The Camelot Code

by Mari Mancusi

  “Once he comes back, why not tell him how you feel?” Guinevere suggested. “After all, what have you got to lose?”

  “Um, how about our entire friendship?” Sophie reminded her, a panicky feeling welling up inside of her. “I mean, what if he doesn't feel the same way about me? What if I tell him what I'm feeling and it ruins our friendship altogether?” She turned to the princess, the tears flowing down her cheeks, unchecked. “I can't bear to lose him, Guin. He means the world to me.”

  “Believe me, I know what you mean,” Guinevere said with a sigh. “More than you know.”

  Chapter 38

  After a bleary night of little sleep, Sophie dragged herself into school the next day, still haunted by the nightmares that had chased her until dawn. Horrible visions of Morgan Le Fay tracking Stu down and unleashing her fury upon him—with Sophie powerless to stop her. Instead, she was forced to watch, paralyzed and helpless, as her best friend—and so much more—crumbled to the ground before her, consumed by Morgan's flames. She'd woken up screaming her mother's name. As if Mom could somehow hear her and come to her aid.

  But her mother was long gone. Sophie was on her own. And it was up to her to save the world. To save Stu before it was too late.

  She somehow made her way to history class, plopping down at the nearest desk. To make her morning even better, the teacher announced a pop quiz, walking up and down the aisles, handing out the papers.

  “You with us this morning, Miss Sawyer?” the teacher asked, stopping in front of her desk. “Or are you planning to spend A period napping?”

  Sophie shook her head, feeling her cheeks burn as her classmates giggled. “I'm fine,” she replied, taking the test from the teacher. At least it would probably be easy. This was her best class, after all. She was sure whatever was on the quiz would be a cakewalk.

  1) What year did the Saxons conquer England?

  a) 1167 AD

  b) 1200 AD

  c) 1312 AD

  . . . or not.

  Sophie looked up from the quiz, scanning the room. Sure enough, everyone else was busy circling and writing in answers, as if nothing were amiss. Even though Sophie knew for a fact that the Saxons never conquered England. Namely because King Arthur had defeated them during his reign.

  Uh-oh.

  2) Name the Saxon emperor who married British High Queen Morgan Le Fay.

  Oh, no. This was not good. Saxon Emperor? Queen Morgan Le Fay? History had changed once again and this time it went way beyond pepperoni pizza and high school social standing.

  3) What was the real name of the imposter king who disappeared three days after his crowning and ended up being burnt at the stake for treason?

  a) Lancelot

  b) Gawain

  c) Stuart

  Sophie almost fell out of her chair. Oh no! No, no, no! It couldn't be. Her breath caught in her throat as she peered over at the test taker next to her, praying she was somehow mistaken. But no, he was circling “C”—his number two pencil effectively sentencing Stu to a painful, medieval style death.

  “Eyes on your own paper,” the teacher reprimanded, looking at her over his horn-rimmed glasses. As if cheating weren't the last thing on her mind at a time like this. Her stomach lurched. She had to get out of here and figure out what had gone wrong. Raising a hand, she asked, “Can I go to the nurse? I think I'm going to puke.”

  It wasn't far from the truth.

  The teacher sighed, but gestured to the hall pass sitting on his desk. “You'll have to make up the quiz tomorrow,” he told her as Sophie rose from her seat, grabbed the pass, and forced her feet to walk out of the classroom.

  Tomorrow. There might not be a tomorrow the way things were shaping up. At least not a tomorrow that would resemble today.

  History could spiral onto an alternative track. One where your future may no longer exist. Meaning you may no longer exist.

  Once outside the classroom, she broke out into a run, racing to the school library. After signing up with the librarian, she plopped down at a terminal and pulled up Google. Hands shaking, she typed “King Arthur” into the search box and held her breath.

  KING ARTHUR: The name given by imposter Stu Mallory, who attempted to steal the throne from Queen Morgan Le Fay after pulling the sword from the stone. Three days after his coronation, the day before he was supposed to lead Britain to victory over the Saxons, he disappeared. The battle was a massacre and eventually led to the Saxons taking over England. The imposter king was soon found and burned at the stake.

