Sword Play

by Linda Joy Singleton

  “I can’t wait to hit people,” a boy with a shaved head and gold earring said.

  “Will it hurt?” A middle-aged woman with her auburn hair in a ponytail frowned uneasily.

  Mr. Landreth chuckled and tapped his knuckles on his protective helmet. “Nothing gets through this baby. You can smack it all you want and not feel a thing.”

  “How do we keep score and know who wins?” someone asked.

  “In the sport of fencing, the first one to die loses.”

  A few people looked worried, but then they relaxed when Mr. Landreth chuckled. “No one really dies. It’s all very safe,” he assured. Then he shifted into teaching mode and announced, “Sabers ready? En garde.”

  I spent the next hour showing students how to parry, advance, jump back, lunge, retreat, and hold their saber. Then they paired off with partners and practiced advancing with raised sabers, hitting each other, then retreating. Repeat over and over. Pretty basic stuff.

  Wearing my heavy canvas jacket and peering through my wire mesh helmet felt so natural. The checkered wire mesh made things look fuzzy, but I hardly noticed. I liked having my face hidden; the anonymity boosted my courage.

  My fingers closed firmly around the sword hilt and a wild energy built up inside me. I longed for real competition. Like when I was in Foils.

  I considered challenging Mr. Landreth to a match after class. He was so skillful, I could never win, although I loved to try. Of course if I challenged him, it would be like admitting he was right about fencing being important to me. Too humiliating.

  So I said nothing.

  As I worked with beginners, a kid named Kevin, who was about my sisters’ age, kept asking me for help. I snapped buttons on his jacket, showed him how to hold the saber, found him a new helmet since his was too tight, and offered to be his partner since there were an odd number of students. When his questions got personal (No, I didn’t date younger guys and would not give him my number), I quickly matched him with another partner.

  Then class was over. We lifted our swords in a goodbye salute.

  Reaching up, I removed my helmet and smoothed away loose blond strands.

  What a great workout! My skin was damp with sweat and my adrenaline rushed. I was more breathless than I’d expected, and annoyed with myself for being out of shape.

  I was thinking about starting a fitness routine, when I sensed someone behind me. Before I could look, I felt a poke of a blunted sword tip in my back. Assuming that Kevin or one of the other beginners was messing around, I turned and found myself face-to-face with a fencer my height, wearing full protective gear.

  The unknown fencer lowered his (or her?) saber and said in a muffled voice, “Sabine.”

  “Huh?” I tried to peer through the wire mesh helmet, but all I could see was black hair and a shadowy face. “Do I know you?”

  “I know you.”

  The masked fencer was slim with an athletic build and definitely not a beginner. I suspected it was a guy, but it was hard to tell through the tinted black mesh.

  “Who are you?”

  “Want to find out?”

  “Sure,” I replied, intrigued. I didn’t recognize the voice, but something about the fencer’s stance was familiar. “How?”

  “By fencing.”

  “Can you handle it?” I retorted. “I used to be a pretty good fencer.”

  “I still am good. Can you handle it?”

  “Definitely.”

  So I put my helmet back on, bent my knees, and raised my saber. Then I declared in challenge, “En garde.”

  First of all, competitive fencing isn’t like what you see in the Zorro movies. Clashing swords, jumping around like an acrobat, and slashing until blood gushes—that’s all very dramatic and fun for the movies, but not realistic. Fencing, even with a mysterious stranger who obviously knows who you are but you don’t have a clue who he is, is very civilized with rules of right of way.

  And quick.

  Once a point is scored, fencers stop, retreat, and start over. This all happens in like three seconds. You’d be amazed at how sweaty and exhausting those seconds can be.

  I advanced, thrusting out my sword and going for an offensive strike. But my opponent was ready and parried my blow. Metal clashed. I jumped back, feinting retreat, but then advanced again, this time scoring a hit on his helmet. We returned to our marks, and I slapped my sides and said, “Ready. Fence.” This time my opponent scored, hitting me on the upper arm.

  Around us, I heard excited murmurs. As I readied to start again, I noticed that Mr. Landreth was watching with an amused smile. Was he rooting for my opponent or me? I also realized that my opponent was a guy; slim, wiry, tight arm muscles, and quick graceful movements.

