A Perfect Gentle Knight Page 7

  “In Calgary we said, ‘They eat your eyes, they eat your nose, they eat the jelly between your toes,’” Meredith told her.

  Juliet glared at them and retreated to the unraked leaves on the grass, diving into them and emerging like a leaf person.

  The chestnuts in the fire of leaves began to pop. “I wish these were the kind of chestnuts you could eat,” complained Corrie. All along the block other people were burning their leaves; a curtain of smoke hung over the street.

  “My parents would never let me make a fire by myself!” said Meredith. “You guys are so lucky your father will let you.”

  Corrie shrugged. “We’ve never asked him. It’s safe as long as you keep the fire on the street. Harry, let Orly have the rake.”

  “It’s my turn!” cried Orly. The two boys tugged until Harry wrenched the rake out of Orly’s hands, making him fall backwards. Orly started crying.

  “You’re such a crybaby,” said Harry.

  Juliet rushed over from her leaf fort. “He is not!”

  “You’re always so mean to me!” sobbed Orly.

  “You are sometimes, Harry,” said Corrie. “It was his turn.”

  Harry wasn’t listening. “There’s Sebastian,” he said, pointing to a bicycle speeding towards them. “Look at his face!”

  Corrie dropped her rake and ran up to the bike. “What happened?”

  Sebastian’s face was smeared with blood. His nose and one eye were swollen and red. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered, crashing down his bike. He rushed into the house and slammed the door.

  “Sebastian, bastard, Sebastian, bastard!” A group of boys on bikes cycled by slowly with jeering cries. They paused at the house, then rode away, calling again over their shoulders.

  Corrie snatched up a hot chestnut and heaved it after them. Then she rubbed her stinging palm and gasped, “How can they treat him like that? Oh, poor, poor Sebastian!”

  Meredith patted Corrie’s shoulder. “You guys stay with the fire until it’s out,” Corrie told everyone.

  She ran up to the third floor and found Sebastian in the bathroom, dabbing at his nose with a wet washcloth. “I hate them!” she cried. She examined Sebastian’s swollen nose and eye. “What happened?”

  “They called me names, so I told them they were scum.… Then they beat me up.”

  “Where?”

  “Behind the bike stands. They dragged me there. But I ran to my bike and got away,” he added proudly. “I think my nose has stopped bleeding.”

  He sat on the edge of the bathtub as Corrie helped him wipe the rest of the blood off his face.

  “You have to do something, Sebastian! You have to tell the principal!”

  “I can’t!” He looked up at her miserably. “You know that, Corrie. They’ll just get worse if I do.”

  “How can they act any worse than they are now! We saw them after you went into the house—they rode by on their bikes and called you names.”

  “Did they hurt you?” asked Sebastian fiercely.

  “No, they kept going.” Corrie held the washcloth against her throbbing palm. “There must be someone we can tell. Fa—”

  “No! I don’t want him to worry about us. I’ll figure this out, Corrie.” His swollen face hardened. “Terry is my arch-enemy—he is Mordred. I’m going to lie down now, okay?” He left the bathroom, and Corrie heard his door close. She went into the hall and heard muffled noises from inside his room.

  A knight never cries. Corrie crouched on the top stair and listened hard, but now his room was silent. She yearned to go into her own room, curl up into a ball, and cry herself, but she had to go out and help Meredith extinguish the fire.

  “I THINK WE SHOULD TELL FA,” she said to Roz that night. Sebastian had stayed in his room all evening; they had told Fa he wasn’t feeling well. Corrie took him some food on a tray, but he didn’t touch it.

  “He would only talk to the principal, and that would make Terry worse.”

  “That’s what Sebastian said,” said Corrie. “What can we do, then?”

  “Well, Seb could get his hair cut—but he won’t. I’m sorry, Corrie. I’d like to help, but this is partly his fault.”

  “It isn’t!”

  They argued for a few minutes, until Corrie flounced out, slamming Roz’s door. Roz was no use at all these days. She seemed to have forgotten that she was Sir Gawain, Sir Lancelot’s closest friend.