  Sophie leaned back in her chair, hardly able to breathe. Something had gone wrong. Really, really wrong. And it had led to a disaster of epic proportion. Not to mention the end of her friend's life. Stu would never come back home. They'd never finish playing Camelot's Honor. Never go to the Snowflake Dance.

  And she'd never get a chance to tell him how she really felt.

  Her mind treated her to a vision of poor Stu, all alone, being strapped to a stake. The flames licking at his feet and the smoke choking the breath from his lungs as Morgan watched from above, cackling in victory. Sophie wondered if he'd had any final thoughts about her during those last moments he spent on earth, then rebuked herself for thinking it. He probably thought of her, all right. He probably blamed her for the whole thing.

  And, in a way, he wouldn't be wrong.

  She scanned the website again, trying to figure out a plan. Though this event had technically already happened in her time, there might still be a chance to stop it from happening in Stu's. The battle against the Saxons happened three days after Stu's coronation. Which would be tomorrow! Her pulse quickened. Maybe there was still time to make things right.

  “Sophie, are you all right?”

  She whirled around at the sound of the voice, surprised to see Arthur standing behind her, shuffling from foot to foot, without his little posse protecting him for once.

  “You!” she cried, anger surging through her. She leapt from her seat and grabbed him by his collar, shaking him with all her might. “This is all your fault!”

  “Quiet!” the librarian scolded from behind her desk. But Sophie was through being quiet. She was going to knock some sense into this little once-and-future twerp's head if it was the last thing she did. She had one more chance to save Stu and she wasn't about to blow it.

  Arthur looked at her guiltily. “What?” he asked.

  “What? What? Do you have any idea what you've done?” Sophie asked, her voice breaking at the question. “What your little field trip here has cost the world?” She grabbed him by the ear and dragged him over to the computer. “Read this,” she commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument.

  Arthur scanned the webpage. “But that isn't right,” he murmured, looking confused.

  “No, it's not right. It's not right at all. But it's happening all the same. All because you decided you wanted to play football instead of becoming king.”

  Arthur stared at the computer, a dismayed look on his face. “The Saxons slaughtered everyone,” he read. “Women, children. The few who survived were forced into slavery or left to starve.” He swallowed hard. “I wonder if Sarah and her children escaped.”

  “Guess you'll never know,” Sophie replied, his voice laced with sarcasm. “But hey—at least you guys will be a shoe-in for the championships. If there's any world left to play in, that is, after this all shakes out.”

  “But I didn't mean . . . I mean, I thought . . . what about Stu?” Arthur blurted out. “He was supposed to take my place. I figured he'd do a better job than me,” he added, looking crestfallen. “Seeing how terribly I've handled everything so far. To be honest, I'm not sure I'm even cut out to be king. I think Merlin might have made a mistake.”

  She stared at him in surprise, realization hitting her with the force of ten-ton truck. Suddenly she knew exactly why Arthur had refused to go home. Not because he was having fun here. Not because he was afraid for his life. (Though both those things might be true.) But deep down insid
e, she realized, he was simply afraid of failing. Of letting everyone down when he couldn't achieve what he was being asked to do.

  She thought of the Arthur she'd met back in medieval times. Abused by his foster brother, the butt of every knight's joke. All his life he'd been told he was nothing. Of course he'd be riddled with doubt.

  “You underestimate yourself,” she said at last, realizing it was time for a good old-fashioned twenty-first-century pep talk. “And I understand that—all your life people treated you as a nobody. But look at what you've done here—in only a few days. You became a hero, fighting for the poor goth kid who was being bullied. You proved yourself a born leader—rallying the football team to search for Stu. And you showed your skill for battle, bringing your team to victory on the football field.” She smiled at him. “In just a few days you got everyone to love you, honor you, respect you. Trust me, that's not easy in high school.” She laughed. “When you believe in yourself, Arthur, you're unstoppable. So why not take all that you've accomplished here and bring it back home? Your people don't need a replacement King Arthur. They need the real deal.”