  Aware of my teacher watching, I struggled to focus and kept my eyes firmly on my opponent. When the next strike came, I parried. My right arm moved deftly, high for fifth position to block a strike, then lunging forward. Sabers clanged, our pace quickened, and intensity mounted. Sweat dripped down my neck and I breathed heavily. But I didn’t drop my gaze, springing forward for another strike and hearing Mr. Landreth call out, “Good one, Sabine!”

  But not good enough.

  My opponent parried, then struck quick and accurate. If this had been a real battle, I’d have a bloody slash on my arm. He scored the final point and I set my saber down in defeat. Game over.

  A new excitement mounted. Now I would find out his identity.

  We met in the middle and I watched while he lifted his helmet. First thing I saw was shiny shoulder-length black hair and sparkling ruby stud earrings. His olive skin gleamed with sweat, and his almond-shaped black eyes twinkled.

  “Vin!” I exclaimed, totally shocked and delighted. Vin had been one of my favorite people in Foils. He wasn’t a macho type like Tony and Derrick, fitting in more with us girls. He was openly gay and had a rowdy sense of humor that made even the most uptight guys comfortable with him.

  “Nice form, but too stiff,” Vin told me. “Clearly you’re out of practice.”

  “I know,” I admitted. “My school didn’t have a fencing program.”

  He looked horrified. “How totally hicksville. You poor girl.”

  “I didn’t mind. I had a lot of great friends there.”

  “So are you back for good?”

  “I’m working on her,” Mr. Landreth put in, coming beside us. He rubbed at his goatee and grinned at me. “How about it, Sabine? If you won’t take lessons, how about a job?”

  “What kind of job?”

  “As my assistant. In exchange for private lessons.”

  “You never offered me a job,” Vin griped.

  “That’s because you have no patience with beginners. A few wanted to quit after your insults.”

  “Insults are character building. I’m giving them a bonus lesson.”

  “You’re incorrigible,” Mr. Landreth murmured. Then he turned back to me. “Seriously, Sabine. You were great with my class. I teach beginners three nights a week and Saturday afternoons. Pick which days work best for you. Do you want the job?”

  I felt cornered, yet flattered, too. It would be wonderful to come here regularly and improve my skills. But this was happening too fast.

  “I’ll have to think about it,” I said.

  “Think yes,” my teacher persisted.

  “I’ll convince her,” Vin said with a wink. He led me over to the benches where he nagged at me to take the job the entire time we put away our equipment. Then he invited me out to lunch at Rosetti’s Pizza.

  When he said “Rosetti’s” I felt a strong shock of déjà vu. Rosetti’s not only made the best pizza, it was the place our group always hung out. We’d sit at a back table, debating about fencing techniques, and munching pizza for hours.

  I’d always sit by Brianne.

  “Come on,” Vin urged, not giving me a chance to refuse.

  So I went with him. It wasn’t until we were entering through the double wood doors of Rosetti’s that
he told me we wouldn’t be alone. And when I saw three familiar faces at the back table, I started to bolt. But Vin anticipated my retreat and parried with a firm grip on my arm as he guided me toward the table.

  “I’m going to kill you,” I hissed at him. “You knew they’d be here.”

  “We hang out almost every Saturday.”

  “You set me up.”

  “A simple thank you will suffice,” he joked.

  “You are so dead.”

  “I love you, too.” He laughed and pushed me forward. For a little guy, Vin had a lot of strength. And I was totally drained of energy as I faced Alphonso, Derrick, and his sister Jennae.

  My heart thudded and I wasn’t sure what to say. When I’d left town, I’d thought I’d never see anyone from Foils again. I hadn’t heard from any of them so assumed they felt the same toward me as Brianne, and expected to be as welcome as an outbreak of zits. So I was startled when Jennae squealed my name, then flew over and smothered me in a hug. Her brother Derrick came over, too, smiling widely. Even Alphonso, who was skinny, tall and shy, offered a sincere, “Wel—Welcome back.”

  “I’m so glad to see you!” Jennae exclaimed. “Sabine. I’ve missed you!”

