“Shame,” said Coach. “What do you have to say about these training exercises?”
Aiden leaned back farther in his chair, his slouch going from insouciant to insolent. He understood now that Coach had Seiji on the team, she’d gone wild with ambition to win the state championship. Aiden wished her luck. This didn’t mean he was going to put forth actual effort.
“Quick note on those: I won’t be doing them.”
The corner of Coach’s mouth kicked up. “You think you’re getting out of this that easily, huh?”
“I really do. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful and indolent,” said Aiden. “I mean… I guess you can, but I won’t care. See: indolent.”
Coach’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll drop you from the team.”
Aiden refused to show weakness.
“Easy come, easy go. Replace me with Eugene. Then burst into tears every time you imagine me in his place.”
“I’ll try to be strong.” Coach’s voice was dry. “Run along, Aiden.”
Weird. Aiden had been pretty sure she was bluffing. He felt a pang at the thought of losing fencing, sharper than he would’ve thought. He couldn’t help remembering the early days of fencing lessons, when he started to move in a way that was graceful rather than awkward. Fencing had taught him a new way of existing in the world. Fencing wasn’t a person. Aiden hadn’t thought he could ever lose fencing.
Harvard was in all his memories of fencing, as he was in every memory that mattered, his face luminous and his voice warm as he said, We’ll be on the same team, always.
With fervor that surprised him, Aiden wanted to ask Coach to reconsider, but he couldn’t let her win. He gave her a lazy salute, then ran his saluting hand through his long hair, which he usually kept in a ponytail.
“It’s been real, Coach.”
He was at the door when Coach said: “I’ll also be replacing you as Harvard’s roommate. With Eugene.”
The whole world went still, and Aiden with it.
Aiden froze with his hand on the doorknob. “Excuse me. What?”
“It will be an opportunity for Harvard and Eugene to bond as teammates!” said Coach. “Like Seiji and Nicholas. They’re roommates, and lately I think they’ve been connecting.”
Aiden turned and snarled: “I found Seiji and Nicholas trying to murder each other in a supply closet last week!”
“I’m sure that was part of the bonding process,” Coach said airily. “Well, ta-ta, Aiden!” She wiggled her fingers at him. “It’s been real.”
Aiden’s vision blurred as he tried not to panic. The posters on the walls swam before him. He felt surrounded by fuzzy, dancing swords. That was naturally unsettling.
“Don’t worry,” Coach added. “I’m positive you can find some other boy to be your roommate.”
“I don’t want another roommate!”
Aiden paused, taking a deep breath. He was shouting. He didn’t let himself shout. It wasn’t cool. The ring of his own voice echoed in his ears like the remembered sound of people having fights downstairs. The kind of fights that ended in somebody leaving forever.
“Don’t you?” Coach shrugged. “Guess you’ll be participating in these exercises.”
Coach’s smile was smug. She was doing this on purpose. The detached part of Aiden, lounging in the back of his own mind, admired her play. It was important to know your opponent’s weak points.
“If you try making me do trust falls with Nicholas, Seiji, or Eugene, goodbye team!” warned Aiden. “There will be fatalities.”
“Fair enough,” said Coach, benevolent in victory. “I’m a reasonable woman. I’m prepared to compromise. If you swear to me you will attend every match we have this year, and if you write an essay about your childhood to share with the team next week, and if you attend the sessions and the team bonfire, then you can stay. On the team. With your roommate. Deal?”
Aiden’s soul writhed like a fish on a hook. He didn’t want to participate in team bonding or let Coach win. He didn’t want to write an essay on the awful, pathetic times of his childhood. He tried to think of a way to keep his dignity.
The office’s picture window showed leaves golden as falling stars before Aiden’s eyes. Clear as though the window were a photograph, Aiden could see his first day at Kings Row, walking on the smooth green grass of the quad under the oak trees. He could feel again the swift, hard beat of his heart as he worked up the nerve to ask Harvard a question. Aiden’s father had suggested bigger, even more elite schools, but Harvard had picked this rambling redbrick place of deep woods and narrow lanes, and he wanted Aiden to be his roommate. Aiden loved Kings Row, as he loved fencing, because Harvard had chosen it for them.
