Fence

by Sarah Rees Brennan

  Nicholas was a clumsy idiot, but he would rather cut off his left hand—his fencing hand—than hurt Seiji. However, one thing had been made very clear by the fencing match Seiji had lost to Jesse Coste, the match Aiden had seen. Jesse would hurt Seiji.

  “Jesse,” Aiden purred.

  Jesse paused his drills and raised a golden eyebrow as though it were a scepter. “Aiden?”

  “Good news. As your elder, I’ve decided to share my wisdom with you.”

  Jesse made a face. “I don’t want you to share your wisdom with me. You carry a teddy bear around with you wherever you go. You appear to have deep-seated emotional problems.”

  “One day I’ll make some lucky therapist very happy,” Aiden confirmed. “For now, let’s not talk about the fascinating subject of me! Shall we discuss the much less interesting, and notably less attractive, subject of Seiji Katayama?”

  Jesse went still and quiet. He was far more pleasant company that way.

  “You know,” Aiden continued carelessly, “here’s a fun detail about Seiji! There are very few fun details about Seiji, so you might remember this one. When we were doing our fencing trials at Kings Row, I beat Seiji in a fencing match.”

  Jesse raked his blue eyes down Aiden’s body, which was not a new experience for Aiden. Usually, when guys looked at him, Aiden knew what was on their mind. He also knew what was on Jesse’s mind.

  Because Jesse was a tragic individual, Aiden was aware Jesse was definitely thinking about fencing.

  “You?” said Jesse. “I’ve seen you during training. You’re nothing special. How could you beat Seiji?”

  “Want to know?” Aiden gestured with his épée at Jesse. “Let’s have a match.”

  He turned and headed for a grove amid the lemon trees. He didn’t look back and see if Jesse was following. Boys always did.

  Jesse had his mask, so he slid it on. Jesse and Aiden inclined their heads to each other, assuming en garde position, acting precisely as though they were on a regular piste. Then Jesse sailed right into a lunge made with double disengage.

  There was no way to stop Jesse from scoring a point. Aiden only just stopped himself from whistling. Jesse was as fast as the fastest fencer Aiden had ever seen; Jesse was as fast as Nicholas, but he had the same cut-glass, polished-to-perfection technique as Seiji.

  Oh well. Aiden had his own skills.

  He offered Jesse a dazzling smile. Jesse looked perturbed, as though he wasn’t used to his opponents radiating charm in his direction. “I beat Seiji the same way I beat all of them,” Aiden informed the younger boy. “I don’t beat them by being good. I beat them by making them feel bad about themselves. Would you know anything about that, Jesse?”

  Jesse parried Aiden’s lunge, but only just. “No. I win through skill.”

  “Funny,” said Aiden. “I had another match with Seiji later. He told me, I don’t employ cheap tricks. I’ll just beat you because I’m better than you. And he did. How about you?”

  “It’s the same for me.”

  “Is it?” asked Aiden. “That’s how you beat Seiji? You were absolutely confident that you were better than him? You weren’t even tempted to employ a cheap trick?”

  Aiden scored a point. Jesse’s blue eyes flared indignation behind the mask. Aiden kept smiling.

  “Of course not!”

  “Peculiar,” Aiden remarked nonchalantly. “Seiji’s lost matches before. He didn’t even bear a grudge against me when I won, and plenty of people would have. He’s not a sore loser. Yet after losing a match to you, he leaves for France, then he goes to Kings Row. I wonder why Seiji thinks he lost to you?”

  Their épées clashed, exchanging glancing blows, then Jesse came in hard.

  “So what?” Jesse spat. “You think I hurt his feelings so much that he decided to throw away his whole future and go fence at Kings Row? That’s why now whenever I see him he’s in the company of that other boy, which I know he’s doing to punish me—”

  “It’s all about you, isn’t it, Jesse?” asked Aiden. “Not sure that’s a great quality for a captain to have. I know what a great captain looks like… and it’s nothing like you.”

  Jesse wasn’t listening. He scored another point with Aiden, using his speed but very little finesse. Now that Aiden was watching him more closely, Aiden wasn’t sure that Jesse was as fast as Nicholas. Maybe close, but not quite.

  Seiji would know.

