“Aw, Coach, he’s so cute and little!”
Aiden sneaked a glance over at Harvard’s glowing face, and then smiled to himself. Harvard really got a kick out of kids. He also secretly collected videos of kittens and puppies being friends.
Suddenly, Coach slammed her hand down on the desk. Harvard laid Coach’s phone down discreetly beside it.
“The reason I wanted to talk to the whole team in turn was to say you all have to do better,” said Coach. “You hardly ever practice, Aiden. Nicholas choked during tryouts. Eugene choked against MLC. Seiji choked in his tryout against you.”
Aiden snickered.
“I know I should do better,” murmured Harvard. “I’ve been letting everyone down as captain.”
Aiden stopped snickering and lifted his eyes to heaven. There was another picture of a saber taped to the ceiling.
“No, you haven’t!” Aiden snapped. “You’re an angel of a captain, and everyone is thrilled you’re here.”
“I do have a bone to pick with you, Captain. But stop lurking and go,” said Coach. “I will speak with you in private later. For now, leave Aiden to me.”
Harvard winced and nodded. Aiden sat bolt upright.
“Why would Harvard leave me?”
He found Coach’s smile frankly sinister. “I asked him to bring you because I want to talk to you alone.”
“It would be wrong to bring me to this place and desert me,” said Aiden, but Harvard was already making for the door. He cast an apologetic look over his shoulder at Aiden as he went, but Aiden was not appeased. “You’re betraying me like this? I can’t believe it. I thought you loved me!”
“I do love you, buddy,” said Harvard. “But I am betraying you, yeah. Coach’s orders. Captain’s gotta do what a captain’s gotta do.”
He waved goodbye and gave Aiden a mischievous grin. Since Harvard was a traitor, Aiden didn’t wave back and only half returned the grin.
The door closed after Harvard, and the room seemed instantly darker. Aiden leaned back in his chair and sulked. Insouciantly, of course.
Coach was staring at him from across the desk. She’d steepled her fingers. Maybe she hadn’t got the memo that only evil masterminds steepled their fingers.
“Aiden, Aiden, Aiden.”
“Coach, Coach, Coach,” Aiden responded.
“Are you aware we won our first team victory against a rival school last week?”
“Sure am,” said Aiden. “Many congratulations.”
“But you weren’t actually at the match to help us win, or even to cheer your teammates on to victory?”
“Sure wasn’t,” said Aiden. “Many apologies. I had plans that couldn’t be put off. They were ridiculously good-looking plans.”
Coach seemed unimpressed by this information. Aiden was getting the feeling she might be a tiny bit annoyed with him.
“Kings Row has never won the state championship,” Coach announced. “Do you know when we last reached the finals?”
“In the Jurassic period?” Aiden hazarded.
Coach didn’t laugh. Harvard would have. As ever when Harvard wasn’t there, Aiden wished he was.
“Kings Row reached the finals in 1979 but ultimately didn’t win, despite having Robert Coste—a legend who went on to win Olympic gold. Why do you think we didn’t win that year?”
Aiden shrugged. “Robert Coste had food poisoning?”
Coach regarded Aiden sternly.
“He was distracted by someone hot?” Aiden guessed. Coach’s stern aspect only increased. “I don’t know. Give me a clue.”
It was interesting Coach should bring up Robert Coste, Kings Row’s most famous alumnus. Robert Coste hadn’t sent his son to his alma mater. Jesse Coste had gone to Exton, the better, shinier school where he was now the star of a better, shinier fencing team. And Jesse’s former partner, Seiji Katayama, had thrown it all away to come to Kings Row for reasons nobody understood.
Aiden could probably work them out, but he didn’t care that much.
He’d once needled Seiji about Jesse Coste, in order to throw off Seiji and win a match. It had worked. There were no hard feelings on Aiden’s side, but Aiden suspected Seiji held it against him. That was why the phrase “sore loser” existed. Losers were the ones who got hurt.
Coach tilted her head to scrutinize Aiden in a way he found unsettling. Mellow afternoon light caught the silver glints starting in Coach’s hair.
“Kings Row didn’t win, because one genius fencer is not enough to win a team match,” said Coach. “If we want to win the state championships, we have to be the best team we can be. Right now, we’re hardly a team at all. I’ve been seriously thinking our teamwork could use a little, oh, work. Aiden!”
Her snarling his name might’ve made lesser men flinch, but Aiden maintained his lounge unperturbed.
“How many times did you attend our matches last year?”
“To tell you the truth, I never bothered to count.…”
He clearly saw the moment when Coach considered throwing a lamp at his artfully disheveled head. “Zero times, Aiden. That’s how many. Zero times.”
“Now that you mention it,” Aiden murmured, “that does sound right.”
Coach leaned both her elbows on her desk, ever more intent. “This has to change. If we establish stronger bonds as a team, nobody will skip matches or try to win them on their own. For the next few weeks, I’ve decided we must focus on teamwork.”
Aiden nodded politely. He didn’t see why Coach was telling him this, since it couldn’t possibly apply to Aiden. When it came to participation, Aiden simply refused to participate.
Coach expanded on her demented scheme.
“We’re going to do bonding exercises. I’m asking every one of you to write essays on your childhoods, which will be shared with your teammates so you can get to know one another better. I’m going to send you on expeditions. I want you to do trust falls. At the end of the team bonding sessions, we can have a team bonfire.”
Aiden gave the door Harvard had disappeared through a wistful glance. He’d been abandoned in this office, alone with a madwoman who wanted him to bond with freshmen instead of racking up dates.
“I have somebody waiting for me, you know,” he reminded Coach reproachfully. “Somebody hot.”
Coach snorted. “Who?”
“Well, I don’t remember his name at this time,” Aiden admitted, “but I’m sure he’s distraught.”
“Shame,” said Coach. “What do you have to say about these training exercises?”
Aiden leaned back farther in his chair, his slouch going from insouciant to insolent. He understood now that Coach had Seiji on the team, she’d gone wild with ambition to win the state championship. Aiden wished her luck. This didn’t mean he was going to put forth actual effort.
“Quick note on those: I won’t be doing them.”
The corner of Coach’s mouth kicked up. “You think you’re getting out of this that easily, huh?”
“I really do. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful and indolent,” said Aiden. “I mean… I guess you can, but I won’t care. See: indolent.”