His room at Kings Row was home. He wouldn’t give it up.
“Deal or no deal?” After a pause, Coach called out, “Harvard! I’m going to need you to get Eugene.”
“Fine!” Aiden snapped. “Deal.”
Coach was smiling. Aiden wasn’t.
It was Aiden’s policy not to care much about anyone or anything. If Aiden knew one thing for sure, he knew that the person who cared more always lost.
This time, Aiden had lost.
2: HARVARD
Harvard was worried about his team. Most of all, he was worried about Aiden.
Harvard always worried the most about Aiden, but right now he had new reasons. Harvard was standing in the hall, leaning against the ebony paneling and listening to the muffled sound of voices behind the door, Aiden’s easy cadence unmistakable. But then Aiden had gone quiet. Aiden hardly ever went quiet. When he did, it was a very bad sign. Harvard wondered if he should go back inside.
Just then, the rest of the team showed up and distracted him. Seiji was leading the charge, heading for Coach’s door like a guided missile in a crisply ironed uniform.
“I wish to speak to Coach further about this absurd team bonding idea. It has been haunting me all day,” said Seiji, just as Nicholas Cox checked Seiji’s stride by grabbing on to his sleeve. “Release me, Nicholas!”
“Nope,” Nicholas said.
He and Seiji were like that sometimes. Nicholas grinned while Seiji glared, and Eugene tried to creep up behind Harvard so he could listen at the door. Eugene was a big guy. His sneaking was not subtle.
“Seiji, Coach Williams is talking to Aiden right now,” Harvard said, trying to calm the constantly troubled waters between their star fencer and their scholarship kid. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
Seiji’s almost-black eyes narrowed. “Captain, it’s insanity to be wasting time forming human connections when we should be fencing.”
Harvard liked Seiji, but he was very intense. He intimidated many of the other students at Kings Row. He didn’t appear to intimidate Nicholas significantly, though.
Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Team bonding is gonna be cool. You just don’t wanna do it because it means talking to people.”
“Exactly,” said Seiji. “I’m not temperamentally suited to bonding, and I won’t do it.”
Harvard tried to speak reasonably, as was his job as captain. He also made a gesture to Nicholas to tuck in his shirt. As usual, Nicholas was breaking every rule of the dress code.
“Coach thinks this is our best shot at winning the state championship. We’ve never even come close to the finals, not since Robert Coste was a student. When we go up against Exton, we have to be the best team we can be if we’re going to have any chance of beating them.”
At the mention of Robert Coste, both Seiji and Nicholas jolted as though electrified. Harvard wasn’t sure why Nicholas would care about Robert Coste. Maybe he was being sympathetic to his roommate. That was nice. Harvard gave him an encouraging nod.
“Oh, I’m going to beat Exton,” said Seiji, his voice deadly calm. “Tomorrow I will explain to the coach that I can do it on my own.”
“Wow, Seiji. You need me. I’m your rival,” Nicholas muttered.
“You’re not my rival,” Seiji muttered back. “You’re ver
y bad.”
“Let’s not insult our teammates, guys,” said Harvard.
Seiji blinked, finally breaking his intense gaze. “I didn’t mean to be insulting, Nicholas. What I meant was, your fencing is very bad.”
“Really?” said Nicholas. “Really?”
He started to shove Seiji, who turned and walked away down the corridor. Nicholas followed Seiji so he could continue shoving him.
Normally, Harvard would’ve sent two boys who fought as much as Nicholas and Seiji to their dorm, but since Nicholas and Seiji shared a room, that seemed like telling them to go kill each other in private.
Harvard realized Eugene had his ear pressed up against the door of Coach’s office, and intervened hastily to pull him away.
“Whoa, bro,” said Eugene. “Captain, bro. Do you wanna know what Coach just said to Aiden?”
“No, I don’t,” Harvard told him sternly, “because eavesdropping is wrong.”
Whatever Eugene had overheard, it would be all over the school by nightfall. Harvard opened his mouth to order Eugene not to gossip about Aiden’s business.
