Nicholas’s face lit like a sunrise over the sea. “You don’t?”
“Maybe I should,” said Seiji. “Their fencing team is better. It makes sense to go to Exton. But… I don’t want to.”
Nicholas leaned forward eagerly. “Because deep down you know we can win the state championships, and that you and I are going to be great fencing partners?”
“No,” said Seiji. “You’re bad at fencing.”
“I’m getting better—”
“That’s not the issue right now, Nicholas! I made this deal. I had to, or Jesse would have thought I was scared of facing him.”
“So, okay, here’s the plan. You’re gonna beat him.”
Nicholas spoke with total confidence. Certainty came easily to Nicholas. Seiji wasn’t sure how. Seiji didn’t even like talking to strangers, but Nicholas could swagger through a whole strange world and face it down. Seiji wished he could be that way, but he wasn’t.
Like the captain had said, Nicholas was brave.
“It’s not that simple,” Seiji said, speaking with a sharpness Nicholas didn’t deserve, in an effort to hide his doubts. “How are we even going to get into the salle d’armes at night to have the match?”
Perhaps that was a way out, having the coaches catch and stop them. That didn’t seem fair, though. It didn’t seem brave. Seiji should try his best to keep his word.
“Huh,” said Nicholas. “I think I can help you out there.”
Seiji frowned. “How?”
“Well. You might’ve heard some guys at Kings Row hinting that I’m a delinquent.”
“I would never think you were a delinquent just because you’re socioeconomically disadvantaged, Nicholas,” Seiji assured him.
“Yeah, I appreciate that, Seiji,” said Nicholas, shoving Seiji’s shoulder gently with his own in the way Nicholas did when he was pleased. “But I actually am kind of a delinquent?”
“Are you?” Seiji asked, alarmed.
“Well, I don’t steal cars or anything!”
“I should hope not!” Seiji exclaimed.
There could not be any grand theft auto. If Nicholas needed a car, Seiji could get him one.
Nicholas shrugged. “I’ve only done, like, small delinquent things. Tiny bit of shoplifting. Slight vandalism.”
“Nicholas!”
“Just, like, spray-painting walls. It’s artistic, in a way—”
“Nicholas, you deface public property? I cannot believe my ears—”
“One fire, but it was small and accidental—”
“There must be no more fires!”
“And trespassing,” admitted Nicholas. “I may have broken into Coach Joe’s gym one time… or twenty.”
“I thought you said you were fond of the man!”
Seiji wouldn’t have been fond of any trainer who taught him badly, but Nicholas had an affectionate nature. He even liked Seiji, and nobody else did. Seiji wished Nicholas would stop being a criminal with a heart of gold, though. If Nicholas was arrested for committing crimes, it would make international travel for fencing tournaments complicated.
“See, sometimes Coach Joe would get tired in the mornings, or sleep the whole day away with a hangover, you know?” said Nicholas, as if it was normal for adults to be wildly irresponsible around him. “And I wanted to fence. So I’d have to find a way inside the gym.”
Seiji relaxed. “If it’s for fencing then it’s all right.”
“Yeah, exactly,” said Nicholas. “My criminal skills are, like, at your service. If you need to fence Jesse tomorrow night, I’ll sneak you out.”
It made no real difference to Seiji’s circumstances that he and Nicholas were no longer in a fight. Seiji would still have to leave Kings Row if he lost to Jesse again. He was disproportionally pleased about not being in a fight with Nicholas anymore, just the same.
“Thank you, Nicholas.”
Seiji meant everything he said, but he meant that particularly.
Nicholas settled, cross-legged on the bed and grinning, face bright with mischief as night drew in over the Riviera. “Sure. I’m a delinquent, and I’ve heard you’ve got an ice-cold mind for strategy. We’re a team.”
29 HARVARD
Harvard had to be reasonable and keep it together. He chatted with some new fencers, trained with them, and tried to make Coach proud. Several people mentioned the match against Bastien with pitying looks that said it was obvious Harvard had no chance.
