Children of the Knight - Michael J. Bowler (best books to read non fiction .txt) 📗
- Author: Michael J. Bowler
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“Well, I know for sure I’m toast,” Jack affirmed stoically. “You heard what he said about faggots.”
Lance looked over sharply, anger welling at the humiliating way Jack had been treated. “Don’t use that word! You’re Jack, and you’re good. Screw him!”
Jack smiled sadly. “Don’t worry about it, Lance. I’m used to being called names.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be!”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. He will kill me, Lance, I know that. You might have a shot, though.”
Lance snorted in disgust. “For what? To work for that scumbag? I’d rather die first!” He paused and met Jack’s eyes.
Jack smiled back appreciatively.
Sudden awkwardness overwhelmed Lance, and he couldn’t meet his friend’s gaze, couldn’t look at Jack’s handsome, battered face, or into those sad and fatalistic brown eyes. He fought the lump in his throat.
“What’s the matter?” Jack asked uncertainly, fisting his tunic to quell his shaking hands.
Lance looked up shyly, hesitantly, his heart suddenly uneven. “Well, we both probably won’t make it and, well, I been thinking a lot about, well, I been kind a wondering if… well, about what you said before, about the things we don’t say to each other?” He fell silent, eyes downcast.
“Hey, badass boy, this is your best friend over here. Spit it out.”
Lance looked him right in the eye. “Can I kiss you, Jack?”
Jack blanched, his face displaying guilt and hope and shock, all at the same time. “What?”
Lance’s chest constricted, and his cheeks burned. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid, I know. It’s just that, well, Reyna kissed me one time, and I know I liked it, but, well, I’d just really like to kiss you, too. I know I sound crazy!”
Jack’s face took on an expression of understanding, and he reached out to gently grasp Lance’s tremulous hand. “No, you don’t, but you’re not gonna die here, Lance. I’m gonna make sure of that.”
“I just have a bad feeling, you know, and I been wondering what it….” He trailed off again, lowering his head in disgrace.
“What it would feel like to kiss another boy?”
Lance lifted his heartrending eyes. “No, Jacky. I been wondering what it would feel like to kiss… you.”
Jack’s eyes went wide with staggering comprehension, and the blood drained from his face.
Lance saw that look of betrayal in Jack’s eyes. Betrayal of Mark.
“Never mind, it’s stupid. Just forget I said anything. God, I’m such a pathetic loser!”
He pulled his hand back and looked away. He wished he could just disappear into the floor.
Jack paused, his hands shaking as he recalled Mark’s words to him in that letter: “You two would be good for each other….” Mark had given him permission. Had Mark somehow sensed the effect Lance would have on him? Could he even have seen Jack’s love for him, but believed Lance more worthy of it?
Since the moment Jack had accepted that he wasn’t bi, that he would never be attracted to the girls who hovered around him like bees to pollen, he knew he didn’t want to be a player and treat boys like so many guys on the football team treated those girls. He was lonely, and his parents’ indifference toward him only reinforced his pervasive sense of unworthiness. But even then, at fourteen, he knew he wanted someone to love who would love him back, someone amazing and special and one of a kind.
Someone like… Lance.
Jack turned his body and reached out to cup trembling hands around his friend’s soft, smooth face. “You are so not a loser, Lance. Oh my God, no.” He hesitated then. His breath seemed to waver uncertainly on his lips. “But you know I… there’s still Mark.”
“I know. I just wanted to, you know, see what it felt like. With you.”
Jack leaned in before Lance could say another word and pressed his lips gently to those of the younger boy.
Lance closed his eyes, and kissed him back.
Jack felt such an overwhelming rush of excitement alight his every nerve ending that he thought he might pass out, and then he pulled back, eyeing Lance with uncertainty.
“Well?”
Lance looked confused. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how it made me feel.” He dropped his gaze.
Jack’s rush of excitement troubled, and thrilled him. That simple kiss was more powerful than any he’d ever experienced, even his first.
“You want my advice?”
Lance nodded eagerly.
“Wait till you fall for someone, and then it’ll be the Fourth of July.”
“Thanks, Jacky.”
“I promise you, Lance, whatever happens to me, I will save you.”
Lance grinned. “Not if I save you first.”
That broke the awkward tension, and Jack laughed. “Deal.”
They settled back against the wall, and Lance eyed on the toilet across the room. “You know, Jack, I been thinking. They might take us with them when they go to do, you know, whatever. You heard R.—he might need us for negotiations or something.”
“So? What can we do?”
“We need to arm ourselves.”
“With what? They took our dirks, our phones, everything.”
“Yeah, but I just got an idea.” Lance nodded toward the toilet.
Jack studied the toilet, and then turned back to Lance with a quizzical look on his face.
Lance grinned.
