Fence

by Sarah Rees Brennan

  “I’m sorry,” Seiji told him.

  Bewilderment descended on Jesse’s face, followed by something even stranger. He almost seemed hopeful.

  “For what?”

  “I know you came to Camp Menton to fence,” said Seiji. “I understand if you feel I wasn’t playing fair.”

  “Seiji,” said Jesse. “I don’t care about this camp at all.”

  Seiji frowned. “Then why did you come here?”

  “You don’t know why?” Jesse asked.

  Like Seiji, perhaps Jesse was trying to appreciate world travel more.

  “To appreciate the French countryside? Menton is sometimes referred to as the Pearl of France,” Seiji said. “Did you know that?”

  “I didn’t know that,” Jesse answered slowly. “Listen—”

  Seiji’s head turned.

  “I can’t. I have to watch Nicholas’s fencing match now, Jesse,” Seiji told him. “We always watch each other’s matches. It’s what friends do.”

  Jesse went silent. Seiji thought perhaps he hadn’t known that rule.

  Nicholas and Marcel assumed en garde position. Then Nicholas went on attack, like he always did, though Marcel’s technique meant that he was able to beat back Nicholas with ease. Nicholas’s form was getting better, Seiji thought with some pride.

  He and Jesse had always dismissed fencers whom they could beat, but now Seiji had watched and given a great deal of thought to how Nicholas fenced. He hadn’t found it wasted time. Dismissing people, Seiji thought now, might have been a mistake.

  Both Marcel and Nicholas moved in that circular space, on a piste that gleamed silver in the moonlight. Marcel was an excellent fencer, who moved with the grace of training so ingrained it was instinct. He scored several points on Nicholas, but Nicholas slid away from some attacks, left-handed and lightning swift.

  “He’s fast,” Jesse admitted grudgingly.

  Seiji leaned forward, elbows on his knees, so he could watch more closely. “Yes,” he agreed distantly, mind on analyzing the match. “Nicholas is the fastest fencer I’ve ever seen.”

  35 NICHOLAS

  All those drills were paying off, Nicholas had to admit as he fought against an amazing fencer in the salle d’armes at the most elite training camp in Europe. He was grateful for both Kings Row and Camp Menton.

  Images from his expanding world flew through his mind as his and Marcel’s épées clashed. Coach pushing him to work on the basics, Harvard believing Nicholas could do it, Eugene’s unfaltering support, Melodie showing him moves she’d learned from both Bastien and Marcel himself. Above all else, over and over, he heard the echo of Seiji’s stern instructions, remembered Seiji’s relentless drive toward perfection, unyielding in the way only Seiji could be.

  He made a space in between breaths to think, even though it might slow him down, and when Marcel made an attack by lunge, Nicholas instructed himself to combine beat and pressure together to deflect the blade. Nicholas slid into attack and scored a point.

  He didn’t score enough points to win, but he made a decent showing. When the match ended, Marcel’s eyebrows were raised.

  “What, Exton boy?” Nicholas asked, trying to sound as indifferent as Aiden.

  “Nothing,” said Marcel, and offered his hand. “Good match. You caught on to some moves really quickly.”

  Nicholas beamed and shook. “Yeah, soon enough I’ll be the best. Next time we fence, I’ll beat you.”

  “We’ll see,” said Marcel skeptically. “Anyway, you’re all right, for a beginner.”

  “You’re all right for a friend of Jesse Coste.”

  Marcel’s eyes darted toward Jesse, whose attention was fixed resentfully on Seiji. Marcel appeared to come to a decision.

  “You’re wrong about Jesse,” said Marcel. “There’s a reason he’s the best, and there’s a reason he draws the best fencers to Exton. When we face you at state, you’d better be ready.”

  Nicholas thumped Marcel on the back. “Sorry, buddy. My team’s the best, and we’re gonna win the state championship.”

  Their promising friendship was cut off when Marcel looked disdainfully down his nose at Nicholas.

  “C’est impossible,” he said firmly, then shouldered the bag of equipment and made his way out of the salle d’armes.

  That was as good a way as any to end this. Nicholas turned and made for the stone passageway that would lead them out of the salle d’armes and toward his friends and the party. Then he stopped as Jesse Coste blocked his path.