That was so intimidating that Harvard gave up on international cooperation and went to sit and eat with his team. Bobby was pining because Dante had gone somewhere. Nicholas seemed in a state of consternation about Seiji’s absence. Harvard wondered if Nicholas and Seiji’d had another fistfight.
Melodie, the French blonde who’d taken such a shine to Eugene, was sitting with them so that she and Eugene could have an intense, passionate discussion about the protein content of their meal and the delicious sacrifices that had to be made to conform with workout plans. Melodie delivered a speech about macro calculations.
“No pain, no gains,” Eugene declared in a wise voice, then made grabby hands across the table. “La bread garlique!”
La bread garlique? Melodie must really like Eugene, because she only gave a small shudder. Nicholas passed the garlic bread with the air of one pleased to have understood a snippet of French.
Melodie turned her attention away from this painful subject and toward Harvard. “So, you and Bastien are going to have a match. I am rooting for Bastien out of personal loyalty and patriotism. Also, Bastien is very skilled, so I have placed a small bet. Maman wishes to buy herself a new plastron.”
“I think you’re gonna win, Captain,” spoke up Nicholas. “I’d bet on you if I had any money. Scholarship kid,” he added in an explanatory fashion to Melodie.
“Thanks, Nicholas,” said Harvard. “Melodie’s right, though. Bastien’s really good. I’m just hoping we have a great match. Wouldn’t want to let my team down, right?”
“You could never,” said Eugene, leaning over the table to give Harvard a fist bump.
When Harvard turned back to the table at large, he found Nicholas looking troubled.
“What’s up, Cox?”
“I was just thinking.…You give really good motivational speeches, Captain,” Nicholas said a little shyly. “Like, you tell us we’re the best, and it seems as though you really mean it.”
“I do really mean it,” said Harvard. “You guys are the best.”
Those were just facts. Harvard went to the greatest school, had the most awesome coach, had the most superlatively excellent team, had the most amazing best friend in the wide world. He’d never doubted any of those things until this week. He only wanted to live up to them and worried that he wouldn’t succeed.
“Better than Exton?” Nicholas prompted, and Harvard felt light was shed on the issue of why Nicholas looked so worried and Seiji wasn’t here at all.
“Way better than Exton,” Harvard told him. “Their team has nothing on mine.”
Nicholas nodded earnestly. “You told me once that you know whether or not someone is a loser when you see how they lose.”
“Did I?” asked Harvard. “I’m so wise. Pay more attention to me when I correct your stance during drills.”
That didn’t make Nicholas laugh. He was still looking worried, for some reason.
“Here’s the problem, Captain. You always say great stuff about all of us. Aiden always has to say you’re the best captain. And anyone can tell he really means it. But since he’s not around… We all think so, too. I think so, too. You shouldn’t count yourself out against this Bastien guy.”
“I’m just being realistic,” said Harvard.
“When I had my first match against Seiji,” said Nicholas in the tones of one sharing a highly personal and thrilling memory, “I totally thought I could win. But I lost real bad. Everyone called me Zero for a while. Seiji was a jerk about it, too. Seemed like the whole world wanted me to feel dumb fo
r being overconfident. I get that it was dumb. But I’m not sorry, and I wasn’t wrong. I mean, I was wrong about that one match, obviously. But one day, I’m going to beat Seiji in a match. Then he’ll beat me in another one. Then I’ll beat him twice in a row. It’s gonna be great. I don’t care how many times I lose. Well… I care, but it doesn’t matter. I know I’ll win a match against him one day.”
“That’s a great attitude,” said Harvard. “You’re always right to believe in yourself.”
“What am I gonna do, give up?” Nicholas asked.
“Not you, Nicholas Cox,” Harvard said, amused and touched in equal measure. “Never you.”
“So, you believe in yourself, too, Captain,” said Nicholas.
“I’ll try,” Harvard told him.
“Good. Remember, my nonexistent money’s on you.” Nicholas winked.
“When do you think Dante is getting back?” Bobby burst out. “Does nobody miss him at all?”
Nicholas stared. “Uh, no. I like Dante and all, but it’s been one day.”
