Chapter 4
Garrick
I need to get to Knight School, but I have a pit stop to make first. ‘You’re the best, dude – seriously.’ I slap Tyrone on the back as he hands me the package.
‘We can call it even, if you put in a good word with Layla for me.’ Even behind his dark sunglasses I know he’s sneaking a peek at the popcorn stand a few paces away from us in the Village Center.
He’s been crushing on Layla, who runs the stand, since last summer and, despite my pestering, hasn’t plucked up the nerve to ask her out.
‘Consider it done.’ I rip open the bag and yank out the Christmas ornament I had custom-made.
I run my gloved fingers over the edge of the gold frame. Inside, sits a picture of my whole family from Christmas seven years ago, before Mom got sick. The familiar ache is there in my heart, but I still smile when I see us all together.
‘C’mon.’ I drag Tyrone from his gawking and toward the Christmas tree. ‘I need you to play lookout.’
This is opening weekend for the Christmas season, and it’s been hectic, to put it lightly. All of us Fairytalers – that’s what we call FTG staff – have been earning our wages today.
In the first hour, the Christmas tree lost three ornaments after a bird flew into it.
They fell off the branches and nearly hit Aldrich in the head as he did his carriage ride.
Then, when they turned on Ice Shards, we blew a fuse and lost power to the Royal Fare restaurant just as they were getting Santa’s meet-and-greet breakfast ready.
I managed to cover and say the elves were doing repairs for the upcoming big night.
Still, I thought Dad would pop a blood vessel by the look of his face, which turned brighter than Rudolph’s nose.
They outdid themselves with the decorations around the park.
I don’t know where they found the massive tree to put in the center, but it’s absolutely incredible.
I might try to convince Dad to let us open our presents under it on Christmas.
It’s filled with a whole bunch of custom ornaments depicting different moments in FTG history.
But it needs one final touch.
There’s not a back side I can sneak to and tuck this picture in, but dressed in my oversized coat, no one knows who I am right now – so I won’t draw my usual crowd.
Tyrone stands in front of me, and I duck under the branches and over the small barrier to keep out the guests.
I nestle the ornament into a limb where it’s sure to stay put, no matter the weather.
No one will be able to see it, but knowing Mom’s here makes me smile.
‘All right,’ I say when I climb out. ‘Places to be, damsels to save. Karaoke later?’ I shout as I’m running away.
He gives me a thumbs up.
‘You’re late,’ Ivor says when I skid into the backstage of Knight School. I hear the eagerly waiting kids just outside the curtain.
I fling my coat at his head. ‘Santa emergency.’ He grumbles as I slip my sword back into my sheath. ‘From now on,’ I say, trying to distract him, ‘I think I’m only gonna work in the winter. Not having sweaty leather stuck to my skin is much more pleasurable.’
The sun has melted most of the frost off the stage, but a glistening water shine is left. I’ll have to be quick on my feet, so I don’t faceplant.
I run a hand down the smooth leather of my jacket, tightening the straps around the sleeves.
I sometimes wear the whole shining metal suit typical of knights – usually when I do meet-and-greets.
But most of the time I wear leathers and linen undershirts.
It’s much easier to perform my sword skills that way.
I didn’t think opening for the holiday season would be all that different. But as I move without the possibility of stripping off a few layers of skin from the leather adhesion, I got to say, this is much better.
‘You’re preaching to the choir, G.’ Ivor is my older brother by six years.
Ever since he married James and had my nephew, Bradley, it’s been all about retirement funds and mortgage interest rates.
But at least when we’re in the park he drops the adult worries and acts like one of the boys again.
‘Also, if this gets us the sales boost, I’m sure it’ll be a regular thing. ’
Since graduating high school, Ivor has moved into a role with more responsibility.
He runs Guest Relations and Experiences – while still playing a prince.
So, it makes sense that he’s got more to worry about than if his sword is shined or his stage make-up is too cakey.
I help around the kitchen, but no one’s making me fill out budgetary reports or sales projections.
Or whatever it is Ivor’s complaining about.
‘Kendrick, Kendrick,’ kids chant out front.
I cup a hand behind my ear, cracking my signature grin. ‘Hear that, Ivor? My adoring fans await.’
My whole family has FTG alter egos that correspond to characters in Carpathia.
