Sword Play

by Linda Joy Singleton

  As I laid in bed that night, tossing aside my covers and unable to sleep, I took scraps of facts like quilt fragments and pieced them together. Brianne had gone to the prom with Tony, but she wasn’t serious about him. In fact, she’d hinted there was another jock she liked. Was it Kip? She liked a challenge, and what was more challenging than going after a hot guy who already had a girlfriend?

  Aileen and Kip left the dance early, but if the newspaper account was true, there was over two hours of unaccounted time. I flashed on the image of rose petals and red silky ribbon. Ripped, crushed, lifeless.

  How had petals from Brianne’s corsage ended up in Kip’s car? What had happened between the time Kip dropped Aileen off and the accident?

  Brianne would know. I fell asleep with a heavy heart and a sense of dread for what I had to do.

  *

  The next morning a strange car drove up to the house and a uniformed guy got out carrying a square silver-wrapped package.

  “Delivery for Ms. Sabine Rose,” he said, smiling cheerfully when I answered the door.

  “I’m Sabine,” I said with surprise

  “Sign here, please?”

  Curious, I signed then fished into my pocket and gave him a tip. The foil wrapped present was smooth to touch as I held it gently in my hands.

  Who could it be from? I wondered, setting it on the living room couch. It’s not my birthday and too early for Christmas. The wrapping was professional quality, with a glittery gold bow and curling silver-gold blended ribbon.

  Untying the ribbon and slicing open the tape with my thumbnail, I ripped off the wrapping. Inside the box I found a ceramic night-light in the shape of a large brown dog. Only close friends knew about my night-light collection. Intrigued, I dug around in the box until I found a small silver card and read:

  Sabine,

  Hope you like this night-light. Doesn’t it remind you of Horse? Think of me when you use it. I wish I could see you this weekend, but Arturo needs me. I miss you.

  Love, 8Josh

  Arturo needs me! I thought, tempted to fling the box across the room.

  I wasn’t fooled for one moment. This wasn’t a gift; it was a bribe. Josh’s way of saying, “Here’s a pretty trinket so you won’t be angry that I’m ditching you again.” What kind of an idiot did Josh take me for? If he really missed me, he’d show up.

  “Damn him!” I fumed, closing the lid on the box and tossing it aside.

  Another romantic weekend was ruined. We wouldn’t have a chance to reconnect and act like the happy couple we were supposed to be. He loved me! He missed me! Well he had a terrible way of showing it. I’d been trying so hard to figure out my feelings for him, to banish all thoughts of Dominic and create a perfect relationship with Josh, but I couldn’t do it alone.

  Why were Arturo’s needs more important than mine? You’d think Amazing Arturo had real powers of magic, instead of stage tricks. He’d turned my reliable, sweet boyfriend into an irresponsible jerk.

  I was tempted to call Josh and let him know exactly what I thought of his precious Arturo. But if I complained, I’d only come off pathetic and whiny. And I didn’t want to be one of those needy girls who hung on their boyfriends like a noose.

  “I don’t need any guy to define me,” I told myself as I picked up the gift and carried it into my bedroom. “I have plenty of friends and even a job with a boss who respects me.”

  Impulsively I picked up the phone and called Mr. Landreth. He literally whooped for joy when I told him I’d changed my mind, that I would be happy to replace Annika after all.

  “Take that, Josh,” I said, stabbing the air with the phone as if it were a sword and I’d just skewered my so-not devoted boyfriend.

  Then I ripped his card into confetti.

  *

  Josh didn’t call. And I refused to care.

  I burned up phone lines talking to Penny-Love, Manny, Thorn, and Vin. My ear was still ringing from Vin’s excitement when I told him I was temporarily returning to Foils. He was sure I’d want to stay permanently and suggested I replace Annika. “I’m sorry about her aunt, but truth is she’s not half as good as you. She only got in the group ’cause she was dating Derrick.”

  “Annika and Derrick? I didn’t know they were together.”

