “Now, Gene, I’m your,” Beatrice bursts into laughter.  “Yeah, yeah, she’s your only friend.”  She stops when Geneva glares.  “Anyway, continue.”

            “Well, she kissed me, she might like me, and I—I don’t know.  Anyway.”  Geneva slides from the bed once again.  “She says we’ll hang out more and we never do, and…”

            The phone rings.  Beatrice and Geneva trade glances.  It rings again.

            “You’re closer,” Geneva says, but Beatrice points at her.  She scowls in return.  “By Zeus, you’re a pain today,” she says, scooping up the phone.  “Hello, Oak’s Residence…”

            “Genny?”

            “Kit?”  Geneva looks wide-eyed at Beatrice, who smiles and gives a thumbs up.  “Uh.  I mean, hi, what’s up?”

            “Nothing much, I was wondering…”

            “What’s she saying?  What’s she saying?”

            “Shut up,” Geneva whispers, covering the mouthpiece.  Beatrice tries to yank the phone from her, and Geneva slaps her hands away repeatedly.  “Shut up.  Stop it, Bea.”

            “Would that work for you?  Do you have time for that?”

            “Course, I would love to,” Geneva says into the phone, and then to Beatrice, “Oh, grow up!  Stop it!  God!”  She shoves Beatrice away with her foot and turns her back.  Dejected, Beatrice runs from the room.  Geneva releases a triumphant sigh and settles on the bed.  “It sounds fun,” she says.

            “Cool, so what time should I pick you up?”

            “Uh, what?”

            There is a click and heavy breathing on the line.

            “You okay, Genny?”

            “Oh, I’m fine, sweetiecakes,” Beatrice says in the deepest, huskiest voice she can manage.  “Should you bring protection or should I?”

            “Beatrice, off the phone, now!”

            “Aw, you’re no fun.”

            “Excuse me, what’s going on?”

            “Off the phone, Bea!”

            “Oh, fine.”  A huff.  A click.  A pause.

            “Geneva?”

            “Hey, Kit, sorry about all of that, I,” Geneva rubs her face, holds her head in her hand.  “Well, my sister is crazy.”

            “No, it’s fine,” Kit says, and Geneva hears her laughing.  “It’s kind of cute.”

            Geneva blushes.  “Anyway.”

            “You have no idea what I was saying earlier, do you?”

            “None,” Geneva says.  “Sorry.”

            “No, it’s cool.  I was just saying, I have some history stuff that I need help studying for, and we haven’t gotten to see each other much lately, rides aside.  So, I was hoping we could grab something to eat and get some studying done.”

            “Really,” Geneva says, her cheeks growing warmer.  She stares through her open doorway, into the hallway.  “What about your parents?”

            “I told them it was to study. For school stuff they lifted my grounding,” Kit says.  “Or lightened it a bit.  Anyway, you in?”

            “Uh, yeah, sure, yeah,” Geneva says.  “I would love to.  Earlier, I was just distracted.  By Beatrice, but yeah. We should totally—Yeah!”

            “Cool,” Kit says, a smile in her voice.  “I’ll swing by, pick you up around five or six.  We’ll grab some burgers.  I know a place.”

            “Cool, that—that sounds good.  I like meat.”

            “Right,” Kit says.  “See you then.  And don’t forget your books.”

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            Claude’s never had a real job before.  Instead, he focused his efforts on other things.  From a young age he knew he was special.  Everyone did, and they supported him as he cultivated skills that he felt were necessary for the destiny that he knew awaited him. He developed the skills needed to help people, to save lives, to protect, and when leaving home he had been confident in them.

            Now, however, he feels like he is in a bit over his head.  If asked as a child what he imagined his future to be, Claude would have said something about fighting dragons, perhaps even saving a princess.  He never would have thought that his illustrious destiny would involve living off of someone else’s kindness and working as a dish washer.

            Dish washing isn’t tough but overwhelming at times.  His first four shifts go by with misleading ease.  Today is the real test of his mettle, and everyone has been quick to remind him of that.  The hotel, a locally owned small business, makes most of its money from renting out the second-floor hall for banquets and presentations.  That is where the money is and, as Claude is learning, where the work is.

