The Knights of Sheba, Ep. 15: "Unfaithful" A

Episode Fifteen: Unfaithful

 

            A week has passed since the trial.  Now, Nina is entirely in charge of the border defense and is promising great changes.  Despite this, Geneva is on her back staring up at the basement ceiling, panting and sweating and, more than anything, feeling a bit foolish.  The only difference she can see in any of it is that Viness is now the one who put her there.

            “Now your stance is too wide,” Nina says.  She watches from the sidelines while going through paperwork.  Even with all of her new responsibilities, she makes time to see Geneva fail.  Geneva likes to say it is kind of her, but she always says it with a glare.  “You put too much weight on your right foot.  It makes you heavy in the front.”

            “You said to brace against attacks.”

            “I did, but if you stay rooted like that, you’re attacks will lack reach and follow through, and it will not only leave you open but make it easy to control your energy.  That’s why he keeps putting you to the ground.”

            Viness grins.  “Also, I’m just faster.”

            Geneva frowns at him.  “You’re also a trained soldier with however-long-you-people-live years of experience picking on a seventeen-year-old girl.”

            “A seventeen-year-old girl I’m training to be a soldier.”  He messes her hair.  “We all have to start somewhere, kid.”

            She blows him a raspberry in response.

            “Try adjusting your stance, keeping limber and distributing your weight evenly,” Nina says.  She licks her finger and returns to sorting papers, looking up regularly to check their progress.

            Viness and Geneva part and ease into their stances.  Viness keeps his stance wide but seems fluid whenever he strikes.  He wears sweatpants, a braid, and a smile.  His body is lithe when it moves, bending and twisting in ways that make Geneva hurt to see.

            “And remember, Geneva, watch your punches,” he says as they walk a slow circle, staring at each other.  “You’re supposed to punch through your opponent for power, but you punch too hard.  You start too far out and then over-extend your reach.  It puts too much momentum behind a blow that won’t land.  Don’t strike until you’re close, and don’t put yourself into it unless it’s a killing blow.”

            Geneva sighs, nods, tries not to trip over her feet and not to look down and check her footing.  “Right.  Better stance, don’t over-extend.  Any other ways I suck?”

            “Yes,” Nina says.  “Think fast.”

            Viness charges, moving quickly but with control.  Geneva watches him, backpedals to the edge of the sparing mat and walks the rim.  He keeps close to her, approaching and stopping, testing and teasing her.  She can almost hear his future laughter, as if it’s echoing back through time just to taunt her.

            “Can’t win a war by retreating,” he says, moving around to cut her off.

            “Do you know that? I mean, have you ever tried? Like, really tried?”

            “Ms. Oaks,” Nina says, drawing Geneva’s attention.  “Focus!”

            Viness steps in just as she her attention is turning back to him.  She thinks to strike, hesitates and watches him instead as he lands a soft jab to her shoulder.  She lets it roll off, steps into him and tries to punch him in the chest but hits the air.  He takes her arm, moves her, and soon she is flipping again.  The landing forces the air from her lungs.

            She coughs.  “Why does that always happen?”

            He looks down over her, still smiling.  “You think too much, and you only react.  If you don’t control the battle, then you are controlled.  And that makes you easy to beat.”

            “Then when should I act if not after you swing?”

            “As I’m doing it?  Watch how I move, how I stand.  Predict my movements before I even know what I am doing.  A lot of this is instinct.”  He pulls her to standing and helps to smooth out her clothes.

            She huffs.  “Which I clearly don’t have.”

            Viness laughs.  “The punch was better though.”

            She gives a half-hearted thumbs up.

            “Ready for more?”

            She frowns.

            “Come on,” he says, stepping back, sinking into his stance again.  Geneva envies how limber he is.

            “Can’t I just wallow for a bit?”

            “I don’t know.  Let me ask.” Viness looks at Ms. Olivia.  “Boss, she wants to wallow.”

            “Then let her wallow while she does some push-ups.”

            Viness looks back to Geneva.  “Well?”