  Jesse sounded a little short of breath. “Maybe you have to employ tricks to win, but not me. I’m the best.”

  He stated it as if it was an undeniable fact, the one absolute truth in the universe.

  “You seem very invested in that, Jesse,” said Aiden. “What happens if you’re not the best? Ever think of that? Or wait, let me guess. You think about that all the time, don’t you?”

  Jesse said, “Shut up.”

  Aiden won another point and pursued his advantage. “Was it worth winning, Jesse? Are you happy all by yourself?”

  “How am I all by myself? Exton’s a big school,” said Jesse, who appeared to have caught fatal pragmatism from Seiji Katayama, like a fencing partner–transmitted disease. “Far bigger than yours.”

  “Has it occurred to you that Seiji’s not punishing you?” Aiden asked. “It doesn’t matter what you think about how that match went. It doesn’t matter what I think—”

  Jesse scoffed. “It certainly doesn’t.”

  Luckily, Jesse had charm, because the kid was not tactful.

  “It matters what Seiji thinks,” Aiden finished. “He’s distanced himself from you as far as he could. You used to be inseparable, but maybe that’s all over. Maybe he’s realized you aren’t worth the trouble. Maybe he’s realized he should never have believed in you. Maybe he’s just done with you.”

  He saw Jesse flinch, and he sympathized.

  “He’s not,” said Jesse. “He’s coming to Exton. I’ll make it happen. And I’m going to beat you.”

  In the end, Jesse was too good to defeat, and Jesse cared far too much about winning to let any other feelings interfere. Aiden lost, but by a narrower margin than anyone else would’ve expected.

  Jesse cast Aiden a look of triumph.

  Aiden asked solicitously, “Does it feel like you won?”

  “Yes, it feels like I won,” Jesse snapped. “Because I won! Did you miss that?”

  Aiden shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “It’s like looking into a mirror, kid. Or it would be, but you’re not as cute or as smart as me. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Nobody is.”

  He shook his head as he walked off, leaving Jesse alone. Harvard and Seiji weren’t similar people. Harvard was the single best person in the universe, and Seiji was extremely annoying and uptight, but they were both good people. They wouldn’t hurt people on purpose, and they didn’t understand when someone hurt them.

  Seiji’s better off without you, Aiden thought as he left Jesse behind. And Harvard’s better off without me.

  28 SEIJI

  Coach had said Camp Menton was a place where they could learn new skills, including that of international cooperation. Seiji and Nicholas were in a fight. Just as Jesse’s friends had always preferred Jesse, obviously all of Nicholas’s friends preferred Nicholas, so it made sense for Seiji to stay away and work on international cooperation. Many of the other trainees wanted practice bouts with Seiji, so on the morning of the second day at camp, Seiji agreed to have a match with everyone who asked.

  Seiji didn’t have to make small talk at Camp Menton. It was natural for everyone to talk about fencing. Seiji fit right in.

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” asked his latest partner. “You beat me at a match in Marseille, more than a year ago.”

  Well, almost.

  “I beat a lot of people,” Seiji said truthfully.

  The boy ground his teeth, clearly taking offense at simple honesty. “You won’t beat me again. What do you have to say to that?”

  One of those, Seiji thought
wearily. He’d forgotten, with Nicholas at Kings Row, where rival meant something different.

  These boys thought of beating Seiji like winning a trophy. It would never occur to them to loyally attend Seiji’s other matches or take pleasure in watching Seiji fence. They wanted the victory. They didn’t want the game.

  The boy didn’t get the victory he wanted. Once they started fencing, Seiji remembered his moves, and remembered that his opponent was mediocre at best. Seiji won fifteen to zero, and the other boy stormed off. People said that Seiji’s face was expressionless. They didn’t realize how carefully he’d trained himself not to constantly roll his eyes.

  It relieved Seiji’s temper somewhat to beat everyone in camp who approached him for a match, but it certainly didn’t win him any friends. That was fine. Seiji was used to it. Seiji surveyed the stone walls of the Camp Menton salle, eyes narrowed, and he knew his every look was a challenge.

  Once he’d won every match, people stopped making so many jokes about his team.

