Fence

by Sarah Rees Brennan

  Harvard dragged his eyes away and searched the spectators to find a friendly face. He would’ve liked to see Nicholas there to encourage Harvard to believe in himself.

  He couldn’t see Nicholas. He couldn’t see anyone.

  When the time came for his match, he didn’t see many Kings Row students there to cheer him on. Eugene was there, but not Nicholas, nor Seiji. Even Aiden seemed to have disappeared. Harvard could hardly believe it. He felt oddly bereft, as though he were expected to fence without his épée or his plastron. He always had his team to think of.

  A flash of red and white caught his eye. “Go, Harvard!” yelled Coach Williams. “I have money on this, and I don’t want to lose it. Teachers’ salaries are shamefully low!”

  His coach was there to support him, but she didn’t need him to support her. Coach had said to Harvard once, Remember there’s a me in team. There was nobody for Harvard to worry about except himself. There was nothing he could do for his team but be the best fencer he could be.

  There was something almost freeing in that. He took a deep breath of air, finding steadiness in this strange place.

  Well, Harvard thought. Time to find out what he could do.

  He stepped out onto the piste, the steel strips reflecting the evening-sky blue of the domed ceiling.

  Other people were defeated by Aiden all the time. Harvard always beat Aiden. He’d always believed it was because Aiden wouldn’t hurt Harvard on purpose, wouldn’t cut at Harvard with his sharp tongue until Harvard flinched like all the rest, but Aiden said it was because Harvard was always sure with him.

  Perhaps that was true, too. Harvard had always been sure of Aiden, and sure of how they worked together… until this last week.

  Harvard was tired of feeling uncertain.

  Harvard met Bastien attack for attack, lunge for lunge, and saw Bastien’s movements check as he startled. Clearly, he hadn’t expected this from Harvard. Harvard was supposed to be reliable, nice, a good sport, a middle-of-the-road fencer. Harvard knew he hadn’t fenced like this since he’d come to Camp Menton. Maybe Harvard hadn’t fenced like this ever.

  Bastien ran him up and down the strip, but Harvard had plenty of endurance. Bastien was very good, landing the most fluid of attacks imaginable, but Harvard had been learning as much as he could at Camp Menton and practicing at Kings Row with skill-smooth Seiji and lightning-fast Nicholas. Defense had always been his specialty. When Bastien went low, Harvard remembered Seiji’s stern instructions about his low lines. He could defend against any attack Bastien made.

  The points were flying between them, Coach Williams and Coach Robillard both roaring approval and advice. Melodie was yelling encouragement to Bastien like a motivational French banshee, while Eugene yelled even louder for Harvard.

  The points were pretty even. But Harvard couldn’t keep being on defense forever. The trick was not only to defend, but to make a move against Bastien and make it count.

  A captain had to lead by example. This was for his team and for himself. This was how Harvard would prove he was a worthy captain to lead them to victory at the state championships.

  Bastien tried for an attack by lunge, which Harvard used all his skill to parry. Then immediately, without pause for breath or doubt, he went for the riposte, the offensive attack made directly after a parry.

  His riposte was fast, fast enough that Bastien couldn’t counter it. That move was for Nicholas.

  Even with the way Harvard had been fencing throughout the match, Bastien hadn’t expected such instant aggression. Harvard got through his guard and scored the final point.

  He won.

  A buzzing rose in his head as though the electrical current in his jacket had gotten into his blood. He couldn’t quite believe he’d won. The gleam of the state championship trophy seemed closer somehow, like something in Harvard’s future rather than in his dreams.

  Harvard pulled off his mask and emerged, blinking, into what felt like new light. Arune and the MLC guys were cheering wildly. So were several of the other fencers, who Harvard had imagined pitied him. Turned out they simply liked him instead.

  “I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you,” remarked Coach Robillard, but in an approving way, even though Bastien was his son.

  “I always knew he had it in him!” Coach Williams shouted. “Pay up!”

  “Good match,” Harvard told Bastien, and offered his hand to shake.

  As he clasped Harvard’s hand, Bastien inclined his darkly handsome head. “Your coach is right to be proud of you.”

  “Nice that someone believes in me, I guess,” Harvard said.