            “I hate both of you.”  She looks pointedly at Ms. Olivia. “You because you’re cruel,” then to Viness, “And you because you enjoy her cruelty.”  With another huff, she drops for push-ups and focuses on keeping her back straight, because she knows however much paperwork Ms. Olivia has, she is always watching.

            Viness drops down beside her.  “If you’re going to whine, I’ll do them with you.”

            “I still hate you.”

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            After training, Geneva changes into clean clothes and finds Ms. Olivia waiting outside on the porch.  The weather is improving after winter.  The cold is still there, but the sun is out, melting the snow and warming the air.  On the horizon rain clouds gather, a usual sight in spring.

            They sit together on the porch and sip water while watching the clouds drift by.  Long shadows cascade over the landscape, interrupting the light at irregular intervals.  Geneva hugs one of her knees to her chest while Ms. Olivia sits back on her arms.

            “We haven’t had time to talk since I came back,” Nina says.  She looks at Geneva.  “How are classes?”

            “Fine, I guess?  I’m passing, but just barely.”  She meets Ms. Olivia’s gaze.  “Don’t give me that look.  I’m a busy girl.”

            Nina shrugs.  “And how is Ms. Wright?”

            “Still in I.S.S., still pretty, still her.  We haven’t had much time together, honestly, but we talk almost every night.  And I use the phone to text her when I can.  Thanks for that.”

            “I still wish you wouldn’t.”

            “And I still don’t care.”  Geneva hugs her leg tighter.  “Anyway, I’m teenager-stuff.  How is the,” Geneva waves her hand in a lazy circle, “Elfy-stuff?”

            “Complicated, as they often are.  The Council supports us on the surface, but they are watching.  Many of them don’t like me personally, and even more don’t like you and what you represent.”

            “What do I represent? Children in the military?  Yeah, it’s pretty-well frowned on everywhere, really.”

            “No, Ms. Oaks, I meant the Knights and the empowerment of humanity.  They want to keep you on a leash.”

            “Well, isn’t that kinky.”

            “We need to be careful.  They won’t wait for us to make a mistake like they did for Erak.  With us, they’ll look for them.”

            “Mm.” Geneva stares down into her water.  She moves it in small circles, watches the water climb up the edges of the glass.  “What happened to him, anyway?”

            “He has been punished, court marshaled and striped of his rank.  Now, they are making him work off his crimes alongside many of the very people he hates so much.”  Ms. Olivia looks at her.  “Honestly, it is more than I had expected from it.”

            Geneva smiles.  “It’s not exactly a whole book, but I guess it’s pretty good.”

            Ms. Olivia nods.

            “Hey, Ms. O, I was thinking.”

            “Yes?”

            Geneva sets her glass to the side and stares into the sky.  She can feel Ms. Olivia’s eyes on her and isn’t particularly comfortable with it.  She switches legs because the one she was hugging feels numb.  “I was just—The whole thing, with him, and when I—I know you didn’t do anything, and…”

            “I understand, Ms. Oaks.  It was a confusing situation.  In such circumstances it is easy to make a mistake, to see villains in every corner.”

            “Especially since you all kind of look alike to me.”  Geneva grins at Ms. Olivia, who is stoic.  “It was joke.”  She squints at her teacher’s fair features, knits her brow.  “Sort of?”

            “I assume you know where my loyalties stand now, however?”

            “Not really.  Not entirely, but I know they’re not against me, and that’s enough.”

            Ms. Olivia nods.  “Good.”

            An engine echoes through the woods and soon Kit’s car reveals itself.  It pulls into the drive and stops beside a long row of black SUVs.  Kit gets out, waves her long, slender arm as she smiles.  “Hi, you two!”

            Ms. Olivia waves back.  “She seems in high spirits.”

            “She always is.”  Geneva stands from the porch, leaves her glass where it is.  She looks back at Ms. Olivia.  “See you tomorrow, then.”

            “Assuming nothing goes wrong.”

            “Fingers crossed.”

            “What?”

            “It’s a human thing,” Geneva says.  “Means let’s hope.”

            “Oh.  Then, yes.  Fingers crossed.”