  “They aren’t any more,” Vin explained. “It only lasted a few weeks and they’re just friends now. Annika is back with some guy from her last school, and Derrick is looking. You know how relationships revolve in Foils.” He went on about his own sadly lacking love life then segued into news about people I’d used to know when I went to Arcadia High. I enjoyed listening and curled into an oversized pillow on my bed, glancing over at a dresser with fencing trophies.

  The next day, I woke up with serious second thoughts.

  Performing with Foils again? What had I been thinking?

  Call it stage fright or a reality check, but I felt a rush of panic and wished I’d never agreed to fill in for Annika. I hadn’t even practiced with them. My skills were rusty and I wasn’t even sure my uniform fit. It probably smelled musty too, locked away in a bottom drawer for half a year. I had to call Mr. Landreth right away and tell him I couldn’t go through with the exhibition.

  Maybe I would have.

  But I’ll never know because after I got dressed and was brushing my hair, there was a commotion from downstairs, knocking, and then a thump of footsteps.

  Then I heard someone call my name, so I went out in the hall and saw—

  “Ohmygod!” I squealed, not quite believing my eyes. “Thorn! Manny!”

  My Goth friend arched the silver stud in her brow and combed her black-pearl polished fingernails through her plastic-looking black-and-mauve wig. Beside her, Manny’s black dreads were beaded like rattling snakes and wiggled around his dark, grinning face. He wrapped me in a warm hug.

  “Looking good, Sabine. Surprised to see us?”

  “Thrilled. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m wondering that, too,” Thorn said in a dry tone. I could tell she was glad to see me, but she would rather die than show emotion. She wore a pleated black skirt that trailed in an uneven hem along the carpet and black lace over a hot pink T-shirt with metal chains.

  “So what’s for breakfast?” Manny asked with a glance toward the kitchen. “We left at an ungodly hour to get here and haven’t eaten. How about eggs benedict with whipped creamed waffles?”

  “I wish!” I chuckled, feeling ridiculously happy. Having them here was like having a piece of my other life back, making me ache even more to move back to Sheridan Valley.

  Over plain toast and cereal, I learned it was Thorn’s idea to drive here for the Renaissance Fair.

  “Not to see me?” I asked teasingly.

  “That too.” She shrugged. “I go to these fairs with my friends a lot to check out reproductions of swords and chains.”

  “Weapons don’t interest me, but I like all the ye old English talk and costumes, especially the fair wenches in tight-laced bodices,” Manny added with a wicked grin.

  Thorn smacked him on the arm, but he didn’t notice.

  Having them with me eased my nervousness and gave me a boost of confidence. When I told them I would be performing with Foils, they were impressed and promised to clap louder than any other spectators.

  We climbed in Thorn’s yellow jeep. I wore jeans and a sweatshirt, carrying my equipment bag and planning to switch into my Foils costume later. After parking about a mile away, we walked along a narrow dirt path to the fair and were passing through the entrance where festive flags and banners snapped in a brisk breeze. Up ahead, I caught a flash of a silver fencing shirt with the Foils emblem. For a moment I thought it was Brianne and this would be my chance to talk to her. But the girl was taller, with reddish hair, and I recognized Jennae.

  “Mr. L. told me you didn’t want to come today,” she said, studying me with an odd expression.

  “That’s true,” I admitted. “I’ve been away for so long, and don
’t want to embarrass the group.”

  “You could never do that, you’re too good a fencer.” The way she said “too good” didn’t sound like a compliment, but more of a complaint.

  “Well, thanks. I love fencing.”

  “So much that you’d do anything to get back in the group?” she accused. “Even if it meant kicking someone else off the team?”

  The hostility in her voice shocked me. “What are you getting at?”

  “Vin was going around saying you were going to take Annika’s place.”

  “He what?”

  “Sure she’s not that good yet, but she’s really trying. She almost didn’t go to her aunt’s funeral because she was afraid she’d lose her place in the group.”

  So that’s why Jennae had been acting weird toward me—she was protecting her friend. I assured her that I would never take Annika’s place. This caused a huge change in her attitude towards me, and she burst into a smile, then wrapped her arms around me in a warm hug.

