The Princess and the Knight (Alex)

Feeling the rush of the air, I found a tree, climbed it, and nailed a zombie in the head. A skeleton wanted to duel with me; I dodged each arrow using the steps I learned in dance class. I fired a few arrows and it collapsed into a pile of bones. I collected the bones because I sometimes sell raw materials to save up for nice things like new tap shoes or a phone upgrade. I saw a very young boy as I climbed down the tree. Normally, kids this young aren't out at these hours. If they are, they're usually fully armored and have their parents with them. Such was not the case with the boy I saw. He looked lost too.
         "What's your name? Your age?"
         "Tommy. I'm 3 years old. What's your name?" He looked confident. I liked that.
         "I'm Alex." I paused. "Do you know where your parents are?"
         "They sent me all by myself. I need to find Ainsley."
         "Who's Ainsley?" I was very curious at this point.
         "She goes to my preschool."
         "Well, I don't know an Ainsley. Can you describe her?"
         "I think that's her." He led the way and found a girl his age accompanied by a guy who looked to be her father. I went up to him. He explained that he was Ainsley's brother. Ainsley faced Tommy with a kind of glowing satisfaction. They started yelling at each other. Phillip, Ainsley's brother, succeeded in dissolving their argument.
         "Alex." Phillip turned to me. "Can you tell me where Caitlin Netherfield is?"
         "I can take you to her house. She's probably sleeping, though. What do you want her for? If you're one of those people who told my vocal teacher to kill herself, I'm planting an arrow through your head."
         "Let's not get hasty." He explained himself. "Landon LaCoste told me to go check on Caitlin because of that nasty Twitter feed." I knew that guy. He filled in for Miss Caitlin for my vocal lessons. The last few lessons I had, she was more tired and pale. She started wearing more dark red clothes, but I could still see the stains seeping through.
         "Okay." I led the way.

Seeing that going there would be a long way off, I stopped at a little shop. I knocked on the door. Alice, who had her arms full of stuff, let us in. We met her boss, Rose. She seems to be a nice person and a good shop owner at that. Alice laid out some sleeping bags for us and gave us some chicken and wheat soup. Ainsley devoured her soup eagerly. She decided that she liked Minecraft. Tommy picked at it apprehensively. Phillip and Alice ate with care.

When it was time to go to bed, Phillip read a bedtime story to Ainsley. I had heard this story from my own father numerous times. Though I knew the plot by heart, I decided against spoiling it. It was a story about a knight saving a princess from a dragon. However, the princess was discontented with herself. She wouldn't eat or speak for the longest time. The knight worked tirelessly for the princess despite this--or because of it. I'm not entirely sure which. Eventually, the princess fought dragons alongside the knight.

And how did she get there?

The knight gave the princess nearly all of his time. He invested in her day in and day out expecting nothing in return. The princess's slow, but sure progress is what the knight waited for. He slowly coaxed her out. She was like a shy ocelot that always ran from you, but, with little bits of fish, she eventually grew into the kind of cat that hides under your chair when it's scared.

The next day, we set out again after a breakfast of cinnamon rolls and sausage. I showed them the way. I hoped Miss Caitlin was okay. For someone reason, the kindest, most talented people are the most self-critical. I saved some food for all of us, but I reserved the strawberry squares for my teacher since I know they are her favorite. Alice decided against coming along because she needed to make a bit more to save up some money for herself. As she lifted a jar, I noticed a small slash across her wrist reflected in the glass.

When I came through the door, my legs stopped me in my tracks and my gaze was fixed on the most a scene I will never forget. There were several blood-stained rags on the floor. I saw my teacher with holding out her arms, which were dripping with blood. It was spurting in one place. She struggled to maintain consciousness. I covered Tommy's eyes, shielding him from the sight. Ainsley ran into Phillip's arms. A frantic Steve ran getting more rags and what looked like an antiseptic solution. He looked like he was about to cry, but he hid it well. He applied pressure to the wounds and dressed them with care.

Tommy talked with Ainsley about something called gender dysphoria. Apparently, he had a friend, Luke, who used to be called Lucy. That will throw any kid off. Ainsley has two moms. I hope she doesn't get harassed about her parents like I sometimes do. People will look at my father suspiciously, even when he does nothing out of the ordinary. They keep asking me where my mother is when I don't have one. I don't even know how I was born in the first place.
          "Get Alice." Steve looked at me pleadingly. Alice had declined to go, but I ran. I wanted to be anywhere but here. I wondered why I even wanted to see Miss Caitlin in the first place knowing that I would see her in this state and that I could nothing to help. She helped me during track with some breath-saving hacks. I used them as I ran, but even so, even the greatest athletes fatigue when pushed to their limits. I saw two men sitting on a bench with their arms around each other. They identified themselves as Fenris and Hawke. They were a couple--and a cute one at that. I wanted to chat, but I needed Alice. After more running, I found her cracking eggs to make more strawberry squares. I grabbed her arm and just ran.
           "What do you want?" Alice was irritated, but not out of breath. Harvesting raw materials can make an athlete out of anyone.
           "Steve needs you!" I explained the situation at hand. "All he told me was 'Get Alice' and didn't explain why."
           "Sounds like him," Alice grumbled. We ran together.