Carpathia is the fictional land Fairytale Gardens is based on.
King Osgar (Dad) and Queen Isobel (Mom) ruled the kingdom of Carpathia peacefully.
But one day, a terrible blight from the nearby lands attacked the kingdom.
Lots of townsfolk died. Crops failed. All the horrible things you find in fairytale stories meant to set the scene for a heroic final act.
The king had three sons: Prince Thornton (Ivor), the oldest; the middle son and the bravest, Prince Winthrop (Tristian – not really sure how he landed the starring role when I was available, but I’m glad because my part is the best one); and Prince Eadwulf (Aldrich), the youngest.
The King sent Winthrop and Sir Kendrick the Kind (that’s me – guess I look more like a knight in shining armor than Prince Charming) to fight a devastating plague.
The prince defeated the blight with the help of a fairy, Princess Arden (that’s the role Imogen slipped into last summer), from a neighboring forest. They fell in love, saved the day and everyone lived happily ever after.
I had that story memorized before I knew how to read. It’s part of my DNA now.
My body hums with the anticipation of going on stage. It’s only been a few months since the park closed after the summer season, but I’ve missed being able to perform – being the center of attention is always a nice bonus.
‘Did Dad say you could play Santa?’ Ivor asks me as I grab a candy cane from the bag to hand to the kids after the class ends.
It’s not really a ‘class’, but we let the kids swing wooden swords around and hit each other for twenty minutes while the parents take videos, and we attempt to teach them a few moves.
‘No one claimed the suit, so I figured I’d give Santa a youthful upgrade. I don’t think the guests will mind.’
I’m used to Sir Kendrick’s meet-and-greets. But dang, being Saint Nick is a whole different experience. I get the heart-eyed teens who want a knight to sweep them off their feet, but based on my first meet this morning, Santa gets all the dirt on who’s been naughty and nice.
‘Just don’t screw it up, OK? You have to take it seriously. We need this.’
Ivor’s words touch a sensitive nerve deep under my skin. It’s not a secret in our family that I’m the screw-up. Screw-up might not be the right word; I just don’t care. What’s the point, I say? It’s easier to skate by. Still, I nod. ‘You can count on me,’ I say as we slip into our alter egos.
As usual, I’m all in when I step out to meet the rambunctious kids.
They make me forget about everything else for twenty minutes.
This is the feeling I wanted to replicate with my fencing camp.
Except there, I could actually teach them the real thing.
Who knows, I might train the next Olympic gold medalist – or not, since it’s never going to happen.
The kids are supposed to be twelve and under, but today there’s a white girl my age with dark hair and pink fluffy earmuffs.
I’m surprised because there’s an age limit for participating.
It’s a legal thing, so no one gets too injured.
I know this from experience because Tristian and I have had more than enough scrapes and splinters.
‘Welcome, future knights,’ Ivor says to the waiting crowd. Crowd might be a generous term. There’s only a dozen and a half kids – plus the mystery girl. We split the group into pairs so they can spar. And, working my magic, I make sure the girl and I are left together.
‘Looks like you’re stuck with me.’ I flash my signature grin again.
I’m not sure if it’s the knight’s smile or mine.
By this point, we’ve blended into the same person.
Even before I was allowed to play Kendrick in the park, I pretended to be him, waiting for the day I would get my chance.
I guess I don’t really know who I am without it.
‘Just how I planned it.’ She smiles, but it’s forced, her shoulders tensed and cheeks flushed.
‘You wanted to spar with me?’ I hand her a wooden sword from the rack and take one for myself. ‘I do love a lady with initiative.’ I twist the hilt in my hand, my fidgeting put to good use.
All I receive in return for my witty quip is a roll of her deep-blue eyes. Those eyes, coupled with her raven-black hair, nudge at nostalgia in my brain – a memory that I can’t yet place. It’s not that I know her – trust me, I’d recall if I did – but she feels familiar somehow.
‘Did you want me to show you a few moves?’ I ask.
‘I’m a quick learner. I’m sure I can keep up.’ Her hair is pulled into a no-nonsense bun, but a few strands have managed to escape and frame her face.
I’m working all my charmer moves, but she doesn’t budge. For a girl who sought me out, she doesn’t seem to be in the mood to flirt.
So, guess that means I need to try harder.