            He started the shift with an uneasy feeling.  Everyone had been talking it up.  At first it seems liked exaggeration, but then he saw the food they were preparing.  There were eight different options and redundancies prepared for seconds and thirds should it be necessary.  Even then, the cooks are still working.

            The start of the shift is uneventful as he waits for the meals to be served and pulled.  He runs errands for the cooks, switching out empty containers, running utensils here or there that were used for one thing that can’t mix with another.  It is hectic but straightforward.

            Then the first dishes come back and everything falls apart.  The sheer volume of dishes, compounded with his everyday difficulties, leave him falling behind.  At first, he feels solid, like he is meeting demands, but then the flap on the dish washer falls off, and he has to stop to fix it back into place.

            An hour later, Claude has his head down and is making steady, if somewhat slow, progress.  He is scraping a pan clean, trying to get to the burnt remains of food before they crystalize into diamond hard specs that require a sacrifice of blood and sweat.  Then, one of the cooks stops by and drop off another set of dishes.

            A few servers come to him, demanding clean cups and plates.  Claude looks at them and then at the pile of dishes beside him, and then he sighs and lets them know he will do his best.  They storm away in response.

            A few minutes later one of the cooks comes back.  She peeks at him under the cup-rack.  “Hey, what’s your name,” she asks.

            Claude looks at her.  She is pretty, dark hair, dark skin, big brown eyes.  She wears her hair back in a high ponytail and fills out her uniform well.

            “Uh, Claude.”

            “Okay, Claude, you ever done dishes before?”

            He shakes his head.

            She smiles, a big, warm smile.  “Okay, then let me give you some advice.  Before I got this job, I always did stuff like this, and there’s a secret to getting by.  No matter how overwhelmed you are, no matter how stressed everyone is getting, all you’ve got to do is take a deep breath and do one dish at a time.  Focus on that and before you know it, you’ll be caught up.”

            Claude nods dumbly and notices, for the first time, that she is filling up a rack of glasses.  “What are you doing?”

            “I’m helping out back here for a bit,” she says, and she steps in beside him to feed the rack through the dish washer.  “I’ll get the girls their cups and plates at the very least, and if I have time, we’ll punch out some of these pans, okay?”

            Claude watches her for a moment.

            “Come on,” she says, moving to the other end of the washer to grab the cups she just ran through.  “No time to gawk, sweetie.  We’ve got to get.”

            “Uh, right,” Claude says, returning his attention to the pan.

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            “Why don’t I know this Katherine girl?”

            “Probably because you’ve never met her,” Geneva says, leaning against the kitchen counter while her mother scrutinizes her.  Beatrice sits at the table, a book in front of her, pretending to read.  For the last few minutes she’s been peeking over it, watching her mother fuss about the kitchen, scrubbing things, and playing a one-sided game of twenty questions.

            “Well, clearly.  What I want to know is WHY I’ve never met her.”

            Geneva shrugs.  “Because she’s never come over?”

            “Geneva Evelyn Oaks.”

            “You just haven’t, okay?  It’s not a big deal.”

            Geneva’s mother pauses.  “Does she do drugs?  Are you afraid to introduce us because…”

            “Mom, you’re being extra strength crazy right now.”

            Her mother sighs and rests her hands on the counter.  “Okay, maybe I am being a bit—Do you need money?”

            “I’m just going to order a water.”

            “Nonsense, Genie.  We can afford to let you eat with your friends.”  Her mother walks briskly from the room.

            Geneva looks at her sister.  “Help me!”

            “And ruin my fun?  No way.”

            “This will come back to bite you someday.  Karma, Bea.  Karma.”

            “Of course it will.  But for now?  It’s funny.”

            Their mother returns to the room with a few folded bills.  She slips them into Geneva’s hands.  “There.  That should be enough for something.  Not enough to buy the entire place, mind you, but still…”

            “Mom, it’s fine.  Thanks.”

            “I’m sorry, honey, you’re just my baby girl.”  She hugs Geneva.

            “I’m sixteen.”

            “Sixteen isn’t very old, Gene,” Beatrice says from the kitchen table.