  “I knew you wouldn’t do anything so mean!” she exclaimed, then she hurried off to meet some friends.

  My friends were waiting, too, and I rejoined them.

  Manny spotted a kissing booth with ample-chested wenches in low-cut dresses, and he was off. Thorn groaned while I just laughed.

  The Renaissance Fair was held partly outdoors in a grassy park with shady oaks and pines, and also included vendors hawking their goods in a large building. Manny wore a smile on his lipstick-smeared mouth as Thorn dragged us through aisles. The theme from Titanic played in a lilting flute melody as we went up and down rows of booths. There were vendors selling stone and crystal jewelry, Celtic and Scottish books, porcelain tea sets, Welsh recipes, Heraldry (history of family crests), decorative wands, airbrush tattoos, and ribbon wreaths that many of the girls wore like halos atop their flowing hair. I stopped to admire the hair wreaths, thinking these might be a cute gift for my sisters, but Thorn dragged me over to a display of weapons.

  “Wicked swords!” Manny exclaimed, reaching up to touch a Scottish Basket Hilt Claymore. “But check out the price—$235! For that it better be the real thing.”

  “If it was real, you’d have to add a few zeros,” Thorn retorted.

  Instead of sticking out with her dramatic Goth look, Thorn fit in. Chains, black clothes, and wigs were the norm at this fair. She moved slowly down the aisle, studying each of the upright weapons with a rapt expression.

  I didn’t know much about historical weapons and found it fascinating. There were Victorian-styled swords, an English Civil War Basket Sword, a sword with a skull grinning from the hilt, a four-bladed ax, and an awesome sword called “Witch King” that cost over $300.

  There were more reasonably priced weapons, and after much deliberation, Thorn decided on a small curved dagger with a dragon’s body and gleaming red glass eyes for only $40. Manny bought a rope necklace with a bulky green stone. And I went back to the booth to buy a pink wreath for Ashley and a blue one for Amy. Impulsively, I purchased a lavender one for myself.

  While all of this was fun, I had obligations, too. So we made a stop by the archery area where I dropped off my equipment bag and checked the schedule for the Foils performance. Not until two o’clock. That left plenty of time to see the fair.

  We watched minstrels perform, a fire-breathing demonstration, jugglers, and an archery contest. White canvas tents covered outdoor booths and strolling performers in authentic clothes had loud discussions in Old English. It was surreal and loads of fun.

  For lunch we ate meat pies, “ale” (lemonade) from a pewter mug, and fresh scones with strawberry cream. Manny even tasted haggis, which sounded worse than it looked.

  A woman walked by carrying a tiny poodle wearing a cloth unicorn horn wrapped around its head. Manny joked that it was a new breed of dog. “A Uni-oodle.”

  “A poodle-corn,” Thorn suggested.

  “How about uni-poo?” I added.

  Manny wrinkled his nose. “Sounds like something you don’t want to step in.”

  Thorn groaned and rolled her kohl-painted eyes.

  A herald came around, blowing a horn and announcing a joust. We all agreed this sounded cool, so went over to the arena and climbed up to the top of the bleachers for a good view of the show. A large man with a plumed hat and layers of period clothing stood on a pedestal and bellowed into a microphone, “Ladies and Gentleman, are we ready to see a joust?”

  The bleachers rocked with foot stomping and shouts of “Aye!”

  Belgium and draft horses draped in elaborate blankets and wearing suits of armor galloped onto the grassy field. The favorite jouster seemed to be a rider nicknamed “Sir Shiny Guy” and the crowd roared with applause as he waved.

  The announcer explained the point system: one point for touch, three points for a broken tip, and four for a shattered tip. “The horses weigh approximately 1500 pounds and carry about 300 pounds of men and armor. And at impact they’re moving at twenty-five miles per hour,” the announcer added. “These knights put their health and lives on the line for your entertainment.”

  The crowd stomped and cheered and shouted, “We want blood!”

  Thorn was joining in this bloody chant while Manny was staring at a shapely woman selling refreshments in such a tight bodice that if her laces popped, someone could get hurt.