  When he was done beating all comers, Seiji ate sitting at a picnic table by himself in the comforting shade provided by the trees. Eating alone was fine. He’d eaten alone plenty of times before, in France and at tournaments when he’d put people’s backs up, or when Jesse was annoyed with him, or at Kings Row before Nicholas had made them be friends. That hadn’t been Seiji’s suggestion. Seiji didn’t need or want friends.

  He got up and headed for his room, then remembered Nicholas might be there.

  Seiji turned and ran toward the crash of the sea. He stumbled over tree roots and loose stones. The air was heavy with salt and scented like citrus, slipping through Seiji’s lips and tasting bitter.

  He ended up on a rocky outcrop looking onto the sea, under an olive tree shaking in the rising wind. Aiden was there. He was curled up near the edge of the outcrop. Aiden seemed to like being in dangerous places. He was shivering in his thin dark crimson top, sleeves pulled down over his hands and hair whipped around by the wind. His mouth looked bruised, and the skin around his eyes did, too, as though he’d been biting his lips and not sleeping.

  Aiden didn’t take his gaze off the horizon, where the blue of the sea met the blue of the sky and the only difference between the two was that, in the sea, the reflection of the sun wavered. He didn’t evince any surprise Seiji was there. “Hey, Katayama.”

  “Hey,” Seiji answered in a small voice.

  “You want to be alone?” Aiden sounded almost kind.

  Seiji hesitated, then shook his head.

  Aiden had once beaten Seiji in a fencing match, throwing Seiji off by mentioning Jesse to him. Yet on a different occasion, Aiden had stood between Seiji and Jesse, and used the shining shield of his own assurance to give Seiji some confidence, too.

  In some ways, Aiden was like Jesse. But he was on Seiji’s team.

  “Can I tell you something?” Seiji asked.

  “Yes, freshman, I am the ideal sympathetic ear.”

  “Thank you. Nicholas left me with Jesse at the gathering, but Nicholas doesn’t know—”

  “Oh, Seiji, please learn about sarcasm—” Aiden began, but the words were tumbling out now, and Seiji knew no way to stop them.

  “Jesse challenged me to a fencing match. If I lose, I said I’d go to Exton with him. It makes sense for me to go. I know I don’t fit in at Kings Row,” Seiji confessed. “I’ve never—I don’t make friends easily. I get so much wrong. People don’t like me. In Europe, at least the other trainees care about how I fence. Before, there was always Jesse. There’s nothing like that at Kings Row. I’m never certain of anything there.”

  “You’re doing fine at Kings Row,” said Aiden. “Everybody on the team likes you. One of your little friends has such a big crush on you that he can barely open his mouth when you’re around.”

  “I—what?” asked Seiji. “Who?”

  Nicholas? Seiji thought. Extremely strangely, his body temperature seemed to drop, and he had the impression there was less air around than there should be. No, it couldn’t be Nicholas. Nicholas talked all the time.

  “Be kind to him if you can,” advised Aiden. “That stuff hurts.”

  “Are you… hurt?” Seiji saw Aiden’s body coiling as though to spring, and added hastily, “I get up early. I heard Coach Robillard ask you to leave this morning. I know you were in trouble in school, too. Will something happen to you?”

  Aiden’s body uncoiled, relaxing ever so slightly.

  “I’m expelled. I guess it’s the same for me as it is for you.” Aiden stared out at the sea. “It makes sense for me to leave Kings Row. Maybe it would be better for me to go. But… now that it comes to it, I don’t want to.”

  Aiden’s voice was low, almost lost beneath the rush of waves. If they were telling secrets, Seiji could tell his, too.

  “I don’t want to go, either,” Seiji confessed.

  “Then don’t go. Don’t play Jesse’s game, Seiji.”

  Seiji stared. “Don’t fence?”

  “No.…” Aiden sounded at a loss. “That’s not what I meant, no.”

  “That’s the game Jesse plays,” Seiji pointed out, and Aiden only shrugged, lapsing back into silence.

  For so many years of his life, fencing had meant Jesse to Seiji. He’d learned to associate the two things, in the same way he’d learned the steps of his drills. The moves were instinct to him now. Seiji had to fence. And perhaps that meant he had to be with Jesse. Perhaps that meant he was going to lose to Jesse. Just like before.