  “I’m going to fence you one day,” said Jesse.

  “Count on it,” said Nicholas.

  For the first time, Jesse favored Nicholas with one of his golden-boy smiles. “Take all the time you need to learn. Listen to your coach and your captain, attend every training camp you can. Drill with Seiji every day. Reach every bit of your potential. I want you to. I want you to be at your best when I beat you.”

  Nicholas wanted to scoff at Jesse, but his mouth was dry, and he couldn’t laugh. It sounded so plausible, the future Jesse’s words painted. Nicholas could handle Jesse being better than him when he thought of that as a temporary thing.

  The idea that Jesse would always be better, that Seiji would always think so, that his father would always think so, was much harder to bear.

  He and Jesse stood staring at each other until they were knocked apart by Aiden, striding past them and brushing them both off to opposite sides, as though flicking cobwebs off his shoulders.

  “Oh my God, you people had your chance for a big, tense fence-off, and you didn’t take it. Knock it off before I bang your twerp heads together. I’m hosting a glamorous after-party, and I’m going to be dazzling in formal wear, and since I had this bonding experience with all of you, I just want to say”—Aiden took a deep breath—“stay far away from my party. Seriously, I hate your faces.”

  36 HARVARD

  Captain,” said Eugene, “do I look all right?”

  Harvard gave him a fist bump. “You look great.”

  Eugene looked very nervous. He’d said he wasn’t feeling great a while ago, and Harvard had stayed with him since the rest of their team seemed to have vanished somewhere. Now Eugene claimed he’d made a miraculous and total recovery, and was wearing one of Harvard’s dress shirts, which was slightly big on him, and his eyes were darting around. Harvard presumed he was worried about impressing Melodie.

  Nobody else from their team had arrived at the party yet, so it was Harvard’s responsibility to stay by his teammate and provide him with moral support.

  When Melodie appeared, she was wearing something other than fencing whites or jeans for the first time during camp. She was wearing a champagne-colored gown that glimmered in the moonlight as she moved. It was definitely a gown rather than a dress. Eugene appeared to be having trouble breathing.

  “Wow,” Eugene breathed. “You look amazing. Can… we dance now?”

  She hesitated, clearly remembering Eugene’s dancing from before, then relented and smiled. “We can.”

  Eugene started to smile. “Even if I can’t actually waltz?”

  “But of course, Eugene,” said Melodie. “I will simply take the lead.”

  She reached out a hand, rings glimmering in the moonlight, and Eugene took it and let her lead him out onto the dance floor.

  “Are they dating?” asked Nicholas, who had suddenly appeared by Harvard’s side.

  Everyone stared at Nicholas.

  Seiji peered over at Eugene and Melodie. “Now that you mention it, I think they are,” he said. “Good observation, Nicholas.”

  Harvard decided to let it go. No matter what they’d been doing earlier, everyone was at the party to celebrate Harvard’s victory with him now. Everyone, it seemed, except for Aiden. Harvard looked around unobtrusively, but Aiden was nowhere in sight.

  “No doubt Aiden’s having fun at his after-party already,” said Arune, drawing near.

  Obviously, Harvard’s looking around hadn’t been unobtrusiv
e enough.

  “Having an exciting time without the rest of us plebes,” Arune continued. “I wasn’t invited, obviously, so I’m bitter. Does Aiden hate me? He seems to hate me. Not sure why. I never did anything to him.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you,” said Harvard.

  Arune shrugged. “Just thinks he’s better than everyone else, then.”

  Harvard wanted to argue, but he didn’t want to spoil the party. This was their last night at Camp Menton, and his victory celebration. Everybody seemed to be having a good time. Coach Williams was wearing an off-the-shoulder red dress. Possibly to celebrate Harvard’s victory. Possibly to celebrate her winnings. Assistant Coach Lewis’s glasses had almost fallen off her nose when she’d seen the coach.

  Seiji was wearing a suit without a jacket, with the sleeves rolled up. His hair was messier than usual. There was a single lock of black hair falling into his eyes, which was huge for Seiji. Several people at the party were staring in a dazed fashion. Good for Seiji, Harvard thought fondly. Not that the kid was ever going to notice the stunned admirers.