            Geneva waves and turns to meet Kit.  They kiss, and Kit takes her hand and leads her back to the car.

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            Kit drives Geneva home and then waits around in the living room while Geneva takes a shower.   While Kit sits alone, occupying herself by texting friends, Geneva is upstairs soaking and scrubbing her training away.  She rests against the shower wall and lets her aching muscles soak in the warmth while they can, and she pushes away tomorrow.

            After her shower, Geneva runs a quick brush through her hair and hurries to dress in her room.  She comes down wearing jeans and a white tee with a thin jacket over that.  Her hair hangs wet over her shoulders.  She meets Kit in the living room and finds her parents there as well.

            Stopping in the doorway, she looks between them and tries not to look surprised.  “Oh.  Hey.  You two are here.  In a room.  With Kit.  Alone.”

            Her mother smiles at her from the couch, where she sits beside Kit.  “And is that a problem?”

            Geneva pauses, looks first at Kit, who smiles back, and then at her father, who shies away.  Finally, she meets her mother’s gaze.  “I don’t know, mom.  Is it?”

            Her mother rolls her eyes.  “Now, don’t get smart, missy.”

            “Right.  Sorry.”

            “Kit was just telling us about your friends that you’re going to see.”

            Geneva, who had taken to sulking, returns quickly to shock when she hears this.  She also manages to yell Kit’s name without raising her voice at all.  “Kit.” In response, she earns a motherly frown.

            “Now, Geneva, don’t be rude.”  Her mother leans over to Kit.  “She always does this, tries to hide things from us.  As if we’d be upset that she has friends.  Honestly, I’m surprised she ever invited you over in the first place.”

            “Oh, trust me, I’ve come to regret it,” Geneva says, and she hears Kit snicker.

            Her mother looks between them and sighs.  “Well, at least your friend finds your antics funny.”

            “How else do you expect me to keep her around?  Anyway, I’m ready to go when you are, Kit.”

            Kit stands and crosses the room, and Geneva lingers in the doorway as her mother rises to meet her as well.  They hug and, when Geneva is ready to part, she is kept there by her mother.  “You have fun.”

            “I will.”

            “And call if you’ll be late.”

            “Mom.  Really.”

            “I know, I’m fussing.”  She steps away, smiles while adjusting Geneva’s jacket.  She smooths the hood on it and fiddles with the tassels.  “But, I’m your mother.  So, I’m allowed.”

            “Right.”

            Her mother waves over her to Kit, who waves in return.  “Goodbye, Kit, it was nice seeing you again.”

            “You, too, Mrs. Oaks. I’m sure I’ll be back soon.”

            “You’re always welcome.”

            Together, Kit and Geneva go to the door.  Geneva holds it open for Kit and follows only after receiving another round of farewell from her mother.  On the way, Kit takes Geneva’s hand, earning a blush and a glance back.

            “Kit!”

            “It’s fine.  She’s not watching,” Kit says.  She loosens her grip.  “But I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable.”

            Geneva lets her hand linger, and then tightens her grip.  “No, it’s fine,” she says.  “I’m going to need you to drag me to the car anyway.”

            “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

            “Yeah, that’s what everyone keeps saying.”  They stop at the car and this time, Kit holds the door for Geneva.  Once Kit is in the driver’s seat, Geneva continues, “But every time I get invited to go anywhere I either get drunk or get in a fight.”

            “I doubt there will be any demons,” Kit says while pulling away from Geneva’s house.  “But then, I guess demons are what you two have in common.  That and lovely girlfriends.”

            Geneva looks at Kit, then looks ahead.  “Well, then let’s hope that our lovely girlfriends can carry the conversation, cause outside of monsters, I don’t think we have much to talk about.”

            “You’ll find something,” Kit says, and she takes Geneva’s hand again, squeezes it.  “And I’ll be right there with you.”

            That, Geneva realizes, is actually something of a comfort.

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            Kit holds the door for Geneva and follows her up the stairs.  The halls are empty and cold as they pass through them.  The carpet is green, old, and threadbare.  Kit stares distastefully at something that she hopes isn’t mold and keeps her hands in her pockets just in case.  She looks at Geneva.  “You nervous?”