  Bastien’s mouth pulled out of shape, as though he’d been sampling the fruit on the lemon trees. “Do you know what Aiden whispered to me before the match?”

  Harvard remembered with painful acuteness how Aiden had pulled Bastien in to murmur a lilting lover’s secret in his ear. Suddenly, Harvard’s little triumph felt hollow.

  In the end, what did it matter if Harvard had won some stupid match, something that wasn’t part of any tournament and wouldn’t count toward their hoped-for victory at state? He’d lost Aiden. His best friend would leave Kings Row and would be with a hundred boys like this one, and Harvard had damaged the friendship between them irreparably.

  Then Harvard realized Bastien’s eyes weren’t gloating. They were bleak.

  “Aiden whispered in my ear, ‘You’re going to lose.’”

  Just then, the missing Kings Row students appeared. His team. Nicholas was giving some kind of war cry. Harvard couldn’t make it out, because he couldn’t look away from Aiden, who was smiling directly at him.

  Coach Williams gave Harvard a hug, and the rest took this as their cue to pounce. Nicholas and Eugene both hit Harvard on the back with perhaps too much enthusiasm. Seiji seemed disturbed to be caught in the middle of a group-hug situation. Aiden was laughing.

  “O captain! our captain!” Aiden said in his beautiful voice, low and sweet and mocking.

  Harvard didn’t know where his team had been, but they were here now.

  He just wished he could keep them. He wished he wasn’t losing the most important one.

  33 AIDEN

  Aiden couldn’t believe he was missing out on Harvard’s match to deal with errant freshmen. Yet the freshmen had been mysteriously absent, and Harvard had enough to deal with, so it had been up to Aiden to track them down. And now it was up to Aiden to deal with them.

  He studied the guilty faces of his freshmen and the Exton freshmen, who had nothing to do with him. Aiden crossed his arms and glared them all down.

  “I heard everything. Sneaking off tonight to have a duel, are we? I see my duty clearly. It’s obvious I have to”—Aiden braced himself and sighed and took responsibility—“come with you.”

  Nicholas and Jesse looked oddly similar when they were surprised, their usual swagger collapsing. Aiden supposed Seiji Katayama had a fencing-partner type. It was a toss-up whether Seiji had traded up or traded down, in Aiden’s opinion. Nicholas was a better person, but Jesse had better hair. Maybe it didn’t matter, since nobody was getting any action other than fencing action. Tragic individuals, all three of them.

  Nicholas cleared his throat. “You’re not, uh, gonna stop us?”

  “Nah, I don’t really feel I can stop you from breaking rules without being a huge hypocrite,” said Aiden. “You have no idea how many rules I’ve broken. I couldn’t even tell you about half of them. It would blow your tiny freshman minds. I’m banned from ever returning to Camp Menton, and I’m expelled from Kings Row.”

  “So, you often get caught breaking the rules?” Jesse asked skeptically.

  Aiden shot him an annoyed glance. “No,” he said. “I’ve been off my game lately.”

  Jesse scowled, so Aiden transferred his smile to the other Exton boy, who might be more deserving.

  “I’m—” Aiden began.

  The Exton boy stared back at him. “I’m Marcel Berré. And you’re Aiden Kane,” h
e said. “You dated Alexander Kostansis. He goes to Exton.”

  Aiden blinked. “I dated who?”

  “He told me you ruined his life and crushed his soul!”

  “I’m sorry,” said Aiden, “but you’re going to have to be more specific than that. You’re just describing a random Wednesday for me.”

  Marcel gave him a look that was part fascination and part terror. Jesse’s scowl intensified, and he dragged Marcel protectively away. Aiden walked alongside his freshmen through the lemon trees, trying to think of a way to take that desolate, set expression off Seiji’s face. Harvard made it look so easy, comforting someone, making them believe they were special. Aiden always knew what people were feeling, but Harvard knew how to make them feel better.

  Aiden couldn’t do it Harvard’s way, but perhaps he could use his own talents for good instead of evil for a change. He thought about what he said to people when he was trying to psych them out, so they would flinch during a fencing match and give him the victory, and then tried to reverse the strategy in his mind.

  “Seiji, remember when I mocked you at our fencing tryouts about losing to Jesse?”