  Arthur's eyes shone as she spoke. But then he faltered. “But you forget, I do fail at home,” he reminded her. “The Google says I die, killed on the battlefield after all my knights turn against me.”

  “Yes, well, we all die,” Sophie reminded him staunchly. “But what matters is how we live. Do you want to be remembered as Britain's most legendary king, sung throughout history for being one of the most noble men on Earth? Or would you rather die in obscurity, reminiscing about your glory days of high school football?”

  She paused, holding her breath, praying she hadn't gone too far. For a moment, Arthur was silent, thinking hard. Then he squared his jaw and straightened his shoulders, his face taking on a determined expression that made Sophie's heart soar with excitement. Now this was the King Arthur of legends!

  “You're right,” he declared, so loudly he earned another shush from the librarian. “I've spent far too long running away. It's time I go home and make things right.” He glanced at the computer screen. “I'm not too late, am I?”

  “I'm not sure,” Sophie admitted, not wanting him to change his mind, but needing to be honest all the same. “Merlin told me that our two time periods run on parallel tracks. Meaning the big battle against the Saxons—the one that will change history, depending on whether we win or lose—will be fought tomorrow morning. So if we get back there now and you lead your troops to victory—well, there may still be time to set things right.”

  Chapter 39

  Arthur dove through the halls, man on a mission. Now that he'd made up his mind to go home, he knew there was no time to waste. According to Sophie, right now the tribal lords were assembling, waiting for his guidance for the upcoming fight against the Saxons. The entire history of the world depended on him making this meeting on time.

  But he couldn't go without Guinevere.

  He stopped short at the cafeteria, scanning the early lunch crowd, his eyes resting on the princess, sitting alone at a far table, staring down at her hands, looking forlorn. His heart leapt. There she was. The most beautiful, wonderful, sweetest girl in all the land. He knew he'd never love anyone like he loved her. He just prayed she'd forgive him for all he'd said.

  “Guinevere!” he cried over the din of the cafeteria, pushing through throngs of students, ignoring their protests as he made his way to his princess. She looked up at his voice, her crystal blue eyes alighting as she recognized him.

  “Arthur!” she cried. “I've been looking everywhere for you!”

  “And I for you,” he admitted, his heart practically bursting from his chest at her words. She'd been looking for him! That meant he wasn't too late. He still had a chance to say he was sorry for being such a coward. To tell her he still wanted her as his wife and that he was ready to go home once and for all. “Look, Guin,” he said, sitting down beside her and grabbing her hand in his. A bold move, he knew, but he found he couldn't help it. He had to feel her. Know that she was real. That she was really his. “We have to talk.”

  “Yes . . . ?” she asked, her trembling voice threaded with a shred of hope.

  “Please forgive me,” he said. “I've been a fool. I've been selfish and a coward, running away from my destiny. But you were right. And I'm done running.”

  She swallowed hard. “What are you saying?” she whispered.

  “I'm saying it's time to go home,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “It's time for me to take the throne and become king of England.”

  She stared at him for a moment, searching his face, as if looking for some kind of trick. But then she allowed herself a smile. A huge smile that lit up the entire cafeteria. Suddenly there was no one around but her. “Oh, Arthur!” she cried.

  He put a finger to her lips. He had to get everything out before they left. So when they returned they could start anew. “I'm so sorry for ever doubting you,” he said, reaching out to brush a wisp of blond hair from her eyes. “I trust you with my life. I know you would never betray me—with my best friend or anyone else. No matter what the history books say.” He paused, then added, “I love you, Guinevere. I love you more than life itself.”

  And then, trembling, he leaned forward, closing his eyes and tilting his head, ready to kiss his princess for the very first time. His lips brushed hers slowly, sweetly, and then—

  Beep, beep!