            Geneva shoots her a glare.  “I appreciate whatever you can give, mom.  And, I promise, Kit’s fine.  No drugs.”

            “I’m sure she is,” her mother says, and she trades the hug for an anxious smile.  “You have fun now.”

            “I…”  A knock at the door and Geneva looks away.  “I’ve got to go.  Love you,” she says, and she places a quick kiss on her mother’s cheek before rushing out of the room.  When she reaches the door, she hears Beatrice’s heavy footfalls following her.  She slams the door behind her.

            Kit stares.  “Everything okay?”

            “Fine, everything’s fine,” Geneva says, leaning against the door.  She gives Kit a quick look over and, somehow, expected her to look different.  All of the stories Kit tells always include club scenes and parties where, presumably, Kit wears two thin strips over her chest and possibly one over her crotch for modesty.  The t-shirt and jeans she sports today are somewhat underwhelming.

            “Well, ready to go?”

            Geneva nods and holds up her books.

            Kit grins.  “Okay, then come on,” she says, and she turns and leads the way to the car.

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            Kit holds the door for Geneva at the diner, just like she did at the car.  The ride was silent and, for Geneva at least, somewhat uncomfortable.  She sat with her books on her lap and stared ahead.  Periodically, she glanced at Kit to find her smiling, which made the situation somehow stranger.

            Inside of the diner they take a seat.  The interior is, to Geneva’s surprise, quite clean and well-lit.  When they first pulled up a few burned-out neon bulbs left her feeling like she had made a bad decision somewhere along the way.  Once seated, she stares at her reflection in the polished, yellow surface of the table.

            They sit in a booth by the window looking out on the highway.  The sun is setting beyond a few tall buildings, and the sky glows golden orange; the light catches on the windows and carries through the city streets.  It makes the landscape look like it’s on fire.  Geneva stares out the window until the waitress arrives.

            Their waitress is a wispy blonde with too much lipstick.  She takes their orders—the biggest burger on the menu and a milkshake for Kit; a water and, at Kit’s insistence, a small, plain burger for Geneva.  After that, the waitress leaves them alone, and Kit stares across the table at Geneva.

            “Yes,” Geneva says after a long moment.

            “You could have gotten more.

            “I know.  I didn’t want more.”

            “You really don’t want more?”

            “What? You calling me fat?”

            “I’m calling you stupid,” Kit says, but she is grinning.  The waitress returns with their drinks.  Kit stirs her milkshake and eyes Geneva’s water.  “You could have gotten a drink, too.”

            “I like water.”

            “Really?” Kit shrugs.  “Learn something new every day.”

            After that, they settle in to study.  Kit helps Geneva with a handful of math problems and explains some of the more complicated aspects of biology in easy to understand terms.  In return, Geneva outlines the various events they have covered thus far and how they relate to each other.  When their food arrives, they take a break.

            Kit starts off with an enormous bite.  “You know, it’s pretty amazing how you can do that,” she says.

            “Do what,” Geneva asks, and she looks around for comic effect.

            “The history.  It’s like you see how it all fits together.”

            Geneva shrugs and nibbles her food.  “It’s nothing hard.  It’s all like a story, I guess.  I mean, Bea always used to read to me when I was a kid, and I just think of it like that.  Like, I’m following along with the lesson or something.  I don’t know.”

            “Beatrice read to you? Not your parents?”

            “Nah, my parents were busy at work all the time, picking up extra shifts and all of that.  Besides, I’m not even one hundred percent my dad knows how to read.  Beatrice, though, she’s always kind of liked words, I guess.  So, when we were little, she would get all of our fairytale books—hand-me-downs from the days when dinosaurs roamed the earth and my parents were in diapers, I swear—and she would read them to me.”  Geneva looks away, blushes.  “It’s stupid.”

            “No, it’s cute.  My parents always got the help to read to me.  I had a nanny for a long time, but when I got old enough to take care of myself, they fired her.”  Kit picks at her fries.  “So, anyway, what’s the gossip around school?”

            Geneva gives a flat stare.  “You expect me to know gossip?”

            “Is that a bad thing?”

            “Not bad.  A bit sad, maybe.  Same ad sound, anyway.”  Geneva shrugs.  “I keep too busy for that kind of stuff.”

