23
The festival

In the mornings, Sam still awoke before it was light. Go back to sleep, he told himself, yawning. The castle was finished, after all. He closed his eyes, but there was one more thing he might do for Caroline, even if she never knew it.

He nudged Night Cat lightly with his foot. The cat climbed over him and jumped off the bed to wait at the bedroom door.

Sam went downstairs into the kitchen and shredded a little leftover chicken for the cat, and took a roll for himself.

He still thought of Caroline. If only he could tell her the whole story.

In front of the castle, he plugged in the small cutters, listening to their buzz, and cut a rectangle into the front of the castle over the curved doors. Enough glass was left for one more window.

He smoothed the edges of the opening, fit the glass into it, and framed it by gluing on small pieces of wood. He stepped back.

The medieval lady was visible now; she stood in the tangerine room, looking out. Making friends with the world instead of hiding, he told Caroline in his mind.

He stood there, looking at the castle, satisfied. It could go upstairs now, maybe with the little boat on his dresser.

Mack was at the door. “Isn't today the school party?”

Pease porridge hot. Trenchers. Cloves and cinnamon.

“The medieval feast.” Sam shrugged.

“I'll drive you in the truck, Sam. You won't be able to carry—”

“The castle? I'm not going to bring it.”

“But why?”

Sam shook his head. He'd really made the castle for Caroline and for himself.

Mack glanced at the castle. “I always thought it was a shame that Boldt never finished his castle, that for years it just crumbled away.”

“It isn't like that. I finished it, all of it.”

Mack touched the small green book on the corner of the table. “Caroline wrote it down about building it. Didn't she? And shouldn't everyone know about that?”

Mack went to the door, tapping on the frame. “I'm going to scramble some eggs, not as good as Onji's, but still—” He reached out. “Take the castle to school today, Sam. You'll be glad afterward.”

How could Sam say no to Mack? He ripped out the back pages of the notebook, the section that belonged just to him, and took them up to his bedroom.

After breakfast they left for school a little late because it had taken so long to wrap the castle and put it in the back of the truck.

“Want me to come inside?” Mack asked as they unloaded it at the side door, but Sam shook his head. Without thinking, he reached out to hug Mack. He carried the castle down the hall alone, maneuvering his way around kids who were carrying cans of water for plants, kids who quick-stepped instead of running, because Mr. Ramon might be lurking around the stairs.

In the classroom, Sam put the castle, still covered, on the table under the window. The room was noisier than usual. Five kids were getting ready to do their play, and Eric marched back and forth with his sword and a paper helmet that made Sam laugh. In the corner, Marcy practiced her oral report, her lips moving, her arms waving.

Stacked on the table were the large round pieces of bread with the centers scooped out, the trenchers Mrs. Stanek had promised she'd make. She'd actually brought in a huge pot of mashed peas to put on the bread, although Sam couldn't imagine anyone eating any of it. Marcy's mother had brought apple juice with cloves and Eric's mom had made a cinnamon cake, all food that had been around in the Middle Ages.

Mrs. Stanek turned and saw him. “You've finished the castle, Sam.” She said it as if she'd known all along it would happen.

He stood there, embarrassed, not knowing what to do with his hands.

“Show us,” she said.

He unwrapped the castle slowly, setting Caroline's horse straighter on the base, feeling the heat in his face.

Mrs. Stanek moved away from the board and came to the table, her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Sam.” She touched the small knights standing in front, the towers, and bent over to see the medieval lady standing in the window. “It's Caroline, isn't it?”

“Her mother made them, and Caroline made the horse,” he said. “It's all here in her notebook.”

“Hey, look at what Sam did,” Marcy said, and then everyone was crowding in to look at the castle, looking at him. “Cool,” someone said, and “Sam built this?” someone else said.

Eric grinned at him. “Terrific, MacKenzie. Really terrific.”

Sam couldn't stop grinning back at Eric, and at the rest of them. Mack had been right. Sam went back to his seat, glad that he'd brought the castle. More than glad.

Marcy began her speech, talking about cities with walls built around them for protection. And Mrs. Stanek walked around the room passing out her trenchers, holding out the pot of peas.

Sam took a trencher. “I'll try the peas.” He'd probably be the only one, but after all, Anima made something delicious with chickpeas—how different could this be? Besides, Mrs. Stanek's face was red. For the first time he thought about how hard she tried.

The peas were terrible, with enough pepper to make him sneeze, but he didn't have time to think about it, because the classroom door banged open, and Marcy stopped speaking, one arm raised.

Caroline stood there, her bracelets circling halfway up her arm. She was wearing a purple hat that curled around her face. As if no one else were in the room, she smiled at him, and said, “Here I am, Sam-I-Am.”