“Well, I guess everyone exists. I should have been clearer. I was born with the right to exist as I am and with the talent to claim that right.”
“What?”
“Basically, I was born with anti-bullshit talent. I'm not going to be someone I'm not.”
“I don't think any of us can be what were not,” Tamara lied and bit her lip for a pause in the conversation, “I mean we're born as us so what else can we be?”
“Never mind,” Hayden shrugged.
“Okay guys, gather round,” Greg said.
“Guess we're not getting in one last game,” Hayden said, putting the pieces quickly back into their allotted spaces in the box.”
“Guess not.”
“Come on, guys,” Greg said, tapping his foot as he stood in front of Sir Bedivere. His hand idly traced the contour of one of the statues ears.
Tamara joined the rest of the group, but stayed in the back with Hayden.
“We've all worked really hard getting ready for this tournament so I know we’re going to kick butt, but none-the-less we still have to give thanks where it's due. Sir Bedivere has been our team's good luck charm since before any of us were born. For those of you who don't know we usually leave candies or something else important for him.”
“He's a statue,” Hayden called out, “He doesn't eat.”
“Well, the candies always disappear,” Cindy cut in, “but the wrappers are always left behind.”
“The janitor probably eats them,” Hayden smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Mr. Bowens wouldn't do that!” Cindy said.
“That's enough, guys!” Greg said wrapping his arm around Cindy, “Any way, it's what we do and it's never failed us before. If something's not broke don't screw with it.”
“Whatever.”
Tamara looked at Hayden out of the corner of her eye wondering where was the right to exist now? She bit her tongue to stifle laughter that threatened to bubble over her lips.
“Anyway, let's get started, guys,” Greg said.
Tamara watched her team mates one by one leaving various offerings of small candies, little figurines, flowers, and other various things. Cindy left a full bag of caramels and before Sir Bedivere Greg sat a package of three caramel candy apples. After they left their offering each of them collected their things and left. Tamara noticed that none of them looked at Sir Bedivere as they left. Their eyes were purposely diverted from him as if they feared that the knight statue would be too bashful to claim his offering if they were watching.
“Do you believe this?” Hayden asked once he and Tamara were alone in the room.
“I don't know what to think. It's odd, but I think it's nothing more than a superstition,” she shrugged picking up her backpack, “Even a lot of sports teams have them.”
“So they're borrowing from the jocks?” Hayden asked, examining each of the offerings in turn.
“No, it's a lot older than that,” Tamara arched, an eyebrow and shoved her hand into her purse. Usually, she carried something sweet in case she needed a pick-me-up in between classes. Today her stash was empty.
“Want one?” Hayden asked, cutting through the hard plastic packaging of the candy apples with a pair of scissors.
“I don't think we should bother that stuff,” she said.
“Why not? There's two of us, that would still leave one for the janitor,” Hayden said, pulling the first one out and offering it to Tamara. Her hand shook as her fingers wrapped around the wooden stick that was speared into the middle of the fruit.
“Go, on,” Hayden said, “Unless you think he poisoned them.”
“Nah, he wouldn't want to kill off Sir Bedivere,” Tamara said and slowly sank her teeth into the apple. Her taste buds were instantly overwhelmed by chocolate and caramel and then by the juicy sweetness of the bright red apple underneath. The juice dribbled from the corners of her mouth and onto her chin before she wiped it away with the sleeve of her hoodie.
“These are good,” she nodded taking another bite.
“Exactly. So why waste them on a janitor?”
Tamara's skin gave rise to more goosebumps with every bite she took.
“Crap!” she said, throwing the core and the stick into the trash can, “My mom doesn't like to wait! I've got to go! See you tomorrow!”
Chapter Four
The red numbers of the digital clock across the room told Tamara it was three minutes past midnight, but she was still unable to sleep. She turned her pillow over to the colder side and nuzzled her face into it. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up and every time she closed her eyes she saw the black empty eyes of Sir Bedivere staring back at her. Tamara couldn't shake the silly image from her head, except, it didn't feel silly.