  The camp had only lasted a few days, but there was a lot more mingling now than there had been earlier. The music was louder, the buzz of voices louder still. People were exchanging numbers. Bobby had persuaded Nicholas to dance, saying they would have fun because they would be like a dancing team. On the dance floor, Eugene was slow dancing with Melodie beneath the swaying lights and lemon trees.

  Harvard, sitting at the picnic bench with the MLC guys, smiled down at the fallen leaves.

  Good for Eugene.

  Arune nudged him. “Yeah, that could be you, Harvard.”

  “I—uh,” Harvard stammered. “Eugene and Melodie are both great people, but if you think I have any interest in either of them—”

  “No, I don’t,” said Arune. “Pretty clear you’re hung up on that jerk Aiden.”

  Oh good. It really was as obvious as Harvard had feared. That wasn’t humiliating at all.

  Arune continued, in his helpful, friendly way, totally unaware that it felt as though he were peeling Harvard’s heart with a dull knife. “You’re a good-looking cat, Harvard. And you’re a really decent guy. I’m sure you have all these treasured memories of when Aiden was sweet and little and had that epic crush on you, but those days are gone. You can do better.”

  “Sorry?” Harvard said. “Epic what?”

  The enormity of Arune’s mistake made him laugh a little.

  “Crush,” said Arune.

  Arune’s voice blurred into white static in Harvard’s ears. He could feel his heartbeat hammering in his throat. He felt like someone in a horror movie, his heartbeat speeding up. Something huge and terrible was on the edge of his awareness.

  “Aiden never had a crush on me,” he told Arune firmly, shutting down that ridiculous idea at once.

  Arune just stared. “Pretty sure he did, Harvard.”

  “Trust me, I would know.”

  “I thought you did know!” Arune exclaimed. “Everybody knew! The whole school had bets on it! Maybe it was just that you were the only person in his messed-up life who he could rely on, but he obviously thought you hung the moon, the sun, and all the little stars. The first time I saw you after eight years, I assumed you guys were together because I didn’t realize Aiden was a hot jerk now. Aiden gave you all those valentines—”

  “Friend valentines,” corrected Harvard blankly. He thought back to all the years Aiden had shyly given him valentines, how he would reply with a Thanks, buddy, and Aiden would say it was no problem. The year Aiden stopped giving them to him, Harvard had asked him about it.

  “No valentine this year?” he’d said.

  Aiden had worn a strange, crooked smile and simply replied, “I guess I grew up.”

  “Friend valentines are not a thing!” Arune said, snapping Harvard back to the present. “He sent you postcards every day whenever he went away, to say, Thinking of you.”

  “Yeah, because we’re best friends.”

  “Every day, Harvard?” asked Arune. “Best friends who think of each other every day?”

  “Yes!” Harvard exclaimed desperately.

  He’d never had a best friend other than Aiden, and he thought of Aiden every day. He assumed it was normal best friend behavior.

  But it was like a glass had shattered in his mind. Suddenly, all those moments of best friendship flew through his memories, shining in a new light. Aiden coming to the hospital when they were kids and Harvard’s dad had been sick, Aiden agreeing to go to Kings Row, Aiden asking him to go to the fair. Harvard felt his stomach sink as he remembered when he asked Aiden to help him learn to date. He thought about how careful and measured Aiden had been, how he had said about them dating, “It’s practice for being real. For Neil.” And Harvard had confirmed that it was all for a guy Harvard barely knew and didn’t really like. Harvard had just used Aiden and been wholly oblivious to his feelings.

  “This was like the first date I wanted,” Aiden had confessed after Harvard took him to the fair.

  When Harvard had asked Aiden if he ever had real feelings for anyone, Aiden had said yes, and confessed, “I never said anything to him. But there were things I wanted to say.”

  And then Harvard had told him their practice dating meant nothing.

  Now Harvard’s stomach was churning.

  “I…,” he said weakly.

