Suzanne LaFleur - Eight Keys

Why My Life Really Stinks

The trouble all started right before the first day of sixth grade, the last time Franklin and I played Knights.

Knights works like this: we get our swords, we head out to the woods, and we go on chivalrous missions to battle ghost knights.

Uncle Hugh made our wooden swords when we were six, which is when we came up with the game. Franklins mom wasnt happy about him making us weapons, but Uncle Hugh assured her that the worst that could happen was we would get splintersand thats only happened a couple times.

We never really battle each other.

Or at least, we never had before.

Franklin met me in the woods with his purple bicycle helmet on. Some days he wears his helmet when we play. Its weird, but I dont say anything about it. Its not like it matters, anyway.

Franklin almost always begins the game. He did that day, too.

Kneel before me, he announced in his deepest voice. I knelt and bowed my head. Your quest shall be to find the missing cast of King Alberto.

I think its a cask, I interrupted in a regular voice, looking up. With a k.

Im not sure, Franklin admitted, also in his regular voice. Then he whispered, as if it were a secret from the game, What is that, anyway?

I dont know.

Franklin shrugged, put his serious face back on, and continued in his deep voice. You are to find the missing cask-t of King Alberto. Rise, Sir Knight, and go forth upon your quest.

He tapped my shoulders lightly with his sword. I stood and knocked his sword with mine, which was his signal to go forth upon the same quest.

We took off, slowly at first, until Franklin yelled, Ghost knight, behind you! I stopped to battle the phantom who aimed to ruin our quest. Franklin let out another scream and ran past me to battle a few more ghosts.

My ghost killed by decapitation, I paused for a minute to watch Franklin. He looked funny, swinging his sword and yelling at things that werent really there. I had never thought about what we looked like playing. Was it a silly thing to do, really?

An abandoned cardboard box lay close by.

I summoned my deepest voice.

Halt, human! I yelled. Halt!

Franklin stopped, breathing hard. Yes Good Knight?

Good Lady, I corrected in my deep voice.

Huh? he asked, in his regular voice.

I am a lady knight, I said.

There are no lady knights, he said.

Of course there are. I am a lady ghost knight, possessing the body of the knight you thought you knew. And I have found your sacred casket, and it belongs to me. I set my foot on the cardboard box like an explorer stepping off his ship onto new land. You have no choice but to fight me.

Franklin thought for only a second before falling back into the game.

You shall never have our sacred casket, demon! And I shall free my fellow knight from your possession!

He dove at me, sword outstretched, and I met his sword with my own. There was no neat clash of metal, just a dull thunk of wood smacking wood. We both hit hard. After a few strong hits, which sent Franklin darting backward, I turned and ran, scooping up the cardboard boxthe cast or cask or casket or whatever-it-was nowlooking back to swipe at Franklin every few feet. He was putting up a good fight. This was definitely one of the best games of Knights we had ever played.

But when youre playing Knights in the woods, you have to be careful of these things all at once: where you swing your sword, that you dont drop your treasure, and that you look where youre going.

Its not hard to guess which one I forgot.

We came to a stretch of the woods where the path ran above a steep hill. I twisted to take another hit at Franklin, but my front foot slipped, and I fell.

After the world had stopped tumbling, I heard Elise, Elise, Elise, Elise!Franklin hurrying after me through all the rocks and leaves and vines and shrubs and prickers that lined the hill.

Next time, Franklin panted, when hed caught up with me where I was lying curled up in a ball, you should wear kneepads. Kneepads and shin guards.

The front of my legs, from my knees to my ankles, ended up covered in bloody streaks. Aunt Bessie made me sit for her to clean all the cuts, but they dried in yucky scabs all over me for my first day at my new middle school. Aunt Bessie and Uncle Hugh both vetoed the long jeans I was wearing to hide my wounds.

Its too darn hot for that sort of silliness! Youll pass out! declared Uncle Hugh.

The material will rub against those cuts and open them right up, insisted Aunt Bessie.

I sat on the edge of the bathtub in my shorts with a box of Band-Aidsplain ones, thank goodnessand stuck them all over my legs. When I had a crisscross of at least twenty peach bandages over my tan legs, I realized that trying to hide the scabs was even worse that just letting them show. I rested my head on my knees and then let out a huge Grrr! of frustration.

Elise! The bus will be coming. Aunt Bessie peeked around the door. Do you want us to walk you?

No, I said. As I walked out the front door, some of the Band-Aids drooped off my legs, not sticking on one side. I grabbed one to yank it off, but the other side was tightly glued to the hairs on my leg. Ow! I yelled as it ripped off. I added Bye! before leaving Uncle Hugh and Aunt Bessie standing on the porch, looking kind of worried.

When I made it to the bus stop, the usual kids from our grade were there: Franklin plus Sam, Ben, Stewart, and Diana. I had never really gotten to know the other boys, and what I knew about Diana was that she wore funny cat sweaters. Because it was hot, she was in a cat T-shirt. Pink, with a black-and-white cat patched on in other materials.

Hi, she said.

Hi, I answered.

I went to camp all summer and there was no electricity and no real toilets.

Sounds awesome, I said, not sure if that was awesome. Talking with Diana always made me feel uncomfortable. She was so weird.