That was the second time someone had said “A knight, Dominguita.” It didn’t sound quite right. Not for a knight. Dominguita meant “little Sunday.” How many fearsome knights were named after a day of the week?
“Dom,” she said. That would be better.
The old man pursed his lips. “I see, Dom. But you were named after your grandmother.”
“I know,” Dom said. “She said to say ‘hi.’ ”
El Señor Fuentes waited for a long second. “Still, Dom is a strong name for a knight. Dom inspires… respect.”
“Just so.” Dom’s words came out of a corner of her brain. She was sure she’d read them in some knight book.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Any helmets lying around, or breastplates?”
“Hmmm. A helmet is very important.” El Señor Fuentes slipped through the door behind his counter and came back with a small metal pail. “Perhaps this would do. I use it to water my plants.”
Dom placed the little pail on her head. It didn’t have a visor. Or a pointy top. It wasn’t beautiful. Or scary. But the pail had enough room for her pigtails. And it fit. Her head would be safe. The handle would help it stay on.
“Thanks. How ’bout a breastplate? Any ideas?”
El Señor Fuentes took her around the shop.
It was like being at the three bears’ house. Some pieces were too big. Others were too heavy. After a lot of looking, she found a piece that might be just right.
“A pet door!” El Señor Fuentes exclaimed.
Dom tried it on for size. “It fits!”
El Señor Fuentes threaded two leather shoelaces through the screw holes on the pet door. “Voilà. Arm straps! A perfect breastplate for a daring knight.”
Dom grinned. She posed, her arms spreading out the cape.
“I’m the Knight of the Cape—Dom del Capote.”
“A worthy name.”
“Worthy.”
The old man nodded several times, but then he raised the eyebrow over his brown eye. “Why not just Dom Capote? Don Quijote… Dom Capote?”
“YES!” She loved the ring of it.
“Dom Capote, the Knight of the Cape.”
Dom nodded. “Just so.” Saying that now felt right.
She caught her image on a piece of broken glass leaning against the wall. No one would think she was Don Quijote, especially not Ernie Bublassi. But it wasn’t bad, either. And it didn’t matter what she looked like. Her deeds would speak louder than her looks.
She fixed the helmet on her head. She straightened her breastplate. She tugged on her cape to make it sit right on her shoulders, and she asked el Señor Fuentes to take her picture.
“You look most wonderful, Good Knight,” el Señor Fuentes said, handing her phone back.
Dom was about to turn toward the door, but the words stopped her.
“What’s wrong, Dominguita… Dom?”
“Ah, well.” Dom’s voice was not as sure as before. “I… I… I’m not a knight. Not yet. I need someone to knight me!”
El Señor Fuentes scrunched his forehead. He pursed his lips. His blue eye and his brown eye darted back and forth as if trying to find the answer on the counter in front of him. “Yes. You need someone with a sword. That might be hard to find in Mundytown.”
For a few seconds, neither one of them spoke.
“Perhaps you can find a sword tomorrow, you know? For now you can be a knight-in-training. And you can still do knightly deeds.”
“A knight-in-training! Yes! Anything you need? I’m here. Happy to help with a knightly deed,” Dom said.
The junk shop owner shook his head. “Nothing heroic,” he said.
“Anything,” Dom said.
El Señor Fuentes reached for a bag. “Well, you could deliver this to my granddaughter. We live three blocks away. She needs it, and if I take it, I’ll have to close the shop.”
“Happy to do it. Knights are always willing to help.”
El Señor Fuentes’s granddaughter, Leni, was so happy Dom had helped her grandfather that she gave Dom a hug.
She could count the delivery in her knightly deeds even though she wasn’t a knight yet, but it wasn’t good enough for Ernie Bublassi.
Dom walked one more block. Her stomach began to make noises. Maybe it was because she’d walked a lot already this morning, or maybe it was because of the smell that surrounded her.
She followed her nose a short distance to Yuca, Yuca, the best Cuban restaurant in the universe. It was also the only Cuban restaurant in Mundytown, but that was beside the point. The thing was, Cuban food would make her feel closer to Abuela. And that would make her feel good right now.