  All the next day Corrie wrestled with whether or not she should tell Fa. Meredith wanted her to go shopping with her and her mother, but Corrie went straight home after school. She climbed her favourite cherry tree. It was such a safe refuge; people passed by in the lane and didn’t even know she was there. When she was younger she had named the tree Sentry, because it seemed to guard the yard. She leaned against Sentry’s trunk and her anguish lessened.

  I will tell Fa, she decided. He’s a grown-up—he’ll know what to do.

  At dinner Sebastian’s nose was less red but his eye socket had turned purply-black. Fa’s gruff voice rang out. “Look at your face, my boy! Whatever happened?”

  Sebastian answered calmly. “I fell off my bike. It looks much worse than it feels.”

  “You must be more careful,” Fa told him. Then he turned to his meal. Corrie gazed fondly at him as he concentrated on each morsel of meatloaf as avidly as he concentrated on his books. It would be nice to talk to him all alone; she hadn’t done that for a long time. Perhaps he’d even let her sit on his knee.

  Fa was getting balder, she realized. Then she smiled to herself; the less hair Fa had on his head, the more he seemed to have sprouting out of his ears.

  When everyone else was safely upstairs doing homework or being bathed, she stood in front of Fa’s study, willing herself to knock.

  “What are you doing?”

  Corrie jumped. Sebastian had come up behind her. “Oh, I was just going to talk to Fa.”

  “What about?”

  Corrie flushed. “Well …”

  Sebastian frowned. “You were going to tell him about me, weren’t you?”

  A knight never lies. Corrie had to nod.

  “Even though I asked you not to?”

  “It was for you, Sebastian! It seemed like the right thing to do!”

  Sebastian led her into the den. “I appreciate your concern, Corrie, but it’s all right now.” He told her how Mr. Selwyn, the principal, had taken him into his office and asked Sebastian what had happened to his face. “I told him I’d got into a fight with a guy in my neighbourhood who didn’t go to this school. He was very surprised, of course, because I never fight. He gave me a lecture and let me go.”

  Terry and his gang had seen Sebastian go into the office. They forced him into the boys’ washroom and asked if he’d told. “They looked scared,” said Sebastian with a smile. “I knew I finally had an edge. They told me that if I had told on them they’d beat me up even more. I said I hadn’t, but that I would tell—even if they beat me up—unless they left me alone.”

  “Did they agree?”

  “Yes! Well, for a while anyway, Terry said. He hated giving in, but he had no choice. And they avoided me for the rest of the day.”

  “Touché for you!” cried Corrie.

  Sir Lancelot smiled again. “Yes, Gareth—I have won this round. Mordred will strike back, but for now he is at bay.”

  Corrie went into the kitchen to get an apple. She glanced longingly at Fa’s closed door, but now she had no reason to disturb him.

  FA’S BIRTHDAY WAS the following Friday. Usually they had a special dinner for him. It was always a surprise because Fa never remembered his birthday.

  This year, Sebastian told them he was planning everything himself. “You’ll like it,” he grinned. “Especially you, Juliet and Orly.”

  The twins tried to tickle the secret out of him, but he wouldn’t tell. Corrie watched with relief. Sebastian’s spirits seemed to have healed as well as his face. Now he had only a faint greenish patch under his eye. />
  They always saved Fa’s presents until dinner, since he got up so late. Corrie and Roz had pooled their allowances and bought him a red tartan scarf. Harry had made him a spaceship out of toothpicks, and the twins had coloured a huge picture of a dinosaur.

  When Sebastian got home that afternoon, he told them to meet in the hall just before Fa got home at six. “Don’t be late!” he warned them.

  Corrie wrapped Fa’s present carefully. There was still half an hour to wait. She sat in the kitchen and worked on Mrs. Oliphant’s puzzle. The Elephant was angry when they touched the puzzle, but it was too hard to resist when it sat there all evening. Once, Corrie and Harry had finished the whole thing. They’d undone all the pieces afterwards, but that didn’t mollify her.

  The kitchen didn’t smell of cooking the way it always did at this time of the day. The Elephant had left at five, as usual. Had she forgotten to make dinner? Corrie peeked in the warming oven—it was empty.