  “Of course I recall,” Seiji said distantly. “I fail to see why you’re bringing it up now. It’s not helpful.”

  “I wish to add that you’re a maddening person,” Aiden went on. “It’s why you’re so extremely unpopular. You’re not easy to get along with. You’re difficult and unyielding.”

  “Wow, Aiden,” muttered Nicholas, “that is so mean. I think Seiji is—”

  “So be difficult and unyielding. You’re a disgustingly relentless human being. You don’t let anything stop you. You didn’t let me beat you the second time around. And you won’t let Jesse beat you the second time around, either.” Aiden studied Seiji with some concern. “There. Was that helpful at all, or was I just bullying you?”

  Seiji paused, the fixed expression on his face easing a fraction. “It was slightly helpful bullying. Thank you.”

  Aiden felt a small burst of warmth in his chest. It was possible he and Seiji Katayama were having a nice moment.

  “Are we going to hug?” Aiden asked in dread.

  “Oh, no, thank you,” said Seiji.

  He retreated behind Nicholas, his human shield from society, with obvious horror. Nicholas eyed Aiden in apprehension.

  “Are you gonna try and say something nice to me?” he asked.

  “We both wish Harvard were here right now, huh?” Aiden asked in reply.

  Nicholas nodded. “Yeah.”

  They were on common ground, and that was somewhere to start.

  Aiden shrugged and tried honesty. “If Harvard were here, he’d say something nice, and he’d mean it. He likes you, Nicholas. And that means there has to be something special about you. Even if I can’t see it.”

  Nicholas smiled, sudden and sweet. “Aiden? Back atcha.”

  Aiden found himself surprised. He often measured the world through Harvard’s eyes, but it had never occurred to him to measure himself through Harvard’s eyes and discover he was worthwhile.

  Against his better judgment, he slung an arm around Nicholas’s shoulders. Just then, Nicholas was distracted by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out, checked the screen to see a text from Eugene. He let out a yell of triumph.

  “Eugene says Harvard won his match!”

  “I knew he would,” Aiden said, smiling.

  Nicholas returned Aiden’s smile. “Yeah, I knew, too.”

  “Let’s go congratulate him,” said Aiden. “Then later, my little freshmen, let’s show those Exton boys how we do it at Kings Row.”

  34 SEIJI

  On the way to his match against Jesse, Seiji led the way. He ducked his head under the broad stone lintel of the low, small door of the converted chapel, then walked down the stone corridor toward Camp Menton’s salle. The broad flagstones were worn so smooth they looked like the surface of calm water, but their footsteps echoed on the floor. When they entered the salle d’armes itself, the salle by night was dark as a cave with a monster lurking within it. On the wall was a plaque bearing a silver sculpture of crossed swords, moonlight striking it so that the silver points looked sharply brilliant.

  “Oh, my hair,” murmured Aiden, breaking the silence.

  “Is something in your hair?” Nicholas demanded. “Is it a bat?!”

  “No, I mentioned my hair because it’s beautiful and I believe we should all think about it,” drawled Aiden. “Actually, I got a spiderweb in it when we were walking through the woods at night. While in formal attire.”

  They were all dressed for the party in order to maintain their subterfuge. Seiji had tried doing his hair a little differently, but it had been a failure. Nicholas and Jesse had both given him the same strange look. Now, on top of everything else, Seiji had to bear the knowledge that he looked ridiculous.

  Nicholas took hold of the back of Seiji’s shirt so he could deploy him as a shield against bats at any time. Seiji shot him an annoyed look. Nicholas grinned at him. Privately, Seiji was grateful that Nicholas was distracting him from the icy fear that seemed to be shot all through him, like cold steel next to his bones.

  At least Seiji would never be as ridiculous as Nicholas. That was a comfort.

  Seiji took a deep breath and stared around the salle.

  The seats surrounding them were empty, but it felt as though they were full of people watching Seiji, about to be disappointed. The way Seiji’s father and Jesse’s father had been during the tournament where Seiji messed up because he was scared of letting his father down.