4 A Squire
Dom and her family visited Yuca, Yuca often. She liked el Señor Prieto, the owner. And she loved his food.
“And what have we here?” el Señor Prieto asked when Dom strutted in.
“I’m a knight-errant, Señor Prieto. I walk around and do good deeds, and I’d like some black beans and plantains.” She said it as if she had a right to say it. A knight would never plead for food, but she decided to add “Please.” Knights should always be polite.
“My pleasure, O wondrous knight.” El Señor Prieto spooned black beans and plantains onto a plate. “Yuca fritters?”
“Please.” It wouldn’t do to turn down a castellan when he was offering a feast.
“Where will you be going?”
“Here and there,” she said through a mouthful of beans. “Looking for adventure. I already helped a lady with her groceries. And I did an errand for el Señor Fuentes.” She decided to keep the book for Abuela and Ernie Bublassi’s dare to herself.
“Ah, adventure.” El Señor Prieto wiped the counter as he talked to Dom. He stopped and scratched his beard. “I suspect you’ll find plenty around here. Just yesterday, I heard there was a damsel in distress. Her foot got caught in a sewer grate.”
“Did she get it out?”
“Yes, she did. But no knight helped her, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Mmm.” Dom held up a finger while she swallowed the plantain in her mouth. She had made a decision on the damsel thing. “Most damsels can take care of themselves. I’m going to rescue anyone who’s in distress. Not just damsels.”
El Señor Prieto nodded. “I understand, of course.”
Dom ate in silence for a few more bites. She reached for another fritter.
“Thank you for providing this feast. Most castellans will do the same… in my travels, that is.”
“Providing a feast? Hmmm. I wonder if other castellans would feed you without asking for… you know… some… compensation?”
“Com-pen-sation?”
“Money,” el Señor Prieto said as if the word hurt his mouth.
“Money?” Dom almost choked on the yuca fritter. Don Quijote had expected to be fed in the castles he visited. Still, el Señor Prieto could be right.
“Many castellans will want to be paid when they feed you,” he said. “A knight should always be prepared.”
Dom thought about it. She had a little bit of money in her piggy bank. Very little. It wouldn’t last the weekend. She needed to earn some money.
“Do you have a job I can do, Señor Prieto?”
“You mean to earn money for food?”
Dom nodded.
“I could use someone to sweep the sidewalk in the morning. In the evening, too.” El Señor Prieto kept thinking. “How about this? If you sweep my sidewalk in the mornings and in the evenings, while you’re on your adventures, I’ll provide your lunch. That should keep you fed during your quest.”
“Just so.” The new knight stepped down from the stool.
“Forgive me for getting in your business, kind knight, but do you have a squire, like Sancho Panza? Someone to keep you company? To carry your saddlebags?”
“Saddlebags?”
El Señor Prieto pulled out a backpack-looking thing from behind the counter. “This will make an ex
cellent saddlebag,” he said. “You can use it to keep an extra shirt. And it will keep your lunch warm. You should also take water. Your squire could carry it. I know just the man.… Pancho,” el Señor Prieto called back toward the kitchen. Then he turned back to Dom. “My nephew will be glad to help you.”
Oh no! Dom was doomed. Pancho Sanchez was the chickenest of the chickens in third grade. If danger ever came, Pancho fell over and played dead like a possum. Or he ran into the bushes and tried to camouflage himself like a chameleon.
Still. A knight couldn’t turn away a kindness, and el Señor Prieto was offering to feed her. Besides, Pancho was big. For a coward, he was pretty smart. And el Señor Prieto was right. She needed someone to carry her saddlebag. It would leave her hands free for her lance. And Pancho could also record her deeds in pictures.
If she really thought about it, Pancho could be a good squire. He knew a lot about animals. Maybe he would be useful if they were attacked by a troop of monkeys, a pride of lions, or a crash of rhinos.
“Hi, Pancho. I’m a knight-errant going on a quest. Wanna come?”