            “I’m,” Geneva look back at her and sighs, “Well, it’s weird, right?”

            Kit shrugs.

            “I mean, they’re adults.”

            Kit shrugs again.

            “Yeah?”

            “What?  I have adult friends.”

            “Dealers aren’t friends, Kit.  I keep telling you.”

            “Ha.  And, oh yeah, before I forget: ha.  But, seriously, how old is he?”

            “I don’t know.  Over twenty, I think.”

            “See, that’s not too bad.”

            “I guess.”  Geneva sighs again.  “And, I mean, it’s not like he’s trying to sleep with me.  So.”

            “That’s not so bad, either.  I’ve slept with twenty.”

            “I feel like we’re stumbling into one of those things I don’t want to know about you.”

            Kit flashes a smile, leans into Geneva.  “Oh? You don’t want to hear about my crazy sex life anymore?”

            “I never did,” Geneva says, and she stares into Kit’s grin.  “Just saying, keep the mystery alive.”

            “Whatever you say, dear.”

            They reach the fourth floor and go down the hall.  The carpet here is more off color than the last, has large bare patches and stains.  Kit grimaces as they pass.  They stop a few doors down, and Geneva looks at the door.  The number fell off long ago it looks like. 

            “I think this is it.”

            “Then knock,” Kit says.

            Geneva takes a deep breath.  She knocks, and Shirley answers.  Shirley is wearing a loose, pink blouse and a pair of jeans.  Her hair is back, styled to frame her face.  She smiles when she sees them and welcomes them in.

            “Claude, they’re here!”  She closes the door behind them.  “Welcome, you two.  It’s not much, but it’s ours.”

            Geneva enters with Kit trailing, and she agrees that it isn’t much.  It is the same apartment she remembers, except now they have a couch and a small dining table.  Outside, downtown is paled by midday light.  From here, she can see a few squat, stone buildings and a number of parking lots.

            Kit doesn’t seem to take notice.  She is instead drawn into the kitchenette, where a powerful and wonderful smell radiates from the oven.  Geneva smells it, too, but isn’t sure what it is.

            “Hello, there, I’m Shirley,” Shirley says, shaking hands with Geneva first and then with Kit.

            “Geneva.”

            “Katherine,” Kit says, smiling, “But you can call me Kit. That’s what this one calls me.”  She points at Geneva, who waves as if on cue.”

            Shirley smiles.  “It good to finally, really meet the two of you,” she says.  “And lunch should be ready soon.  I hope you two like quiche.”

            “That’s the thing with the egg and cheese,” Geneva says, sniffing the air again.  She finds herself drifting toward the oven.

            Shirley watches, chuckles.  “Yes.  Yes, it is.”

            Geneva makes a strange gurgling sound, and Kit shakes her head.  “That means she likes it,” Kit says.  “I think.  Oh.  Should we have brought anything? I didn’t even think to.”

            “No, you’re fine,” Shirley says.  “Just go take a seat at the table.  It’s small, but…”

            “It’s cute,” Kit says.

            “Well, thank you,” Shirley says.  She smiles out at her apartment.  “We do our best, and we’re doing it on our own.”

            “And that’s something in itself, right?”

            Shirley nods.  “Would you two like anything to drink?”

            “Water, please.”

            “And Geneva?”  Shirley and Kit turn to find Geneva hovering around the oven.  They stare.

            Geneva looks back, blushes.  She holds her stomach.  “Sorry.  I—I kind of didn’t eat this morning.”

            Their stare is broken by their laughter and, Geneva, feeling very silly, decides it is better to wait at the table, where she won’t get so much attention.

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            Three helpings later, Geneva is reclined in her chair, rubbing her belly and humming her contentment.  The others watch her in mixed awe and, in Claude’s case, mild disgust.

            “We have a bit more, if you…”

            “No, thank you, Shirley.”  Geneva sits up.  Already, contentment is turning to regret.  “It was amazing, but if I get any fatter I think Ms. O might murder me.”

            “Fat?  Dear, you don’t look fat at all.”