The teams had all reported in from their checkpoints. None had noted unusual activity at any of the houses, and every team was poised to begin the assault. Arthur’s was the last to depart. Heading up his team was Justin, who appeared confident and powerful in his helm, mail shirt, and breastplate. He carried his sword and shield with dignity and pride.
The remainder of Arthur’s team carried smoke bombs in their backpacks, along with some of the nets Arthur had procured that morning. Lavern led a small contingent of expert archers to act as perimeter cover in case of attack.
Within the dry riverbed, Arthur sat atop Llamrei, with Chris in front and Jenny behind, gazing out upon his knights. They shuffled restlessly, anxious to be underway.
“My noble knights,” Arthur called out to them, “this night we march forth into history. Ours is the most dangerous quest of all, for we seek to destroy the man who controls so much of these drugs. Be on your guard at all times, my knights. I have faith in you all. We go forth under the banner of right, so let us take a moment to ask God for protection this night.”
He bowed his head in silence, as did every child with him. Then he raised his head, held Excalibur high above him, and called out, “It begins!”
A cheer went up from the group, and they clambered lithely up the riverbank and piled into the enormous SUV Justin had brought. He’d actually asked his mother for permission to borrow it this time. At first she’d said no, but when he explained it was for Arthur, she relented.
However, Justin knew she never would have agreed had she known their true destination, for Arthur’s target this night was the supply warehouse of Mr. R. and Mr. L.
Mr. R. and Mr. L. had made good use of their time while Lance and Jack cooled their heels in the tiny bathroom. Mr. R. had contacted all his main “drops” in the city so they would be prepared for an attack.
Arthur’s foolish followers will get a rude awakening when they attempt to take my houses.
“Is Santiago in place?” Mr. L. inquired.
Mr. R. nodded. All the pieces were in play to finish this uprising once and for all.
“Why not just call this Arthur on the kid’s phone, tell him you have the kid, and lure him in. Easy take down. No chance of a mistake.”
Mr. R. sniggered. “Mr. L., you’re an outstanding businessman, but very poor at public relations. This man has become a media darling, an entertainment for the people. He’s like the ultimate reality show. And like any good reality show—of which there are none, by the way—we must give the viewers a slam- bang finale. When this man dies, it must be in full view of everyone, especially those stupid kids of his. The entire so-called crusade will end tonight.”
Mr. R. knew he was a hothead at times, but his flair for the theatrical was often quite useful.
“Have your men load the fagboys into the limo. I want them to have a front-row seat.”
Mr. L grinned and left the office.
Mr. R. pulled Lance’s phone from his desk drawer and slipped it into his jacket pocket before rising from his desk and following after his partner.
Chapter 13:
It Be Your Choice
Arthur’s team leaders had all been chosen to strike at drug labs within their own neighborhoods. That way, each leader knew the lay of the land, the easy escape routes, and the best ways to attack each house. Of course, the kids all knew this was a token gesture. They would only be destroying one lab in each neighborhood—one out of dozens—but it would send a clear message to all who wished to deal drugs—the Round Table will seek you out and destroy you.
Esteban led his team back to Boyle Heights to the most notorious crack house in his neighborhood. It was one-story and old, like most houses in the ’hood, but especially ugly with its hideous pink paint job. It sat conveniently on a corner for easy access to buyers and sellers who could come and go without attracting undue attention. There was a three-foot-high metal fence surrounding the front, and Esteban knew there were two back buildings behind the main house where the drugs were produced and stored.
Eyeing the place in the fading sunlight as a knight of the Round Table, rather than as a gang member who used to slang for these people, Esteban realized that it looked like an ordinary house. Unless you knew what went on in there, you’d never guess.
Reyna crouched by his side, bow and arrow cocked and ready. They had hidden themselves and their team in the backyard of an empty house just across the street, observing their target for any signs of movement while awaiting Arthur’s signal.
Esteban glanced over at Reyna and shook his head as though once again forcing himself to believe all this was real. A fine-ass rich girl into him? Never saw that one coming. And this whole knights and Camelot business? Who would’ve thought a bad kid like him could ever do anything that seemed so good?
He eyed the crack house, so innocent looking, yet so deadly and so much a part of his youth. How many kids like Mark had OD’d or gotten hopelessly hooked on dope because of him, because he’d gotten them started? A lot, he figured. And for what? So he could have fancy-ass shoes and other swag?
Before Arthur, before all their neighborhood clean-ups had revitalized the city, including his own barrio, Esteban would’ve said swag and girls and money were all that life was about. He thought he’d had power. But this, what they were doing tonight, this was power—the power to change things for real.
He found his gaze returning to Reyna. She looked so taut, so amped, so ready for action.
Man, what a turn-on.
She caught him staring, but he didn’t care. She puckered and kissed air in his direction, drawing a smile to his face. He felt his phone vibrate and slipped it from his pocket. The text was from Arthur.
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