The door to Coach’s office swung wide. Harvard pushed Eugene immediately out of the way.
Aiden didn’t glance at Harvard, or anyone else, as he stormed, white-faced, out of Coach’s office—and not, Harvard noticed, in the direction of one of his usual make-out spots. He would’ve chased after Aiden if he didn’t have to meet with Coach next. Harvard had responsibilities. He couldn’t just run off and do whatever he wanted.
That was Aiden’s job.
Still, the glimpse he’d got of Aiden’s green eyes set in a face gone salt-white stayed with him, even after the echo of Aiden’s steps down the hall had faded away. Maybe Harvard could quickly go check on him.
Coach rapped on her desk. “Captain! Come inside.”
Harvard hesitated a moment.
“When I get impatient, I have this irresistible urge to order captains to do five hundred suicides,” threatened Coach.
Harvard did as he was told, and closed the door of the office behind him.
Coach studied him as he sat.
“What are you looking so thoughtful about, Harvard?”
“Aiden,” said Harvard honestly.
“You’re thinking about Aiden?” said Coach.
“Well, I’m thinking about all my teammates, really,” said Harvard. “The team is in some, uh, disarray. Seiji and Nicholas were fighting about Seiji not wanting to do team bonding, and Aiden seemed… upset.”
“You shock me,” said Coach. “On all counts.”
Harvard decided there was nothing to worry about, because he and Coach would put their heads together and work this out. Coach Williams was the best coach Harvard had ever had, and Harvard thought they made a pretty good pair. His mom thought she was awesome, too. Coach wore her hair in a natural cloud like Mom’s youngest and coolest sister, Harvard’s favorite aunt, though Harvard’s auntie wore gold beads woven through her curls. Harvard couldn’t imagine Coach doing that. Coach was too no-nonsense for beads.
“I’m really glad we’re doing these bonding exercises, Coach. It’s a great idea, and I’m behind you one hundred and ten percent. Nicholas seems excited about team bonding, too. I know he doesn’t seem like a people person, but I think he’s what my Meemee would call a rough diamond.”
“His technique is certainly rough,” said Coach, but she said it with a forgiving smile.
Harvard suspected Coach had a soft spot for the new kid. Harvard liked Nicholas, too.
“Oh, but Seiji’s technique is very smooth; they can learn from each other,” Harvard said eagerly. “Maybe Meemee would call Seiji an overly polished diamond? You know how diamonds are created by coal under immense pressure? Maybe that’s Seiji’s problem. He’s a diamond who puts himself under too much pressure, like he believes he’s still coal.”
He checked to see what Coach thought about this theory. Coach was frowning, kicked back in her chair, the way she did when she was mentally working her way through a new strategy.
“Diamonds aren’t actually created from coal. Some diamonds are created by asteroid strikes,” said Coach.
“Really?”
Coach winked. “Trust me, I’m a teacher. Sometimes you have to take drastic action to get shining results.”
Harvard was silent. He saw what Coach meant, but he was slightly worried about what the equivalent of an asteroid strike would do to his team.
“What are your thoughts about Aiden?” Coach asked.
Harvard said it simply: “Aiden’s the best.”
Coach didn’t look convinced, but she would see. Harvard had faith.
Eager to help, Harvard proposed, “I was thinking—maybe we could start by drawing up a points system.”
Coach shook her head.
“You think we should play it looser and more relaxed? You could be right. Okay, let’s lay out the beginning stages of the plan. You know, loosely.”
Another head shake.
“Maybe a graph?” said Harvard, questing.
“Sometimes I worry…,” Coach started.
“About Aiden? I’ll talk to him.”
“Don’t you get tired of talking to Aiden?” asked Coach.
“No, never.”
“I suppose you’re used to it.” Coach suppressed a shudder. “Friends for ten years and all that.”
“Twelve.” They hadn’t gone a day without talking since they’d first met.
More recently, this meant Aiden would text Harvard messages at random hours, such as In Swiss chalet, kidnapped by heir to Swiss banking fortune. Harvard would wake in a panic at the notification, and then grin, texting back Should I alert the authorities? When Aiden replied In the morning, Harvard could go back to sleep, knowing Aiden was safe somewhere in the world.
