Re: you don’t call, you don’t write, you only fence…
Hey Ermie,
I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. Every time I start an email, a kid runs into my office with an emotional crisis and a sword.
You’re right; it feels strange that I’m here and not back home. Of course I want to live closer to you. I miss you all the time. You’re my big sister! I want to meet up for coffee every weekend and help you train Bruno not to eat the potted plants.
But I see something at this school that I haven’t seen in fifteen years of coaching.
You’d love Connecticut if you visited. Kings Row is on a hundred acres, with woods you can get lost in and a lake the boys are strictly forbidden to go near. All the buildings are rambling redbricks from the 1800s, and they still teach Latin. The school was established a century ago to teach boys how to be “proper young gentlemen.” Which meant those young gentlemen, as a natural part of their education, learning the blade.
Trouble is, their team has never won a state fencing championship. It’s been decades since they even got close—decades of boys with dreams, chasing gold they could never win.
But something is different this year.
Yeah, this team is rough. They’ve never fenced together before, and some of them are complete newcomers to the sport. Our captain, Harvard Lee, is solid—he has a heart of gold and is the kind of kid who shoulders everyone’s burdens. But his best friend is the school flirt, Aiden Kane. You may recall him from the times I have screamed into your ear, “Don’t talk to me about Aiden Kane!” Do you know how many boys I’ve seen absolutely wipe out because they’re heartbroken over him?
And then there are the freshmen. Nicholas Cox is a kid who’s had no formal training. He sticks out at this school like a sore thumb. The kids around here don’t know what to do with his undercut hair or his lower-class slang. At the other extreme, there’s Seiji Katayama, the perfect fencer. He’s lived and breathed nothing but the sword since he was five years old. He and Nicholas couldn’t be more different, and when they’re in a room it’s like a cat and a dog forced into a bath together. But on the piste…
… On the piste, they have potential. They all do.
So I’m not coming home. I’m staying at Kings Row, because this year we’re going to win the state championship. I want to see these boys pull together and become a true team. I know they can do it.
They’re good kids. Even Aiden.
And I have a plan to prove it.…
1: AIDEN
You’re here early.”
Coach Williams scowled at the sight of Aiden and Harvard. She seemed preoccupied, apparently finishing up an email.
“If I’m not wanted, I can go,” drawled Aiden, sauntering through the office. “I don’t wish to be here at all, never mind early. I was on my way to a romantic rendezvous after class when my cruel roommate seized me by the collar and dragged me here against my will.”
Coach’s office was small as far as rooms in Kings Row went, and cozy in a neglected-paperwork way. The office walls, the color of institutional cream, were covered with photos from fencing glory days. One was entirely dominated by a poster of a saber that Aiden thought might be Coach Williams’s celebrity crush. Coach, still in bright red-and-white athletic wear, looked uncomfortable sitting at a desk. She’d clearly rather be standing in the gym ordering the team to do suicide drills and win state championships.
And Aiden would rather be making out! Yet here they were. It was impossible to get what you truly wanted in this life.
Aiden chose one of the chairs in front of the desk, and commenced lounging insouciantly. He looked toward Harvard and made a lazy gesture to the chair beside him.
“Great job dragging Aiden against his will, Harvard,” Coach praised her captain.
Harvard gave her a thumbs-up. “No problem, Coach.”
Aiden kicked him in the ankle for his wanton cruelty. Harvard grinned. After a moment, Aiden let himself grin back.
“I thought this was a team meeting,” Aiden remarked. “Are we so punctual the others aren’t here yet? I am deeply shamed.”
He glanced around in anticipation of seeing the door open. The team was a bit of a mess this year, but they were an entertaining mess. Aiden was mildly surprised they weren’t here already. He expected Nicholas the scholarship kid to be late. Nicholas didn’t really know how to handle himself at Kings Row, any more than Kings Row knew how to handle his awful haircut and worse style. However, brawny Eugene was congenitally enthusiastic, and Aiden doubted Seiji Katayama had ever been late for anything. Seiji, their baby fencing genius, took life far too seriously.
Aiden shrugged. The important member of the team was here with him.
Unquestionably, Harvard was Aiden’s favorite. Even if he did insist on dragging Aiden away from his life of careless playboy ease. Aiden tried to be very dedicated to his life of careless playboy ease.
When Aiden gave Harvard an approving glance for being the best captain, Harvard avoided his eyes. Aiden had known Harvard since they were five. Harvard was marvelous in many ways, but he was not skilled at deception.
“What’s going on, Coach?” Aiden asked with sudden dark suspicion.
“Aiden, Aiden, Aiden,” said Coach. “Can I direct your attention to this? All will be explained, in the fullness of time.”
She was pointing to her bulletin board, which included a list of phrases such as What’s going on, Coach? Anyone who said, or made reference to, any of the bulletin-board phrases had to do two hundred suicides. In their gym, Coach had a whole wall crowded with things people weren’t allowed to say to her. One was Aiden dumped me. It made Aiden very proud.
“I already talked to the rest of the team this morning,” said Coach Williams.
“Before class?” Aiden wrinkled his nose. “You made the poor little freshmen get up at some barbaric hour?”
“Seiji gets up at four every morning for fencing practice.”
Even their coach seemed slightly horrified to report this.
“Seiji’s life is so tragic,” said Aiden. “I hope I never catch work ethic from him.”
Harvard smacked Aiden affectionately on the back of the head.
“Wow, I wish you could. We’re listening, Coach!”
Outside the picture window set high in the wall was a late September afternoon, even the trees golden with promise. The idea of Aiden’s evening shone before him, all starlight and making out. Aiden didn’t know why Harvard insisted on blighting Aiden’s life by being a team player.
Coach raised an eyebrow at Harvard. “And why are you cluttering up my office and interrupting my writing to my sister to see if Bruno has stopped eating plants?”
“Is that a pet?” asked Harvard with real interest.
“You’d think,” said Coach. “Actually, Bruno is my nephew. My sister’s dog, Antoinette, started munching on the geraniums, then the baby started copying her. Any other questions?”
There was the obvious question: Why would anyone name a dog Antoinette and a kid Bruno?
“Can I see a picture of your nephew?” asked Harvard.
Coach, won over by Harvard’s dangerous sincerity, softened and showed Harvard a picture on her phone. Harvard got out of his chair to take the phone and coo over the kid.