Harvard couldn’t help thinking Aiden would’ve made a sarcastic remark at this point.
As Aiden wasn’t there, Harvard said mildly, “Seems like we all miss our friends.”
The sentence had slipped out without Harvard thinking to apply it to himself, but once he said it he was struck silent, thinking about how much he missed his friend.
At afternoon training, Harvard couldn’t even take pride in how much better Nicholas was doing, or even how much he himself was learning. Aiden wasn’t there, and what should have been a shining experience was ashes without him.
As the sun slid down and dyed the white mountains the color of flame, Harvard didn’t have the heart to spend time with Arune and his new friends or even with his team. He walked into his room and started when he found Aiden already there. Aiden had his hair in a messy bun and was wearing his own Kings Row hoodie with jeans. He was as dressed down as Aiden ever got.
Far more alarmingly, his bags were packed, fencing equipment in one bag, open suitcase showing clothes folded within.
“Hey, Harvard,” Aiden said quietly. “Can we talk?”
“Oh! Yeah, of course.”
He went over to Aiden immediately, without even thinking. Then panic at the thought of getting close hit Harvard like a bird hitting a windowpane. Harvard slammed to a halt and chewed on his lip. Aiden patted the bed beside him. Harvard sat with care on the very edge of Aiden’s bed.
Aiden watched him sit, his mouth twisting. “Right. I wanted to say—sorry, for last night.”
Which part of it? Harvard would have asked… if things had been normal between them. He made it a policy not to let Aiden get away with everything, but things were a long way from normal.
“No big deal,” said Harvard, and watched Aiden’s mouth twist again.
What was he supposed to say? Oh, it’s fine that you kissed another boy to punish me for interfering in your life. Even though it was mean and made me suspect you’re aware I have feelings for you that you don’t return?
No. No way. If Aiden knew, Harvard didn’t want to know.
“You were right,” Aiden continued. “You said if I didn’t stop acting out, there would be real consequences. I’m out of Camp Menton, and I’m out of Kings Row. You probably don’t care, since you’re done believing in me and all, but I thought you should know.”
For a moment, the wash of horror and loss was so profound, Harvard couldn’t see. But then his vision cleared, and he saw Aiden’s face. Once again, he had the strongest, strangest impression that Aiden was suffering.
He couldn’t make it harder for Aiden to go.
He could give Aiden this much truth, at least.
“Hey,” offered Harvard. “I’m so sorry for what I said.”
“For what?” Aiden sounded lost.
“I was mad about the way you’ve been acting lately. I didn’t mean it. I could never stop believing in you, Aiden. I wouldn’t know how. Even if you do leave Kings Row, you’ll still be my best friend.”
Aiden didn’t even seem pleased to hear it. He only nodded, as if he were accepting a truth he was well aware of, wayward locks of hair tumbling down into his eyes. He blinked and looked through the casement window at the darkness over the lemon trees.
“Even if I do leave Kings Row,” Aiden said, “I’ll still be your best friend. If that’s what you want me to be.”
“What do you want, Aiden?” asked Harvard, and saw Aiden startle slightly. “Do you want to leave Kings Row?”
“I think it might be for the best,” said Aiden. “Even if it hurts right now. Like when I had my growth spurt, and I used to get those pains in my legs. Maybe me going will be like growing up.”
So Aiden did want to go. Aiden thought it would be for the best.
Harvard said, “I only want the best for you.”
Aiden burst out, “My father has a yacht in Menton harbor. I’m staying until camp’s over and am holding an after-party on the yacht. Come. If—if you want.”
The memory of yesterday, of watching Aiden kiss someone else with slow, thorough abandon up against a tree, came flooding back. Harvard wasn’t signing up for that again. He really might lose his mind and do something unforgivable.
“Doesn’t really sound like my scene,” said Harvard. “I hope you have fun.”
The strange smile on Aiden’s face made Harvard feel sick. “I’m sure I will.”