When we got back, Steve was delighted to see us! He told me to address him by his first name outside of school since we know each other fairly well. Fenris and Hawke had followed us back. They were concerned about me and Alice, so I gave my shorter explanation of Minecraft culture. Emancipated children as young as age ten are fairly common, but less so in more urban areas. Now that I was in middle school, I had more liberty to be out and about as I pleased. I could go on overnight expeditions on short notice as long as I was within 10,000 chunks of a familiar place. They left after Alice gave them the coordinates to Rose's shop.
           "I need the money to get my trumpet cleaned," she explained. Steve took us in and see Miss Caitlin. She looked tired and paler than wool laying in bed, but she was as pleased to see me as ever. I could smell healing potion on her breath. It smelled like fruit. My teacher wrapped her arms around me, wincing from the sting. Seeing a teacher hurt, especially one you like, is one of the most upsetting things in life.

Alice brewed potions and prepared Miss Caitlin for a third draught. She drank. I offered her a bite of strawberry square, which she took gratefully. Phillip gave me the book and I read the story of the princess and the knight again. Ainsley and Tommy sat on the floor waiting for the story. Phillip sat near them. Steve sat on the edge of the bed waiting to hear the story. I had a new audience.

Once upon a time, a princess lived her life in a tower with six mean older sisters who tormented her from day to day. She would have escaped, but a terrible dragon guarded the tower. The princess had seen a lot of men and women come and go attempting to bring down the beast. (Cue the funny picture of some armored people running away from the dragon, which looks a lot like the Ender Dragon.) She was unsure if her rescue would come. A gallant knight showed up to fight the dragon. The princess thought nothing of him, but she noticed that he was different. The knight wasn't looking for glory or fame. He wasn't really looking for anything other than a good fight.

And that's what he got. The fight took hours into the night. Neither knight nor dragon showed signs of tiring. The dragon swooped down after the knight, who took a hit. However, he got back to his feet and continued the fight. The princess watched from the tower window, wondering why he chose this dragon of all dragons to fight. Perhaps he'll choose one of my sisters as a wife, she thought as the battle continued. The princess hoped to see more, but her sisters told her to wash their clothes before the knight even grazed the dragon's skin.

When all her chores were finished, the princess continued watching the knight. The knight fought rather unusually. However, he vanquished the dragon in no time. The knight made his way over to the tower. The princess pulled out a book, hoping that he would not notice. However, the knight did notice. He loved the princess greatly, so much that he carried her out of the tower all the way back to his house. 

As time progressed, however, the knight grew concerned for his princess. She would not eat or speak, let alone display affection. However, the knight was persistent. He knew the princess had a a kind heart. The princess grew to trust the knight. She still did not talk, but she cried on his shoulder, laughed with him, and tended to his needs dutifully. Eventually, the princess grew more and more confident and she was able to sustain longer conversations. She and the knight got married shortly and ended up starting their own kingdom where they ruled as kind, just, and well-liked leaders. The end.

I closed the book as my teacher yawned and slept. Steve came up to me, thanking me fervently for my bravery.
          "Bravery? I was scared out of my wits."
          "But you showed up anyway. That takes guts, Alex." I noted that he had a more efficient, streamlined communication device. "It is hard to see the people we love suffer and harder still to continue to love them." That was kind of hard to understand, considering that suffering has a tendency to unite a group and make allies in ways that a peaceful life cannot.
          "How so?" I thought suffering was a way to create, test, and sustain love, not break it apart.
          "I took away Caitlin's reed knife. She protested, saying that factory-made reeds don't play as well as handmade ones. I don't love her music nearly as much as I love her, though." He paused, making sure I had processed that. "You know those cuts you saw? She inflicted those on herself. Every single one of them." The image of spurting blood came to my head again, making me feel kind of sick.
           "Why would she do that to herself?" We spend a lot of our lives trying not to get hurt, so why would anyone do it to themselves? That I could not understand.
          "You know how you scratch an itch?" Okay. What did that have to do with anything? "You scratch an itch to distract yourself from the sensation by giving yourself something stronger to feel." Oh. That makes sense. "It doesn't really help. It's just a diversion. If you scratch too much, you do damage. Those cuts are a means of scratching a mental itch, so to speak. Well, it's more like a never-ending wave of agony. When the blade penetrates her flesh, it prevents her from feeling the pain inside. It's hurting her. I want it to stop as much as you do, but please understand that she doesn't want to do it. She just wants the pain to stop." But what was causing her pain?

Looking at the Twitter feed and then looking back into Steve's eyes, now with tears falling from them, I felt angry. The mean Twitter people can say "It's just words," but words hurt. Words kill. If they saw my teacher face to face in this state, I bet the lot of of them would fake sympathy for the sake of their image. They're all a bunch of cowards. I decided to leave because I just couldn't take all of this in one day.

When I got home, my father looked concerned. Immediately I started crying into his arms, telling him everything. He rubbed my back through the entire thing and assured me that everything was going to be okay in one way or another. He brewed me some hot chocolate with pink marshmallows in my favorite mug, the one with the flowers and hearts. This warmed me from the inside. My father always knew what to say or do in any situation.

After that, I took my shower with the vanilla soap and changed into my pajamas to hear the story of the princess and the knight again. I will never tire of that story no matter who tells it.