  No dinner, and it was Fa’s birthday! She reminded herself that Sebastian had said he would take care of everything.

  “Hurry up, Corrie, it’s almost six!” called Sebastian. She rushed into the hall. “Put on your coats,” Sebastian told them.

  Fa pushed open the door. “Why, hello, my dears!” he said. “What is everyone doing here?”

  “We’re going out!” said Sebastian. “To the circus!”

  “The circus!” They danced around with excitement, and Fa’s round face beamed. He had always loved circuses.

  “But, my boy, how on earth did you get tickets? I would have got them for you myself if I’d known the circus was here.”

  “I won them!” said Sebastian proudly. “There was a raffle at school and I had the winning ticket! The prize was for two people to go. For the rest of the tickets I raked people’s leaves and helped Mr. Hanson down the street clear out his garage. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past two weeks when I told you I had a project at school.”

  “Sebastian, my dear boy—what an incredibly kind and generous thing for you to do! Thank you so much!”

  “The only problem,” said Sebastian sheepishly, “is that I forgot about dinner. I told the Elephant to put it away, because we don’t have time to eat it now. The circus starts at seven, so we have to get the bus right away. Could you all wait until after the circus to eat?”

  “Don’t worry about that, my boy! I’ll buy you all hot dogs or popcorn or anything at all that you want for dinner. And I’ll take us there in a taxi so we won’t be late.”

  “You mean I could have just popcorn for dinner?” Juliet asked.

  “If you like.”

  “Yay!”

  ROZ AND SEBASTIAN had been to the circus before, but the others hadn’t. The evening was a thrilling blur of clowns and performing animals and acrobats. From their high seats they oohed and aahed and clapped and shrieked while they wolfed down hot dogs and popcorn and candy floss. Corrie’s favourites were the trapeze artists; they looked as if they were really flying. Fa was as excited as they were, pointing out details in each colourful, noisy act. Miraculously, no one was sick.

  They got home very late but they stayed up to open Fa’s presents. He thanked them all and repeated to Sebastian, “That was such a thoughtful present, my boy—a present for us all. Thank you again.”

  Sebastian beamed at his family. He was his very best, knightly self tonight, thought Corrie, the way he had often been before he’d started junior high—and before Mum died. If only he could always be this content. If only they all could.

  7

  The Birthday Party

  Sebastian no longer came home beaten up or anxious, so Corrie assumed the bullies were still leaving him alone. He had read a new book about falconry, and the Round Table were all busily making tiny hoods and gauntlets and jesses. They each had an imaginary bird of prey; Corrie called hers Mercury. She and Meredith began to have birds, too. Once in a while each girl would raise her arm in class as if carefully holding a falcon; then they’d exchange secret smiles.

  Meredith had been in tears the morning the newspaper said that a dog called Laika had been sent up into space in a Russian satellite. Corrie couldn’t comfort her. When Mr. Zelmach asked her what was wrong, Meredith told the class the story. “She’s going to die up there! They know that, but they still sent her up! It’s so cruel!”

  Mr. Zelmach asked them if they thought it was right to sacrifice an animal for the sake of science. This resulted in such a fervent discussion that it lasted until recess. No teacher had ever let them miss two whole periods just to talk. After that, the class treated Meredith with more respect.

  MEREDITH WAS NOW completely besotted with the Bells. “Your family is much more interesting than mine,” she said constantly. “You’re so different, like people in a book!” Whenever she came home with Corrie she acted like another sister. She often asked to stay for dinner, but Corrie always discouraged her; she wanted to keep Meredith safely away from Sebastian.

  Meredith loved combing Hamlet or persuading the twins to wash their hands. They adored her. If it was Corrie’s turn to take them home she sometimes took them to Meredith’s house instead.

  Mrs. Cooper delighted in the twins also. She made them “Raggedy Ann” snacks: half a peach, a cottage cheese face, shredded carrots for hair, raisins for eyes, and carrot sticks for arms and legs. She laughed when Juliet started calling her Mrs. Coo-coo. Corrie couldn’t believe how well-behaved the twins were at Meredith’s house. They sat quietly in the Coopers’ rumpus room, watching TV and nibbling on their snacks. When it was time to leave they carried up their plates and said thank you.