            Kit grins, rolls her eyes.  “Oh, yeah?”

            “Yeah.  How’s I.S.S.?”

            “Wonderful,” Kit says, and she slumps forward.  “I’m stuck in there with Lana.  The tension is thick.  I’m half-afraid she’s going to attack me while I have my back turned.”

            “You’re afraid of her?”

            “She’s stronger than she looks.  Her dad has had her in martial arts classes—classes as in plural—since I’ve known her.”

            “Yeah, well, at least she didn’t get away scot-free.  In other news, who is Scott, and why is he free?”

            Kit shrugs and takes another bite.  By this point her plate is mostly clean, save for a few stray fries and a smear of ketchup.  Geneva, on the other hand, has hardly touched hers.  Kit looks across the table and frowns.  “If you don’t hurry up, I’ll eat yours, too.”

            Geneva shoves the plate away.  “Go ahead.”

            “I was kidding, Genny.”

            “And I’m serious.  Jewish, remember?  And I’m pretty sure this beef isn’t kosher”

            Kit rolls her eyes again.  “Then we’ll get you a carryout.  Excuse me, wait…”

            “I don’t need a carryout.  Just eat it.”

            “Genny, I bought it for you.  You should have it.”

            “I don’t want it,” Geneva says.  “My mom will throw it away.”

            “No, she won’t.”

            “She will.  She’s Jewish, too.  Not to spoil the ending for you, but everyone in my family is.  Well, except dad.”

            “You’ve told me she makes lasagna.”

            “Yeah, and?”

            “With hamburger in it.”

            Geneva pauses, and then says, “Listen, there are nuances here, Kit, nuances you just don’t under—,” she sighs, “Fine, get me the stupid, ugly carryout box.”

            Kit calls the waitress over and gets a box.  They study a bit more and then Kit goes to pay.  Afterward, they go out the door and find Kit’s car in the parking lot.  Kit holds the door open for Geneva again and then drives her home.

            The day fades seamlessly into night. Streetlights turn on and replace the warm sunlight with harsh, pale colors.  Geneva watches them drift by through the window.

            Kit stops at the curb outside of Geneva’s house.  “So, we’re here now,” she says, “Get out!”

            Geneva sulks.  “Are—Are you going to call me tomorrow?”

            “Never!” Kit laughs evilly.

            They both fall into real laughter.  It dies quickly and is replaced with equally real, anxious silence.  Geneva scrapes her thumb nail across the foam of her carryout box.  She etches a smiley face into it.  They both stop smiling.

            “Kit, when you kissed me…”

            “Yeah? What about it?”

            Geneva looks up and find Kit lounging in the driver’s seat. She is attentive but in a state of complete calm, and it is then Geneva realizes that she is the only one who is anxious.  The sight of her friends calm somehow makes the anxiety more intense, more acute.  She nearly pushes her thumb through the Styrofoam.

            “Well, you…”  Geneva chews her cheek.  “Like, what was that about?”

            “What do you mean? I like you, Genny.  I think you’re cute.”

            “But, I’m not,” Geneva says.  “I mean, I have a big forehead…”

            “No, you don’t.”

            “And I’m fat!”

            “You’re fine.”

            “So, like, what? Do you have a crush on me or something?”

            “I do.”

            “Oh.”  Geneva stares now, wide-eyed, silent.  Her cheeks feel hot.

            “Hey now, don’t worry about this.  It isn’t going to be weird.  We’re still friends.  I’ve had crushes on straight friends before.  It’s kind of part of the whole gay thing, I guess, but it’s no big deal.” She touches Geneva’s shoulder, squeezes it.  “So, please don’t get weirded out.”

            “I’m—I’m fine,” Geneva says.  She forces a smile.  “I need to get inside, though.  My mom is probably having a fit and a half.”

            “Yeah, good idea.  I’m technically still grounded, so I should get out, too.”  She smiles.  “See you at school tomorrow?”

            Geneva lingers with her hand on the door handle. “Yeah,” she says, and she ducks out quickly and runs to the door.  She waits for Kit to pull away before looking back.

 

The Knights of Sheba 103 A…End