And Harvard knew what that meant, but he had no right to be bothered by Aiden messing around with guys. He’d never had the right. It didn’t matter how much he hated the very thought. It would have been massively unfair to Aiden to show that Harvard minded.
“So—we’re okay,” continued Aiden, still in that soft, worn voice. “I didn’t want to leave Kings Row… without us being okay.”
“We’re okay,” said Harvard. “We’re whatever you want.”
Aiden’s mouth twisted for a single sharp moment, then he curled his lips into a smile and scoffed slightly. “Sure.”
“I mean it,” said Harvard. “Come here.”
He’d never been great with words, no matter what Nicholas thought. He wasn’t witty like Aiden or wise like Coach. He’d always reached out, taken comforting hold of his teammates’ shoulders, hugged his mom or his dad so each of them could be sure of the other’s warmth. He’d thrown an arm around Aiden’s shoulders, close and protective and above all else affectionate, a thousand times. Once he had hold of Aiden, the world seemed a better and brighter place. Holding Aiden had been one of his favorite things.
But everything was different now.
He put an arm around Aiden, drew in his body, and instantly realized what a mistake he’d made. What used to feel warm and safe now felt like a lightning strike along Harvard’s spine rather than in the sky. Aiden’s eyes met his own, startled, eyes gone wide and lashes flickering, almost as though he was afraid. They were both leaning into each other already, and both turned their heads slightly, and their lips met. Almost by accident.
The kiss was gentle as light on water, and it felt like light itself turned solid, radiance becoming something Harvard could touch.
Nearly as soon as it began, Harvard jerked back. “Sorry!”
It was his fault. He was the one who had screwed up their friendship, and who couldn’t seem to make it right. And now he was running out of chances.
“I—no, I’m sorry,” muttered Aiden, to whom kisses meant nothing, who might have just been offering out of pity what Harvard so obviously and pathetically wanted. Harvard didn’t want to hear it.
“You know what?” Harvard said. “Nobody needs to be sorry. Nothing happened.”
Aiden offered Harvard a strained smile. “Right. Nothing.”
The two separated and silently got ready for bed. Harvard tried to put the kiss out of his mind, but it swam to the front of his brain as he lay in the dark. Nothing happened, he repeated to himself once again. Harvard couldn’t sleep, because he kept thinking ab
out what hadn’t happened.
He’d never been the one who had trouble sleeping before.
Other people believed everything Aiden did was graceful, but Harvard knew Aiden was graceless in slumber. He had insomnia. He was always pestering Harvard to bore him to sleep, would complain without cease when Harvard woke him in the mornings, and yet never set an alarm to wake himself up. Aiden in the morning was cranky and high-maintenance and too sleepy to be charming about it.
Harvard used to love watching Aiden wake up in the mornings and not know why he loved it. Now he rolled over and looked at Aiden sleeping in his narrow, distant bed against the farthest wall, arm outflung from under rumpled sheets, hair bright chaos, and everything about the sight made Harvard’s chest ache. It had been better not to know.
He realized now why people said at sea to express feeling bewildered and lost, nothing but mysterious distance all around them with nobody else in sight and only fear of what might be to come.
Aiden was only across the room, a brief expanse of moon-silvered floor all that separated them, but it seemed like the Mediterranean.
30 SEIJI
Seiji woke in the early morning, resisted the eternal temptation to use the shower curtain to smother Nicholas in his sleep for snoring, and walked outside. The sky had paled from dark gray to almost white, still nowhere close to blue. Seiji took his phone out of his pocket, frowned at the screen, and thought about calling his father.
Jesse’s parents and Seiji’s parents had been friends once, in the way Seiji had heard many parents were friends. They got together and talked about their children. Whenever they met, Jesse’s mother and Seiji’s mother would play a game of who could be most coldly polite. Seiji’s mother always won. She was very gifted in that way.
She is undoubtedly a genius in the boardroom, but when it comes to social situations, a moment in that woman’s company is like being stabbed in the heart with an icicle, someone had said in the society pages once. Seiji’s father had read it aloud to his mother, and she’d smiled. Seiji’s father was the only one who could make her smile.
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