            Geneva looks down, tugs on her shirt, and then looks at Kit.  “Guess I have lost weight.  But you should’ve have seen me before all this knight business.  Was like a blimp.  A blimp!”

            “Don’t pay attention to her,” Kit says.  “She was never that big.”

            Shirley looks between them, giggling at Geneva holds her hands apart and continues to mouth the word, “Blimp,” at her.

            “So, Claude,” Kit says, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that night you should up at my house.  You said something about knowing I was in danger.  What was that all about?  I assume you weren’t spying on me.”

            Claude wipes his mouth on his folded napkin and leaves the napkin on his plate.  He leans forward, with his hands together, and gives a long, thoughtful pause.  Then, he looks at Shirley, who shrugs and stands to start clearing the table.  “Well, it’s hard to explain, really.”

            “It’s not that hard,” Shirley says while staking plates.  He gives her a look, and she smiles back at him before turning to them.  “He’s magic.”

            “I’m not magic,” he says.  “It’s not magic.”

            “Limited experience with it, but sure looks like magic to me,” Geneva says, and Claude gives shoots her a cold glance.  “What?  It did.”

            “Well, it’s not.  Not really.  It’s like,” he sighs and holds his hands out, his fingers curl toward each other, like he is holding something between them, perhaps a world, perhaps an entire universe.  “There’s this energy, this universal will.  Call it God or whatever you like, but it’s there, and it’s all around us.  I can, somehow, I don’t know how, but I tap into it, and it lets me do things.”  He drops the universe to the table.  “But it’s not magic.”

            Geneva leans over to Kit and whispers, “Sounds like magic to me.”  Claude looks less amused by the second.

            “Okay, so it’s not magic, but what can you do with it exactly?  Other than make playing cards explodes,” Kit asks.

            “What are you, Gambit?”

            Claude shrugs.  “A lot of things.  I can twist the flow of things, reach into them and not quite remake them but redirect their energy.  That’s how I could make the arrows explode,” Claude says, looking at Geneva.  “And I can do other stuff, like make illusions or I could sharpen those cards into blades, basically.  It’s all about rearranging things.”

            “Mmhmm, definitely not magic,” Geneva says.

            He frowns at her.  “I also have premonitions, which is how I found you.  Or, well, it’s not premonitions, but heightened intuition.”  He smiles as Shirley returns and sets a cup of tea in front of him.  She settles beside him with her own cup and stirs cream in.  “It’s not always clear, but I can trust it.  That’s how I found you.  I didn’t know much other than you were in danger and it was related to Geneva.  From there, I just had to follow my gut.”

            “That sounds convenient,” Kit says, and Claude laughs.

            “Not so much.  Sometimes it’s clear.  Sometimes it’s just an itch at the back of my brain.  I don’t always figure it out but…”

            “Is that why you came up here?” Geneva asks the question. Everyone looks at her, and she looks back.  “What? I’m curious.”

            Claude nods.  “It is.  I could feel something wrong, that something was coming.  So, I came up here to fix it.”

            Geneva looks down at her open palm, at her fingers and at the signet ring she is wearing.  “Wish you had gotten here earlier.”

            “I was here from the start,” Claude says.  “I just didn’t know everything.  I didn’t realize how big the danger was or that the elves would be involved.”

            Geneva sighs.  “Wish they weren’t involved, but, you know what my nana used to say?  Of course not, because you never met her. Anyway, she said, wish in one hand and shi…”

            “Geneva.”  Kit sighs.

            “Well, it’s what she said.”

            Shirley laughs again while Kit, shaking her head and grinning, takes Geneva’s hand.

            “Anyway, how long have you known you can do all of that,” Kit asks.

            “Pretty much since I could talk.  My family knows.  Shirley did.  Everyone.”

            “And he was always so pompous about it,” Shirley says, giggling again as Claude sulks beside her.  “When we were kids, he used to show off, making fire from the air, bending light, and gosh, everything he tried he was good at.  Like he just knew how to do it all.”  She smiles at Claude.  “And you should meet his parents.  They’re so proud, they dote on him like crazy.”