  My gaze drifted around the audience, a rowdy bunch of spectators in jeans and Tshirts mixed with others in medieval costumes. One little girl was dressed with fairy wings, an entire family wore royal velvet and crowns, while a costumed dragon posed for pictures.

  There was a squawk and I glanced down near the bottom of the bleachers. A large reddish brown bird fluttered to perch on the arm of a guy in a brown period cap, leather breeches, shiny boots, and a loose-sleeved linen tunic. The guy turned, tipping his cap and staring directly at me.

  I covered my gasp.

  It was Dominic.

  I’m not sure what I said, but I was up and pushing my way through crowded bleachers. A chubby man wearing a green frog hat and holding a foaming beer blocked my way, and I had to climb down into the next row, cut over to an aisle, then hurry down the steps. Behind me I heard Manny’s voice, but I ignored it. I’d explain later—after I caught up with Dominic.

  What was he doing here anyway? His clothes were those of a Renaissance peasant, and for all I knew he might be a regular at Renaissance Fairs. Or was he here to see me? This thought made my heart jump, and I realized that I was happy to see him. More than happy—I wanted to be with him. How was that possible? Was I on the rebound? Maybe because Josh stood me up twice and our only contact lately was on the phone or email. I was starting to forget what it was like to be together.

  But it was more than that. I didn’t really care that Josh wasn’t here, not the way I found myself caring about Dominic, wanting to know if he felt anything for me. Maybe it was time to find out …

  The announcer was shouting something about showing support for the jousters, and suddenly everyone in the bleachers stood up and chanted, “Knock him off! Knock him off!” I was swallowed in a sea of shouts and bodies, and by the time everyone sat down, Dominic was nowhere in sight.

  Frustrated but not defeated, I left the arena and continued my search. The smart thing would have been to go back and ask Thorn, who had a psychic talent for finding things (and occasionally people), to help. But this didn’t occur to me until I was far from the arena and near a recreated village of canvas tents. But it was eerie and silent, empty of people since everyone was still cheering on the jousters. I walked to the remote Games of Sport area that was enclosed by a wooden rail fence, arranged with piles of haystacks and a display of historical weaponry; arrows, swords, knives, and staffs. Nearby a tent for changing clothes and stowing equipment billowed as a breeze sailed through the partly open flap. Inside, I saw a silver flash of movement.

  The flap opened and out stepped Brianne.

  She wore her Foils uniform and carried a cloth bag. When she noti
ced me, she dropped the bag, and it fell silently to the soft, grassy ground.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “I was looking for a friend … but I found you instead.”

  Her cheeks flamed and as she caught the implication of my words. She looked around the way a wild animal does when it’s trapped. “I—I have things to do, so if you’ll excuse me,” she said.

  “No,” I spoke firmly. “I won’t excuse you because what you did was horrible, and don’t you dare walk away.”

  “You can’t make me talk to you,” she snapped.

  “Would you rather I talk to the police?”

  Her skin blanched and a look of fear flickered in her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  But she did know, and I wasn’t letting her off so easily. I’m not sure why it was so important to me to find out what really happened the night Kip died, maybe because Brianne made it personal. Our friendship had died that night, too.

  “I don’t think you want anyone overhearing this,” I told her in a low, determined tone. “Let’s go inside the tent.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, then looked closely at me. Her shoulders sagged, and she nodded, then followed me. I pushed aside the tent flaps and sat on a plastic chair beside Brianne. Being together like this in a private place made me think of all the sleepovers and wonderful secrets we shared in my tree house. This would be the last secret I ever asked of Brianne.

  “You were with Kip the night he died,” I accused, my voice flat and without question.

  “Did you see that in a vision?” she asked sarcastically. “Or was it your spirit guide who told you? How is old Opal these days?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I just want to know exactly what happened.” And how you could abandon our friendship, I almost added.

  “I’m not telling you anything.”

  “You’d rather I go straight to the police? They’d be interested to know you’re a witness to Kip’s death.”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “I will unless you talk.” I folded my arms. “Now.”