  “Okay,” Arune said, in a voice Harvard himself had used on Nicholas and Seiji, a voice that meant, This person doesn’t understand how the world works, and there is too much for me to explain. Harvard stared at Arune in outrage. “Not the point. My point was, regardless of what was—extremely obviously—happening in the past, Aiden is now a love ’em and leave ’em without ever learning their names type, but I know this totally nice guy I could fix you up with.”

  “I’m not interested,” Harvard said firmly.

  Harvard knew what he had to do. His stomach still felt as if it were on the open sea, and he felt as if he had been plunged into an ice bath, but he had never been one to back down from taking responsibility.

  “Arune,” Harvard said, “I have to talk to Coach.”

  He got up and left Arune and the MLC guys behind him. He pushed his way across the dance floor, cutting through groups and couples, completely ignoring the annoyed glares he was getting. He was only concerned with the need to get to Coach as soon as possible.

  When he reached her, Coach Williams lifted her cup at him in a toast.

  “Coach, I need to tell you something,” Harvard said.

  “Go ahead, my favorite captain,” she said.

  Harvard blinked. “I’m your only captain.”

  “So, clearly, my favorite. Hey, I don’t want to rain on your victory parade, but as my captain, I was thinking—now that Aiden’s expelled from Kings Row, does Eugene stay reserve or does Nicholas? What’s your advice? I know Eugene has more experience, but I have a good feeling about Nicholas.”

  “That’s what I came here to say.” The words stuck in Harvard’s throat. “I can’t give up on Aiden yet.”

  Not as part of the team. Not as part of Kings Row. He’d thought they would always have that.

  Coach said gently, “I don’t want to, either. I have such high hopes for you guys, you don’t even know. I thought I was really getting through to Aiden, back when we did our team-building exercise, but he’s been a mess ever since the night of the team bonfire.”

  Harvard flinched away from the memory of that night, the night he’d told Aiden that they couldn’t continue with his terrible fake-dating idea. Aiden had agreed. Harvard had been sure Aiden was relieved.

  Looking back on it, he wasn’t sure at all. When he told Aiden, I can’t think of anything worse than falling in love with you, Aiden’s expression had gone blank as a closed door in a wall. The door hadn’t been opened again since that day. Since that moment.

  “I have to be able to trust my team,” Coach continued.

  “You can trust
Aiden,” Harvard said reflexively. “I do. The same way he trusts me.”

  You were the only person in his messed-up life who he could rely on, Arune had said. Terrible guilt consumed Harvard, as though he’d had something precious in his hands and let it drop and fall into deep water.

  Aiden had trusted him, but Harvard had lied to him. He hadn’t wanted anything to change, hadn’t wanted his heart any more broken than it already was. He had been a coward. He hadn’t trusted Aiden, had been afraid Aiden would treat him like everyone else, when Aiden had never treated Harvard that way in his life. Aiden had always made it clear he thought more of Harvard than he did of anyone else.

  Harvard had taken solid ground away from Aiden, and then wondered why Aiden was drowning.

  “You trust him?” asked Coach. “Are you sure?”

  Harvard said, “Yes.”

  There would be no giving up on Aiden, and the way Arune and Coach talked about Harvard was making Harvard deeply uncomfortable. Harvard was sick with guilt. He’d done this, too. He knew better than anyone else how good Aiden was at living down to people’s expectations.

  “There’s been something really wrong ever since that night,” said Coach. “We can’t help Aiden if he won’t talk about it.”

  Harvard didn’t need Aiden to talk about it. Harvard already knew what had happened. Aiden had come to Harvard with trust in his eyes, and Harvard had lied.

  Harvard swallowed. “We keep asking what’s wrong with Aiden. What if we all made a horrible mistake? What if there’s nothing wrong with Aiden? What if there’s something wrong with me?”

  Harvard was the one who had lied when Aiden depended on him to tell the truth. He was the one who’d been doubting and defending himself and acting like a coward, while leaving Aiden at sea.

  Coach Williams’s face was terribly, carefully sympathetic. “Harvard, I know sometimes you feel you’re responsible—”

  “Yeah, and sometimes I am responsible!” said Harvard. “Coach, I have to go. I have to fix this.”

  Coach protested, but for once Harvard wasn’t listening. The party was a blur of gold on black, everyone’s faces indistinct. He couldn’t think about anything else right now.