  “You have?”

  “We all have! I can’t believe you’re really here.”

  “It’s hard for me to believe too.”

  She stepped back to study me, and I was touched to see tears in her eyes. “You’re thinner and different … like older. Mature.”

  “A lot has happened,” I admitted with a hesitant smile.

  “Well, maturity suits you. You look great.”

  “Thanks … you, too.” I wasn’t just saying this out of politeness either. Jennae did look fantastic; large-boned and shapely, with creamy skin and long, straight cinnamon hair. She wore multi-strands of beaded jewelry and her own unique style of layered clothes. She was a motherly type and her big smile wrapped around me like a hug.

  “So where have you been all this time?” Derrick asked. He was a male version of his sister, only his short hair was darker, he stood a head taller and was thirteen months older. They joked about being Irish twins and mostly got along okay, but when they did argue—watch out.

  “I’ve been living with my grandmother on her farm,” I answered.

  “In a totally hicksville town without fencing classes,” Vin added with a shudder as he sat at the bench table. “I don’t know how you stood it.”

  “I loved the farm with all the animals and woods, and especially being with Nona. The school was cool—I made a lot of friends.”

  “Anyone special?” Jennae leaned toward me eagerly. “Like a boyfriend?”

  “Well … yeah.” I paused, not comfortable talking about other guys in front of Derrick since we’d gone out a few times. Of course with a close group like Foils, there was lots of inner dating. It was never serious between Derrick and me. He was one of these guys who only talked about cars, which got boring fast.

  “What’s your guy’s name?” Jennae persisted, and for a moment I was reminded of Penny-Love, who always wanted to know romantic buzz. What was she doing right now? I wondered. Maybe working in Nona’s office and laughing as they discussed new clients? Having a great time without me?

  I glanced up to find Jennae, Vin, Alphonso, and Derrick waiting for my answer. I had to think a minute to remember the question.

  “His name is Josh,” I told them. “He has dark hair and dimples. He’s athletic—he likes sports like track and soccer.”

  “A jock, huh?” Jennae raised her brows. “Does he have a hot body?”

  “Very hot.” I smiled. “But he isn’t all about sports. He’s on the student council and volunteers at hospitals to cheer up sick kids.”

  “Stop already,” Vin said, fanning himself. “This guy sounds unreal.”

  “I never said he was perfect. He has faults, too. He stood me up today.”

  “The jerk!” Jennae frowned.

  “Dump him,” Vin added.

  Derrick raised his hand jokingly. “I’m still available.”

  “Been there, not doing it again. Besides Josh didn’t mean to ditch me.” I quickly explained about Josh’s apprenticeship to a professional stage magician and how he couldn’t miss out on a great opportunity today. “He’ll visit me next weekend.”

  “Well in that case, he’s forgiven,” Jennae said. “You must be miserable having to leave him.”

  “Not just him. I didn’t want to leave Sheridan Valley, but Mom insisted. Otherwise I never would, not after—” I stopped myself. Familiar bitterness swelled in my throat and it was hard to talk.

  “I understand.” Jennae patted my arm soothingly. “And I’m glad you’re back.”

  Then she offered me a slice of pizza.

  Who could refuse Rosetti’s triple cheese, mushroom, and bacon pizza?

  Definitely not me. So I kicked back and enjoyed pizza and conversation. Slipping into old routines felt surreal. Like nothing had changed, yet of course so much had. I wasn’t the same person who had stood by defenselessly while being attacked by vicious rumors. I’d gained confidence and new friendships. Looking around, I realized my old friends had changed, too, in subtle ways.

  I didn’t contribute much to the conversation, preferring to listen and tune into their auras. Jennae radiated like sunshine in her excitement over acing a difficult test and maintaining a 4.0 average so she could apply to a top college. Derrick’s orange-brown aura reminded me of autumn as he boasted about skipping college to work as a mechanic in his uncle’s body shop. Jennae argued that he still needed college.

  “What for?” he retorted. “So I can learn more and earn less?”

  Vin’s vivid rainbow aura flared as he took Jennae’s side. He said only a fool would skip college, then spouted off statistics (which I suspect he made up) about blue-collar jobs versus white-collar jobs.