It was nicer during the semester, when Aiden was always nearby. Then it was how they’d planned, ever since they were kids. They’d looked into other schools, but Harvard liked the idea of this small, lovely place where he could learn everybody’s name. He’d been able to picture their future here ever since their first day walking around Kings Row, discussing how they would be roommates, teammates, and go to the fair in town every year. Aiden had swung around the stone pillars standing on each end of the quad and laughed. The sound was as bright as the spill of sunlight through the oak leaves, and Harvard had known they would be happy at Kings Row.
During the semester, it all went exactly according to plan.
Well. Almost.
“One day we’ll hire a bunch of nuns to sing ‘How Do You Solve a Problem Like Aiden?’ and maybe we’ll receive an answer,” said Coach. “Besides him, don’t you get tired of running around after the team, solving their problems?”
“Um,” said Harvard. “No? I’m the captain.”
“You did it before you were captain, though.”
Coach seemed to be in a funny mood.
“I was happy to help,” said Harvard. “And I was hoping to be chosen as captain. Which I was. Thanks, Coach! So, it’s all good. Except I’m not really following you here.… If you’re not worried about Aiden, is it Seiji or Nicholas?”
“I’m worried about you,” said Coach.
“Me?” Harvard repeated, shocked. “But I’m—”
“All good?”
Coach raised a single eyebrow.
“Well…,” Harvard said. “Yeah. What’s this got to do with team bonding?”
“I’m glad you asked. Your special personal assignment is to remember there’s a me in team,” Coach told him.
Harvard blinked.
“Do you realize the only person on the team you’re not tenderly concerned about is you?”
“Oh right! I get it now. I could definitely get some more practice in,” Harvard suggested. “I’ll ask Seiji or Aiden—”
Coach held up a hand. Harvard felt seven years old again, confused and at a loss. The only thing he could be certain of was there must be something he could do to fix th
is and please her, but he couldn’t think what.
“No. Don’t think about fencing. Think about yourself.”
“Coach,” Harvard said helplessly, “I’m fine.”
“Yes,” said Coach. “But are you happy?”
“Well, of—”
“Don’t answer me right away,” said Coach. “Think about it. When was the last time you did something purely for yourself? Go on a date or something.”
Harvard’s head snapped back so hard Coach’s cool sword posters blurred in his vision.
“A date!” said Harvard. “What do you mean?”
“You know, the sweet fruit that’s a staple food in the Middle East.” Coach rolled her eyes. “I mean an outing, its intent entertainment and romance. You’re Aiden’s best friend. Surely you’ve become familiar with the concept of a date by osmosis? I’d understand if you didn’t know what a second date was.…”
She trailed off. Harvard must have looked slightly traumatized.
More gently, Coach said, “If you don’t have any interest in romance, that’s more than okay. It was just a suggestion. You don’t have to date. You can get ice cream or play a video game.”
“I do!” exclaimed Harvard. “Uh, that wasn’t an ‘I do’ to playing video games, though I do occasionally. With my little cousin. Some of those games are very violent. Never mind that,” he added hastily. “I mean—I do have an interest in romance. Dating. I mean, I always thought it might just—happen.…”
“Did you believe a date might fall out of a tree?” asked Coach. “Again, you may be thinking of the fruit.”
Harvard met many wonderful people and tended to get along with them pretty well. He’d had the hazy thought, now and then, that one day he’d meet someone great and feel what was described as a coup de foudre: a strike of lightning. Or a coup de maître: a masterstroke, someone delivering a strike that was both utterly recognizable and irresistible. He’d thought he would meet someone, and they would make sense to him in the same way fencing did. He’d want to be around them all the time.
That hadn’t happened so far. Harvard hadn’t worried about it. His mother said it was best to wait to get serious, and Harvard knew himself well enough to be aware he tended to get serious about everything. He’d probably meet someone in college. They’d get married and adopt a totally great dog. It would be…
Fence--Striking Distance Page 2