            Claude, now leaning into his chair with crossed arms, grins and shrugs.

            “What about you, Shirley,” Geneva asks.  “What’re you doing up here?  Do you have any special powers that we don’t know about?  Like, stuff that’s magic but isn’t really magic?  Are you bullet proof-y?  Or really tall building jump-y?”

            She laughs and shakes her head, making her hair dance.  “No, no, nothing like that.”  She smiles again at Claude.  “I came up here for him.  He’s always been my big hero, but even he can’t do it all on his own.”

            “That’s sweet of you,” Kit says, and Shirley shrugs.

            “We all have something we can do.  This is what I can do.”

            Geneva purses her lips in contemplation.  Then, she looks at her signet again and smiles.  “Know what? I like that.  No point in fussing over what we have or don’t have.  Just do what you can, right?”

            “Exactly,” Shirley says.  “Though, I do have to say, Geneva, you seem a bit young to be a soldier.”

            “Don’t know if I would call it being a soldier,” Geneva says, looking to Kit for help.  Kit just holds her hands and watches.  Geneva sighs.  “You want to hear me talk about this, too, don’t you?”

            “A little.”

            “Ugh.  Well, okay, so,” she pouts.  “This is stupid.”

             “Come on, we’re all interested, and everyone’s been spilling the beans.” Kit squeezes her hand.  “How did you become a knight?”

            Geneva takes a deep breath.  “It was nothing.  There was a monster at the school.  One of those demon, things.  It attacked a teacher—not one of my teachers.  Not that I have teachers, like pets or anything.  And I don’t think I even knew her.  She might have been new.  You know, now that I think about it, how is that for a warm,” she finds everyone staring, “Welcome.”  She swallows.  “Anyway, she was attacked, and I sort of got involved and got the thing to chase me.  Then, Ms. O found me and saved my rear before I got crushed like a grape, and she gave me a ring.  And that is that.”

            “Wow,” Shirley says.  “That was very brave of you.”

            Geneva looks up, blushes.  She waves her free hand.  “No, no, it wasn’t brave.  It was—What else could I do?  Leave her there?”

            “Geneva,” Kit says, staring in open affection and smiling.  She bites her bottom lip and squeezes Geneva’s hand tighter.  “It was super brave.  And kind of hot.”

            Geneva’s blush deepens.  “So, anyway, that is my story.”  To end all conversation, Geneva gulps down her water and then stares out the window.

            Shirley smiles at them and rests her hand on Claude’s knee.  She sips at her tea before asking, “So, how long have you two been dating?”

            “Six months?”  Kit looks at Geneva, who squeaks in response.  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

            “That’s quite a while.”

            “Yeah, we work together.”  Kit smiles at Geneva, who tries to smile back.  She feels more like she is just staring blankly and everyone notices.

            “Well, you two certainly are cute together.”

            “Ice cream,” Geneva says, pulling her hand free from Kit’s.  “I could, uh, really go for some ice cream.”

            Shirley laughs.  “You know, that does sound really good.”  She looks at Claude.  “You want some?”  He shrugs in return, and she stands.  “Well, I do.  And Geneva, we might just be in luck.  There’s an ice cream place just down the street.  We can hoof it over and get some.”

            “Kit?”

            “I’ll be fine here,” Kit says.  “You ladies have your fun.”

            Geneva rounds the table and rushes for the door while Shirley grabs their coats.  “Come on, Shirley, let’s leave the men to scratching themselves and grunting across the table at each other.”

            Shirley laughs again.  “Sometimes, you say the strangest things.”

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            Shirley leads Geneva out into the street, where they are greeted by warm sunlight and cool spring air.  Geneva undoes her jacket and walks with her hands in her pockets.  Shirley wears a long coat that looks almost like a dress on her.  It flows in the breeze, blossoming like a flower.  Geneva is momentarily struck by how pretty Shirley is.

            “So, uh, Shirley, tell me about yourself,” Geneva says.  “That’s what I’m supposed to say, right?”

            Shirley grins, nods.  “I believe it is, but unfortunately, there’s not much to tell.”

