I pretended to yawn, then walked very slowly, backward, over the finish line. My teammates all began whooping at once.They ignored the soot covering me from head to toe, lifted me onto their shoulders, and paraded me around our small village center. Another year undefeated added to my record.
“Way to go!”
“That was amazing.”
“You flew off the chapel.”
“I thought Friar Tuck was going to faint.”
Little John’s team shuffled up, clearly disappointed, but they were good sports about losing. Paul Little slapped my back. “Well done, Laurel. That was your best escape yet. We’ll get you next year.”
“You can try,” I goaded, but I shook his hand.
Several small children began chanting, “Laurel. Laurel. Laurel.”
I grinned so hard my cheeks hurt. For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t Isabella. I wasn’t scrubbing floors. I wasn’t lying to servants or stealing scraps of paper from Prince John’s rubbish. I wasn’t thinking about anything other than victory. I was Laurel of Locksley, Robin Hoods’ daughter. And I had won.
“That girl will be the death of me,” I heard Friar Tuck grumble. Then he called out, “Laurel! You owe me a new candelabra.”
I couldn’t stop grinning.
After I had finally been setdown and the crowd had dissipated, dinner was announced, and most people moved off, still talking excitedly about the games. I wasn’t hungry. I was still too thrilled with my success. I changed out of my sootyclothes into a clean tunic and leggings, then used one of the rain barrels to splash my face and hair clean.
“Been gone so long you can’t remember where we have the picnic?” Peter’s voice came from behind me.
My face was still dripping, so I kept my eyes scrunched shut and reached one hand toward his voice. “No, just not hungry. Lend me a handkerchief?”
A cloth was placed in my hand, and I wiped my face dry.
“Good game today,” Peter said. “That was brilliant.” His voice brightened with admiration. “You should’ve seen the look on Dad’s face when you flew right over his head. They’ll be talking about that one for years.”
I threw the handkerchief back at him. “Good thing Teresa is handy with knots. And that you can wrestle down my pursuers. I was glad you were on my side.”
Peter blushed faintly again. “So, you don’t want to eat?”
“Nah. I figured I would just go for a walk or something.” Peter fell into step beside me. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted him there or not, but I supposed he could follow along. I was in a good enough mood that I felt equally content having company or not.
“Remember that time we tried to dig a bear pit?” Peter asked suddenly. “Just there, wasn’t it?” He pointed.
I chuckled. “Oh, yeah. We dug for three days, then covered it with sticks and leaves.”
“And we caught Lincoln,” Peter finished.
I laughed. “He was furious.”
“He still checks the ground whenever he walks past this spot, you know.”
“Good. He should.” We found the shallow depression where the old pit had been and sat down inside it, our shoulders nearly brushing. The ground was cool beneath us, and bits of grass poked through the dirt. For a little while, it was easy to fall backinto old memories. We traded stories back and forth for some time, recounting some of the things we had done together as children.
“And remember the time we hid up in the trees and dropped acorns on anyone who passed under us?” I asked.
“That was not one time,” Peter said. “We did that at least once a week for a year.” He laughed, and I laughed along with him.
This was nice. Better than nice, actually. It was a comfortable, familiar, back-and-forth sort of conversation that didn’t require me to think too much. With Peter, I could remember being young and careless, when times were simpler.
Then Peter ruined it.
“So, who was that old boyfriend you mentioned before?” he asked abruptly.