  There was nothing Aiden could do to help Seiji. When it came to fencing, Seiji was on his own.

  “I wish we could both stay at Kings Row,” Seiji said.

  Aiden didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. Seiji was only telling his wish to the sea. Finally, Seiji rose to his feet and made his way back toward the camp.

  As soon as he reached the path through the trees, he saw Nicholas. There was no chance of retreating back to the trees. Nicholas was staring right at him… and smiling. Seiji glanced suspiciously over his shoulder to see if there was anyone behind him. There wasn’t.

  “There you are,” said Nicholas. “I’ve been looking for you all day.”

  Seiji was somewhat at a loss. “But aren’t we…” He paused. “Aren’t we in a fight?”

  “Since when?”

  “Yesterday we—”

  “Oh, yesterday,” said Nicholas. And then, “Are you still mad?”

  “… No?”

  “Good,” Nicholas told him. “Friends have fights. If we get really mad, we can punch each other. It’s whatever. If you keep feeling lousy over every bad thing that happens, seems to me like you’ll feel lousy forever. Is this why you didn’t save me my breakfast roll this morning? Don’t be petty. Give me it tomorrow.”

  Seiji had simply eaten breakfast alone and early, as usual in life before Nicholas. He’d actually picked up Nicholas’s breakfast roll automatically, then noticed what he’d done and resentfully eaten it himself, but he had no intention of telling Nicholas that.

  Seiji didn’t know how to deal with emotions, other than shutting them up within himself and staying silent. He found himself amazed by how Nicholas seemed to feel things as strongly as he did, but then be able to open a door on those feelings and let them go. It was true that after they’d punched each other, Nicholas hadn’t seemed to bear a grudge.

  It was slightly worrying, to think of how many bad experiences Nicholas must have had to be able to dismiss them so easily. Seiji didn’t enjoy thinking about that. It would be better if Nicholas had no bad experiences in the future.

  Seiji cleared his throat. “I don’t think you should have said you wouldn’t leave me at a party, then gone away.”

  “You had all those cool European fencers to talk to, though. I was just standing around looking dumb.”

  I wanted you to stay with me, Seiji thought, I didn’t want to be alone with Jesse. But he couldn’t tell Nicholas that, couldn’t risk having to explain why. Instead he said,
“I prefer it when you are standing around looking dumb.”

  Nicholas grinned. “I didn’t know you’d mind if I left. I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”

  That didn’t seem fair. Nicholas hadn’t been entirely at fault.

  “An apology is… not necessary,” said Seiji. “I was in a bad temper because of a deal I made with Jesse.”

  Nicholas frowned. “What deal?”

  He probably shouldn’t talk about his and Jesse’s rule-breaking plan out in the open.

  “Come with me to our room. I will explain,” said Seiji, and led the way into their stone cottage.

  There was a worn carpet covered in fleurs-de-lis on the stairs, which muffled their footsteps.

  “I hope you didn’t waste the day and paid careful attention to your training,” Seiji told Nicholas.

  “Yeah, I’m learning a lot,” claimed Nicholas, scrambling onto his bed. He didn’t even seem to notice he was messing up the covers. “Coach and I talked back at Kings Row, about how I needed to work to learn the basics all over again, and I’ve really started putting in the work now. I think I… haven’t admitted to myself, for a while… you know, how far behind everyone else I was. I knew it, but I didn’t wanna know it. The thing is, I had a coach before our coach. He was named Coach Joe. He wasn’t a great coach, but he was nice to me. I, uh… loved him, you know?”

  It was bizarre how Nicholas could just say something like that, talking about a man who wasn’t even his father.

  “I know,” admitted Seiji.

  “I didn’t want to think badly of him. But he taught me some stuff that was wrong, and I have to unlearn it,” said Nicholas. “Learning moves isn’t easy, but unlearning what you thought you knew is the toughest. Still, I think I’m getting the hang of it. I’ll show you tomorrow. Now, tell me what you’ve been doing at training camp! What’s all this talk about a deal with Jesse Coste?”

  Seiji told him. How Jesse had challenged him to a match, and the bargain they’d made. He told Nicholas what he had to lose.

  “If I lose the match, I said I’d leave Kings Row and go to Exton,” Seiji explained. “And I don’t want to go to Exton.”