            “Oh, come on, you had plenty to say up there about hero-boy.  What, you can’t bring that sort of enthusiasm to your own life?”

            Shirley shrugs.  “I’m an only child, so no family to speak of.”

            “Well, how do you two know each other then?”

            “Claude and I?  We grew up next to each other.  I was always over at his house when I was a kid and, when we grew up, I followed him here.”

            Geneva stares at the sidewalk while they walk, following the cracks with her eyes.  She imagines a little man running their length and jumping between fissure whenever he reaches a dead end.  “Sounds like you’re something of a hero yourself, then.”

            “What?”

            “You gave up everything to follow him here, to help him.  That’s pretty brave, isn’t it?”

            Shirley laughs.  “No, it’s nothing like that.  I’ve just,” she smiles, and the sunlight makes the flush of her cheeks glow.  “I think I’ve always loved him, from the moment I met him.  I’d do anything or him.”

            “That sounds pretty brave, too.”

            “No,” Shirley says, somewhat more insistently.  “Really, it’s not.  Sometimes, I feel a bit selfish, monopolizing him like I do.”

            Geneva looks up, stares into Shirley’s blue eyes and pretty face.  “What? No, that’s not—you’re not—listen, just from my own experience at least, I can tell you, fighting all those monsters and all of that, it’s nice to have a shoulder.”

            “Like Kit is for you?

            Geneva kicks a pebble.  “Sure.”

            They walk to the edge of the sidewalk and stop.  Shirley presses the button to cross and then leans against the stoplight, facing Geneva, and watches the younger girl.  “You know, Geneva, I know we’ve only just met, but you can talk to me, too.  About anything you want.”

            Geneva shifts her weight.  “Come on, you don’t even know me.”

            “Doesn’t mean I can’t get to know you.”  The light changes, and they cross quickly together.  Shirley walks closer to Geneva now.  “You have Claude’s number, right?”  A nod.  “Good.  We share the phone, so just call up and say you want to talk to me.  Call it girl-talk, if you like.  It makes men think of lady-problems, and then suddenly they go deaf.”

            Geneva grins.  “You’re an evil mastermind, aren’t you?”

            Shirley grins in response, knowing yet sweet, and then shrugs.

            The next block is taken in comfortable silence.  They move through herds of people, who amble about the streets, enjoying the warm weather and the fresh air.  Geneva watches the ground, looking up only periodically to keep sight of Shirley, who has her head up and meets the world always, invariable, with a smile.

            Geneva finds herself wondering how this girl came to be so strong.

            They reach another light.  Shirley presses it and waits beside Geneva, bouncing gently with unbridled energy.

            “Hey, Shirley, I just—I wanted to let you know, thanks and stuff for your offer.  I don’t know if I’ll ever call.  I’m, well, I’m not much of a talker, but I do appreciate it.”

            Shirley winks.  “You’re welcome.  And you don’t have to, I just wanted to put it out there.”  She watches the light, waits for a change.  “Growing up with Claude, with his dreams and his destiny, I know the kind of stress you’re under.  And he’s not the kind to want to talk about it, either.”  She looks at Geneva again.  “You two are kind of similar that way.  Maybe that’s why you’re both heroes.”

            Geneva laughs, sudden and deep, eyes wide and waves her arms in disapproval.  “Whoa.  Whoa.  I’m no hero.  I’m just a kid with stick playing dress-up.”

            “Then let’s get you some ice cream, kid.”

            “Sounds good to me.”

            They cross the street and take a right, where they come to a stop in front of the parlor.  It is a small building with a large window and a green-white interior.  A large, red signs in the front door reads ‘closed.’

            Geneva groans.

            “Sorry.  I didn’t think they would be closed.”

            “Not your fault,” Geneva sighs, staring at the sign.  She glares at it.  “You.  We will meet again, and when we do, I’m getting a sundae.  With hot fudge.  Delicious, delicious hot fudge.”

            Shirley laughs again.  “Come on, I’ve got some cookies back at the apartment we can snack on.”

            “That,” Geneva says, looking at her, “sounds perfect.”

 

The Knights of Sheba 115 A…End