  As Corrie and Meredith were walking to the Bells’ house one afternoon, Juliet pranced beside them while Orly ran ahead.

  “Brenda asked me to her birthday party!” she exclaimed. “So did Lynn! Can I get presents for them, Corrie?”

  “Ask Sebastian for some money,” said Corrie.

  Juliet had become very popular. Orly had found one friend in his class—Ian, the only little boy who didn’t run away from him. But Juliet’s toughness and confidence made her the leader of the grade one girls. Every recess Corrie could hear her bossy shrieks to them as she organized their ball-bouncing or skipping.

  “Why can’t I have a birthday party?” Juliet asked.

  Corrie was taken aback. “A birthday party! I don’t know, Juliet. You’ll have to ask Sebastian.” Juliet raced Orly to the corner.

  “When’s their birthday?” asked Meredith.

  “November twenty-third. But they’ve never had a party before. None of us have.”

  Meredith stopped and stared. “None of you have ever had a birthday party? Why not?”

  “Well, we have family ones,” said Corrie. “Just not ones with friends like … like every one else does,” she ended lamely. She had been to lots of birthday parties herself over the years. Not to all of them, of course, but to the ones where mothers insisted on inviting everyone in the class.

  “Why don’t you?” Meredith persisted.

  “My … my mother was always too busy.”

  Meredith looked nervous. “Mum said I wasn’t ever supposed to talk to you about your mother. But do you mind if I ask why she was too busy?”

  Corrie smiled. “I don’t mind if we talk about my mother.” To her amazement, she really wanted to. Her words rushed out of her like a river overflowing a dam.

  “Mum was an artist,” she told Meredith. “She had a babysitter for the twins every afternoon and spent all that time painting in her studio. After school we would run up and see what she’d done. Then she’d stop for the day, but that was when she took us shopping or got dinner ready or …” Corrie’s eyes stung.

  “Or did the stuff my mum does,” said Meredith softly.

  Corrie blinked. “Yes. So she was really, really busy. Also, she thought birthday parties were silly.” Corrie could hear Mum’s musical voice declaring this when Roz had asked for a party. “Roz, my darling, birthday parties are just a
circus for a crowd of children to get wild and sick. We’ll take you out to dinner instead, all right?”

  Corrie had loved the importance of getting dressed up and going out with her family to a fancy restaurant at night. But the older Roz had got, the more she had resented not having normal birthday parties. After Mum died she had organized her own, with Aunt Madge helping. She hadn’t had one since Aunt Madge left, though; the house was too messy, and the housekeepers never liked the idea.

  “I always have my party in September because everyone’s away in the summer,” said Meredith. “I didn’t this year because I didn’t know anyone yet. But next year I will—you’ll be invited, of course. I know—maybe we can have a joint party!”

  Corrie smiled at her. “That would be fun.”

  “Let’s have a party for the twins ourselves!” said Meredith. “We can have balloons and Pin the Tail on the Donkey and a treasure hunt. Mum could make us a cake. We could even have it at our house if you want,” she added with a sideways glance at Corrie.

  “But—”

  Before Corrie could object, Meredith had called Juliet back and asked her if she wanted to have a birthday party.

  Juliet clapped her hands. “Yes! But just for me, not for Orly. He doesn’t care about parties, and I only want girls.” She and Meredith began discussing plans. They continued up in Corrie’s room, making lists of guests and food and games. Corrie finally left them and took a book into the secret cupboard.

  Meredith found her there. “What’s the matter, Corrie? Don’t you want to help us plan the party?”

  “I … I guess so.” Corrie knew she didn’t want to do it. Was it because Meredith had thought of it and she hadn’t? Or because Mum hadn’t approved of birthday parties? Perhaps it was just the change. There was too much of that already this fall. “Let’s talk about the party later,” she told Meredith. “It’s such a sunny day. Do you want to go roller skating?”

  Meredith borrowed Roz’s skates and they started downstairs. “If your mother was an artist, where are her paintings?” Meredith asked.

  Meredith’s never-ending curiosity was wearing. “Some are in the living room but most are still in her studio,” said Corrie.