Pancho Sanchez didn’t have anything better to do. Like Dom, he didn’t have many friends. He agreed. Dom Capote sent him home to find some bottles of water and a first aid kit.
While Pancho was gone, Dom Capote swept the sidewalk in front of Yuca, Yuca, and then ran to her own home. She scraped out all the contents of her piggy bank and snatched a couple of T-shirts from the clean-laundry basket.
She tried to tell her brother about what she’d done so far. “What do you think?” she asked him after she finished.
“Great,” he said, but he didn’t take his eyes off his computer.
“Bublassi brothers, remember?”
Rafi nodded. “Yeah, yeah, go get ’em.”
Ugh! Had he forgotten already?
She met Pancho Sanchez on the way back to Yuca, Yuca. They took a selfie together and set off on their quest.
5 A Steed
She was sure a new adventure would come to meet them. Soon. Something worthy of both Abuela and Ernie Bublassi. She didn’t have to worry. After all, aren’t people in need everywhere, all the time? It was still early.
Except today was a bad day for finding adventure. Dom Capote and her trusty squire searched the neighborhood. They cruised by the basketball court on Fifteenth Street. By the fire station on Twelfth. Nothing. Dom was getting desperate. She had to do something knightly and prove Ernie Bublassi wrong. And she had to do it before Monday morning or Ernie Bublassi would have everyone in third grade laughing at her.
At Eighth Street, they found something.
It wasn’t adventure and it came from behind a dumpster.
It was a mangy mutt, his stomach so bowed it almost touched the ground and his ears so long, they did. The mutt greeted them with a toothy smile.
“A steed!” Dom Capote pointed to the dog.
“A dog. A steed is something you can ride. Like a horse. You can’t ride a dog.”
“I don’t have to ride him for him to be my steed. He could carry our saddlebag. And pull a cart if we ever find one.”
Pancho Sanchez gave her a doubting look.
“Go on, let him carry our saddlebag.”
“Huh?”
“The saddlebag!” Dom Capote commanded.
The startled Pancho did as he was told. He fumbled to tie the saddlebag to the mutt’s back. Whatever he did, the pack fell and hit the ground. The water bottles bounced out.
“I’ll carry the saddlebag for now,” Pancho said. He hoisted it back onto his shoulder.
Dom Capote had to agree. “Tomorrow we’ll find a better saddlebag.”
The mutt kept sniffing Pancho’s pack, though. He sniffed and sniffed and nipped at its bottom.
“What do you have in there?”
Pancho looked sadder than if he’d lost his best friend. “Ham biscuits,” he mumbled. “The ones my uncle sent.”
“Share one with our trusty steed. That will make him want to go on the adventure with us.”
Pancho handed the dog one of the ham biscuits. It was easy to tell what a bad idea he thought this was. How Dom was acting way more than crazy. How he wished they still had four biscuits instead of three.
“See,” Dom Capote said. “He’s totally grateful. Now he’ll follow us forever.”
It was true. The mutt’s toothy grin was back. His tail wagged. With his belly still dangerously close to the ground, he followed Dom Capote and her squire.
“We’ll call him Rocinante, like Don Quijote’s horse.”
“Roci-what?” Pancho asked. He flung the saddlebag on his shoulder again.
“Roh-see-NAN-teh! Roh-see-NAN-teh! Don’t you remember?”
“Well, yeah. I remember it was something like that. But that’s a really hard name.” Pancho scrunched his forehead and made like he was calling the mutt. “Here, Roh-see-NAN-teh! Roh-see-NAN-teh!” He shook his head. “It will never work.”
“Mmm.”
“Why don’t we call him Roco?”
“Roco.” Dom did the sign of the cross over the dog. “I name you Roco.”
Roco didn’t seem to mind. The knight, her squire, and her steed walked on.
6 A Rescue That Was Not So Daring
“I hope our new steed will turn our luck.” Dom Capote sighed. “We really need to find an adventure so my brother can write about it.”
Pancho stopped. He dropped the saddlebag.
Dom stopped next to him. “What?”
“What’d you just say?”