  Startled, they broke apart, interrupted by an entire cafeteria full of beeping. Arthur scanned the room, confused, as all the students around them reached for their cell phones.

  “What's going on?” Guinevere asked, looking around.

  Arthur shrugged. He knew only a little about cell phones from what he'd learned from Lucas and the rest. They were designed to deliver messages and photos and sometimes video to others. He watched as the students stared down at their phones, laughing and jeering in delight. Whatever message they had been sent was evidently highly entertaining.

  Then, one by one, their eyes lifted from their phones . . .

  . . . turning straight to him and Guinevere.

  Arthur's heart started pounding, though he had no idea why. What was going on here? Was the cell phone message directed to him? Were they laughing at his expense? It seemed impossible, but he couldn't think of another explanation.

  “Arthur?” Guinevere cried, looking a little frightened. “What's going on here?”

  Arthur rose to his feet, grabbed a phone from a nearby student, ignoring his protests. He pressed a button and a moment later the video started playing on the small screen. Guinevere peered over his shoulder, then gasped loudly, falling away.

  Arthur dropped the phone and it hit the ground with a loud clatter. But the video kept playing, as if mocking him from the floor. A video of his beautiful, beloved princess Guinevere—the girl he'd just kissed for the very first time . . .

  . . . kissing his best friend, Lucas, instead.

  It was a knife to the gut. He staggered backwards, his world spinning out of control. Lucas and Guinevere? Guinevere and Lucas? It couldn't be!

  He somehow managed to turn to the princess, his whole body shaking so hard he was amazed he was still standing upright. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words refused to come.

  “After all you said,” he managed to squeak out at last. “After all you promised.” His voice cracked and he couldn't continue. His entire life flashed before his eyes as the other students in the cafeteria watched in amusement, as if waiting to see what he'd do. His humiliation could not be more public if he'd sent out an e-vite beforehand.

  “Arthur—” Guinevere tried, tears rolling down her cheeks. “It's not what you think!”

  “Did you kiss my best friend?” he demanded. “Did you betray me like the Google said you would?”

  She hung her head, her silence all the answer he needed.

  “I've got to go,” he managed to say, trying desperately to keep his composure in front of the other stud
ents. He pushed past her, fleeing the cafeteria, the laughter and jeers burning his ears—all the while the dreadful video replaying in his brain, over and over, on eternal loop.

  Lucas kissing Guinevere. Guinevere kissing Lucas.

  Sophie was right; evidently you couldn't run from your destiny.

  Chapter 40

  Guinevere had no idea how she managed to keep her dignity as she walked slowly toward the cafeteria exit, feeling the stares of the other students burning into her backside. It was all she could do not to break into a run—tears streaming down her cheeks. But she was a princess, she reminded herself. And she had to find a way to rise above somehow.

  But though she kept her head held high, ignoring the laughter and jeers as she headed through the crowd toward the exit, inside she was crumbling, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. They'd been so close—Arthur had wanted to go home and make things right at last. He'd wanted to marry her and work with her to save the kingdom. Everything they'd ever talked about—every dream they'd ever had—was this close to coming true. And then the video had come and ruined it all.

  If only the video had played a few seconds longer—showing her breaking from the kiss and telling Lucas it was a mistake. That she loved Arthur and would never betray him. But no. Whoever had taken the video obviously wanted Arthur to believe she was every bit as wicked as the Google had said she was. And now everything was ruined.

  She wondered what Arthur would do. Would he still return home to England? She hoped so—the kingdom did not deserve to be punished for her mistakes. She thought of Sara and her new baby and her little son, Thom. If her moment of weakness had hurt them, well, she'd never be able to forgive herself.

  As she wandered down the hall, she came across a small chapel, doors wide open but completely empty. She found herself drawn inside, sinking down into one of the pews, head bowed. When reading her story online, she'd discovered that after the whole thing with Lancelot had been made public, she'd ended up joining a nunnery, swearing off boys for the rest of her life. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea after all. Surely they'd brought her nothing but trouble so far.