  Seiji recalled his father’s voice, beloved and worried, saying, You should decide when the victory is important. Don’t let anyone choose your fight for you. He remembered Nicholas, talking about how he must painfully unlearn what he’d learned wrong, even though he cared about the person who’d taught the wrong things to him. Don’t play Jesse’s game, Aiden had said, and Seiji thought he understood now.

  He took a deep breath of stone-cold air and announced, “I’m not going to fence you, Jesse.”

  Jesse’s voice was incredulous. “What?”

  “Correction,” said Seiji. “I said I would fence you, and I will. I always keep my word. I will fence you when I want to, in a real match, and not before. Why should you get to choose when we fence? You come to France, and you demand that I fence you, and you set the terms of our bargain. You think you should always get whatever you want. Why should I say How high? when you say Jump? I’m tired of it. I’m not going to do it anymore. And I’m not going to fence you now.”

  Jesse looked so utterly stunned he almost seemed lost, like a kid who’d had his present ripped out of his arms on Christmas Day.

  Marcel went and sagged on the stone seats encircling the theater like a puppet with its strings cut. “After all that!”

  “Strongly agreed, Mordred from Exton,” said Aiden, strolling over to join Marcel and stretching his long legs out in front of him. “That is, I applaud and support your decision, freshman, but couldn’t you have had the epiphany before you put me through all this trouble?”

  “So we broke in, and now nobody’s going to fence,” Marcel murmured, despairing.

  He slid a speculative look toward Aiden.

  “I’m not fencing anyone!” Aiden declared. “I already fenced James.”

  “Jesse,” said Jesse.

  Aiden smirked. “Jesse James?”

  “Jesse Coste.”

  “Settle down, Sundance Kid. I should be at a party right now. You people and your priorities disgust me.”

  Jesse turned to Seiji. “I beat Aiden. And I hear Aiden beat you.”

  Jesse’s eyes reminded Seiji of the match when Jesse had won, avid on Seiji’s face, watching for Seiji to flinch.

  “Yeah, I beat Aiden, too,” Nicholas chimed in, and Jesse’s attention slid away in shock. “At tryouts. Wasn’t that hard. Aiden needs to practice more. Also, people shouldn’t listen to him talk. He does it too much.�
��

  “This doesn’t involve you,” Jesse said. Then a smile woke on his face, sparkling and alluring, and dread coiled in Seiji’s stomach. “Unless…”

  There was a certain tension in the air suddenly. Or perhaps it was only in Nicholas, and so Seiji could feel it all through his own body.

  “Unless?” Nicholas asked quietly.

  “If Seiji doesn’t want to fence for some ridiculous reason,” said Jesse, “that’s all right. I will lower myself to fence with you. Same terms. If you win, I’ll acknowledge you as a legitimate opponent. If I win, Seiji comes to Exton. Here it is. Your one chance to be taken seriously as a fencer. What do you say?”

  There was a long moment with Jesse’s offer hanging like a bright offering in the gloom. Seiji remembered the way he and Jesse had first met. Seiji was used to other kids his age hating him for showing them up, and Jesse had smiled and said he hoped they’d have a good match.

  Then and now, Jesse seemed to offer a golden ticket to belonging.

  Seiji could see Nicholas was tempted.

  Then Nicholas said, “I’ll pass. Stop being gross. Seiji’s my friend. I’m not gonna trade him in like a Pokémon.”

  Seiji felt his shoulders ease down a fraction.

  Jesse bit out, “I get it. You’re scared, because you know I’ll win.”

  Nicholas rolled his eyes. “I’m not scared of losing. Happens to me all the time.”

  “Prove it,” challenged Jesse.

  Nicholas shrugged. “Okay. Marcel, wanna fence?”

  Marcel glanced at Jesse, then sighed. “Sure. Someone should fence around here.”

  He picked up the épées lying on the seat beside him and offered one to Nicholas. Nicholas took it with a grin.

  Since it appeared he was about to be a spectator to rather than a participant in a match, Seiji went and sat on the seat beside Aiden. Immediately, Aiden slid away from Seiji. He appeared absorbed in a game on his phone that involved cupcakes.

  Jesse sat down on the other side of Seiji. Involuntarily, Seiji glanced toward him. He was startled by what he saw. Jesse looked gray as old stone, all his gold hidden under dust.