out toward him, but he twisted just a little before her hand made contact. She drew it back and looked at him. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
His shoulders sagged. “Okay.” Francine and Wallace beamed. He shoved his hands in his pockets, managing a smile, and followed them across the campground to the far south edge of Knightsvalley, near the foot of the mountains. Dingus sent a longing glance back in the direction of his own campsite. He’d much rather be there, pretending to sleep, than headed toward the sulky glow of the not-quite-yet bonfire that stood out of the dusk.
Dingus hung back a little, only half listening to the two others chatting in front of him. Even before they got to the fire, there was a crowd of kids all around, drinking cider and small beer, but everyone seemed a little bit subdued, not what Dingus would’ve expected from so many kids all together. He wished he hadn’t eaten so much at supper. His stomach twisted and churned, even worse than it had last night when he’d seen all the Knights who had come to camp in the valley. When they passed Kessa, he gave her a small wave—he hadn’t seen her since morning. When they passed Arkady, he made sure to look away.
Everyone clumped together in little knots, talking quietly, and his hopes of finding a shado w to stand in died. He tried to keep his head low as they approached the fire and the barrels of drink. It seemed as though everyone they passed was talking about Muscoda; it took less than two minutes to get up by a circle of logs by the fire, and he must’ve heard “Muscoda” fifteen times from fifteen different mouths.
“I thought this would distract me,” Francine muttered. “Everybody’s so miserable. I can’t stand to think about it anymore. Maybe you had the right idea with the studying, Dingus.”
“Aye,” Wallace said. “Nobody’s seen us yet, mayhap we can leave.”
“Let’s,” Dingus said.
Francine sighed. “You guys go ahead. I see Gemma, I’d better go over.”
“If you stay, we’ll not go,” Wallace said, “right, Dingus?”
“Uh, right.” He didn’t feel like arguing, and besides, he didn’t want to be a jerk, since Francine was actually pretty okay.
“Thanks, you guys.” She went around the circle of logs, mostly occupied by people about their a ge, and put her hand on a blond girl’s shoulder. The girl lifted a blotchy face and immediately scooted over for Francine to sit. Francine’s butt barely touched the log before the other girl glommed on to her.
“Lost her boyfriend, she did,” Wallace said quietly.
Suddenly, Dingus didn’t feel so itchy about being a stranger. Better that, than hurting the way they all were. “Well, most everybody must’ve lost somebody. It was a lot of people.”
“Aye,” Wallace said. “Look there, it’s my friend. Let’s sit. Tony!”
“I met him before,” Dingus said, when the boy with the shaved head from Elwin’s Ford turned around and waved. The firelight glanced off the boy’s head; Dingus could swear he’d polished it for the occasion, it was that shiny, and he was all dressed up in bottle-green breeches and jerkin, a loose, blazing yellow tunic, and crimson boots.
Tony slid over on the log when they got there. “Hey, Wallace.” The two of them clasped wrists. Wallace sat, and Tony looked over his head at Dingus. “Hey, man, you look better.”
“Heh. I hope so, that was last year.”
“Who’s that?” a girl with a mass of curly hair and about a gross of bangles asked from the next log, the tone of her voice saying she didn’t really care, and in fact would prefer it if Dingus went away.
“Dingus,” Tony said, when Dingus’s mouth dried out in horror. “He’s Vandis’s guy. Remember, Francine, from Elwin’s Ford last summer?”
“I remember ,” said Francine, and the blond girl, who’d mostly sniffled herself out, looked at him.
“I remember you, too. You were all beat up though.”
“Yeah,” Dingus admitted. He
His shoulders sagged. “Okay.” Francine and Wallace beamed. He shoved his hands in his pockets, managing a smile, and followed them across the campground to the far south edge of Knightsvalley, near the foot of the mountains. Dingus sent a longing glance back in the direction of his own campsite. He’d much rather be there, pretending to sleep, than headed toward the sulky glow of the not-quite-yet bonfire that stood out of the dusk.
Dingus hung back a little, only half listening to the two others chatting in front of him. Even before they got to the fire, there was a crowd of kids all around, drinking cider and small beer, but everyone seemed a little bit subdued, not what Dingus would’ve expected from so many kids all together. He wished he hadn’t eaten so much at supper. His stomach twisted and churned, even worse than it had last night when he’d seen all the Knights who had come to camp in the valley. When they passed Kessa, he gave her a small wave—he hadn’t seen her since morning. When they passed Arkady, he made sure to look away.
Everyone clumped together in little knots, talking quietly, and his hopes of finding a shado w to stand in died. He tried to keep his head low as they approached the fire and the barrels of drink. It seemed as though everyone they passed was talking about Muscoda; it took less than two minutes to get up by a circle of logs by the fire, and he must’ve heard “Muscoda” fifteen times from fifteen different mouths.
“I thought this would distract me,” Francine muttered. “Everybody’s so miserable. I can’t stand to think about it anymore. Maybe you had the right idea with the studying, Dingus.”
“Aye,” Wallace said. “Nobody’s seen us yet, mayhap we can leave.”
“Let’s,” Dingus said.
Francine sighed. “You guys go ahead. I see Gemma, I’d better go over.”
“If you stay, we’ll not go,” Wallace said, “right, Dingus?”
“Uh, right.” He didn’t feel like arguing, and besides, he didn’t want to be a jerk, since Francine was actually pretty okay.
“Thanks, you guys.” She went around the circle of logs, mostly occupied by people about their a ge, and put her hand on a blond girl’s shoulder. The girl lifted a blotchy face and immediately scooted over for Francine to sit. Francine’s butt barely touched the log before the other girl glommed on to her.
“Lost her boyfriend, she did,” Wallace said quietly.
Suddenly, Dingus didn’t feel so itchy about being a stranger. Better that, than hurting the way they all were. “Well, most everybody must’ve lost somebody. It was a lot of people.”
“Aye,” Wallace said. “Look there, it’s my friend. Let’s sit. Tony!”
“I met him before,” Dingus said, when the boy with the shaved head from Elwin’s Ford turned around and waved. The firelight glanced off the boy’s head; Dingus could swear he’d polished it for the occasion, it was that shiny, and he was all dressed up in bottle-green breeches and jerkin, a loose, blazing yellow tunic, and crimson boots.
Tony slid over on the log when they got there. “Hey, Wallace.” The two of them clasped wrists. Wallace sat, and Tony looked over his head at Dingus. “Hey, man, you look better.”
“Heh. I hope so, that was last year.”
“Who’s that?” a girl with a mass of curly hair and about a gross of bangles asked from the next log, the tone of her voice saying she didn’t really care, and in fact would prefer it if Dingus went away.
“Dingus,” Tony said, when Dingus’s mouth dried out in horror. “He’s Vandis’s guy. Remember, Francine, from Elwin’s Ford last summer?”
“I remember ,” said Francine, and the blond girl, who’d mostly sniffled herself out, looked at him.
“I remember you, too. You were all beat up though.”
“Yeah,” Dingus admitted. He
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