  With a steady green-blue aura, Alphonso remained neutral as always. He never said much because of his stutter. But when he picked up a sword, it was like watching Clark Kent switching into Superman; with chin lifted high, he moved with skillful confidence. I secretly wondered if his stutter was like Clark Kent’s glasses; a persona to hide his true self.

  Vin, on the other hand, never hid anything. He put it all out there and spoke his mind. After scarfing down the last slice of pizza, he left to order a giant pepperoni. While he was gone, Jennae and Derricks’ light banter turned ugly. They argued over who got to use the car tonight. They called each other words I wouldn’t repeat. Then they glared and stopped talking completely.

  I was trying to think of a way to lighten the mood, when Alphonso tactfully changed the topic. “Hey, Sabine, d—did you hear where Foils is per—performing?”

  “No, I haven’t. Tell me all about it.”

  “At a ren—renaissance fair.” Alphonso said. “We’ll g—go in costumes.”

  I turned to Jennae. “What’s your costume like?”

  “Very cool! Tight pants called breeches and shirts with puffy sleeves and ruffles around the neck.”

  “Fun! And Derrick, are you going in costume, too?”

  He nodded, his mouth pursed as if he wasn’t ready to give up his fight yet.

  But Jennae was warming to the topic. “Vin’s cousin has a costume shop and is renting the costumes at a discount,” she explained. “We’ll act with some faux swords, then switch into our protective gear for performances.”

  “I’m going to do some jousting,” Derrick added.

  “I’d love to see that,” I said.

  “So come watch us,” Vin said as he squeezed in beside me. He reached out to place a plastic yellow order number on the edge of the table. “It’s in two weeks.”

  “Please say you’ll come,” Jennae flashed her dazzling smile at me.

  “Yeah,” her brother added. “You can applaud for us.”

  “I can get a costume for you, too,” Vin bribed. “You’d look great in Renaissance clothes, especially with such long hai
r. There’s lots of cool stuff to do like watch historical recreations, archery competitions, and lots of great food.”

  “I can’t,” I said quickly. “I’ll be busy with Josh every weekend.”

  “Bring him along.”

  I shook my head firmly. “No.”

  “Why not?” Vin sounded puzzled.

  “It would be too weird. I mean, I’m not in Foils anymore.”

  “So what? You may have quit the group, but we’re all still your friends.”

  “Not everyone,” I pointed out.

  “What do you mean?” Jennae sounded hurt.

  “You know.” I shifted uncomfortably on the beach.

  “Actually we don’t know.” Vin regarded me solemnly. “We felt terrible when people at school were dissing you. Then you were gone and didn’t leave a number or address. Your mother wouldn’t tell us. Brianne said you dropped her, too.”

  “I dropped her?” I almost fell off the bench.

  “Didn’t you?” Jennae asked.

  “No. She was the one … ” I paused.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” I shrugged, not wanting to dredge up that awful time. When I’d seen Brianne’s name on the “Kick Sabine Out of School petition,” I hadn’t read any further, afraid to uncover more back stabbers. Then the next day Mom had my suitcases packed and I moved in with Nona. I was through with everything and everyone connected to Arcadia High.

  But now I was finding out Vin, Alphonso, Derrick, and Jennae had never stopped being my friends. Had I been too quick to judge? I had to admit it was good to see them again. Not that it changed anything. I couldn’t risk getting sucked back into my old life. After lunch we’d go our separate ways.

  A thick pepperoni pizza was delivered to our table and we dug in enthusiastically. I kept telling myself I should leave. Then I’d think, this is our last time together so why not hang out a little longer? I loved talking about fencing. It was exhilarating to discuss stuff like the most effective competition blade, favorite helmet styles, and the unfairness of biased referees.

  We were talking about the National Competition when gazes shifted beyond me. The table went silent like a vacuum had sucked out all the air. I heard a choked cry from behind me. Swiveling in my seat, I saw a slim girl with gold highlights woven in short brown hair. Her face was ashen, her gray eyes wide, and her mouth gaping open in shock as she stared at me.