“My brother. My brother. He’s going to write a book about me.” She decided she’d better be honest with Pancho, since he was her squire. “Ernie Bublassi said girls can’t be knights, and I’m going to prove him wrong. But I need to have some adventures first.”
At the mention of Ernie Bublassi, Pancho straightened up. He looked at Dom as if this were the first time he’d seen her. “Is that why you’re taking all the pictures?”
Dom nodded with importance.
“I’m in.” Pancho started walking again. Not just walking. Strutting. Like he was really going somewhere.
Perhaps it was fate, or perhaps it was Roco, but in three more blocks the steed found adventure.
“Grrr!” He pounced on a bush.
A cat scurried out, with something in her mouth.
Roco, Dom, and Pancho chased it.
They cornered the cat against a wall.
“EEK! A bunny!”
Dom couldn’t argue with that. A bunny dangled from the cat’s mouth as if it were a kitten.
“You have to save it!” Pancho screamed.
“Me? You’re the squire!”
“No, no, the knight always rescues whoever’s in distress.”
There was no way for Dom to argue with that, either. Besides, Pancho was lying on the grass curled up like a baby, shaking.
“Dom Capote to the rescue!” Dom roared. She pounced on the cat and wrapped it in her cape.
“You’re mine now, you scoundrel!”
Dom had the cat, but she needed help to rescue the poor little bunny.
“Pancho Sanchez!”
“Ye-e-e-s, Dom?”
“Stop playing dead. I need your help.”
Pancho got up and slowly headed toward the huddle of dog, Dom, cape, and cat as if he’d been called to the principal’s office at school.
“Hold the cat!”
Pancho did as he was told. Through the cape.
Dom lifted a corner to find the petrified cat with the shivering bunny still in its mouth.
“Hmmm.” Dom lifted her eyes to Pancho. “And what do I do now?”
“Open its mouth.”
“You know all about animals. Why don’t you?” But Dom already knew the answer.
Careful, careful, she told herself. She gripped the cat’s top jaw with her left hand. Shaking, she pulled the bottom jaw open with her right. The bunny dropped. With one swift move, Dom caught it before it touched the ground.<
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Pancho let go of both the cape and cat. “Scram!”
The no-longer-petrified cat ran.
The bunny wiggled its soft pink ears. It winked at them. It was alive!
“You did it!” Pancho snapped pictures and jumped up and down.
Dom tried to look humble. That’s what knights were supposed to do. Rescue whoever needed rescuing, right? Still, she was pleased. And she was tickled pink that Pancho took pictures without being asked.
Pancho turned the bunny ’round and ’round to see if it was hurt. “Poor baby! Look at that scratch! Let’s take it to the shelter.”
“Great idea, Pancho Sanchez, Squire!”
“We have to find the other bunnies. What if the cat comes back to the nest again?”
“You think? That cat will never want to tangle with the likes of us again! I’m sure we have nothing to worry about.”
“Tell you what…” Pancho rummaged in the saddlebag. “Here’s some stuff my mom uses when we get hurt. Let’s spread it on those scratches after we clean them out. I’ll put the bunny in my pocket and we’ll find the others. We’ll take them all to the shelter.”
Dom had to admit that was a good idea. And she had been right; Pancho could take care of animals.
With the little bundle of fur in Pancho’s pocket, Dom took the next step. She pointed. “Roco! Find the bunnies.”
Roco did.
Close by, under a root, in a hollow in the dirt. Five more bunnies.
“I’ll take three, you take the other two,” said Dom.
“Let’s leave them,” said Pancho.
“You said we should take them to the shelter!”
Pancho pointed. The mother rabbit hid behind the bush, watching them.
“They’ll be better off with their mother,” he whispered.
“Why don’t we take them all?”
“Why don’t we leave them where they belong.” Pancho took the bunny out of his pocket and slipped it into the nest.
“But the cat!”
“Didn’t you say the cat would never want to tangle with the likes of us again?”
Dom thought. She nodded. “Just so.”
They tiptoed away, looking back at the nest every few steps.
Knight of the Cape Page 2
