Coach’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll drop you from the team.”
Aiden refused to show weakness.
“Easy come, easy go. Replace me with Eugene. Then burst into tears every time you imagine me in his place.”
“I’ll try to be strong.” Coach’s voice was dry. “Run along, Aiden.”
Weird. Aiden had been pretty sure she was bluffing. He felt a pang at the thought of losing fencing, sharper than he would’ve thought. He couldn’t help remembering the early days of fencing lessons, when he started to move in a way that was graceful rather than awkward. Fencing had taught him a new way of existing in the world. Fencing wasn’t a person. Aiden hadn’t thought he could ever lose fencing.
Harvard was in all his memories of fencing, as he was in every memory that mattered, his face luminous and his voice warm as he said, We’ll be on the same team, always.
With fervor that surprised him, Aiden wanted to ask Coach to reconsider, but he couldn’t let her win. He gave her a lazy salute, then ran his saluting hand through his long hair, which he usually kept in a ponytail.
“It’s been real, Coach.”
He was at the door when Coach said: “I’ll also be replacing you as Harvard’s roommate. With Eugene.”
The whole world went still, and Aiden with it.
Aiden froze with his hand on the doorknob. “Excuse me. What?”
“It will be an opportunity for Harvard and Eugene to bond as teammates!” said Coach. “Like Seiji and Nicholas. They’re roommates, and lately I think they’ve been connecting.”
Aiden turned and snarled: “I found Seiji and Nicholas trying to murder each other in a supply closet last week!”
“I’m sure that was part of the bonding process,” Coach said airily. “Well, ta-ta, Aiden!” She wiggled her fingers at him. “It’s been real.”
Aiden’s vision blurred as he tried not to panic. The posters on the walls swam before him. He felt surrounded by fuzzy, dancing swords. That was naturally unsettling.
“Don’t worry,” Coach added. “I’m positive you can find some other boy to be your roommate.”
“I don’t want another roommate!”
Aiden paused, taking a deep breath. He was shouting. He didn’t let himself shout. It wasn’t cool. The ring of his own voice echoed in his ears like the remembered sound of people having fights downstairs. The kind of fights that ended in somebody leaving forever.
“Don’t you?” Coach shrugged. “Guess you’ll be participating in these exercises.”
Coach’s smile was smug. She was doing this on purpose. The detached part of Aiden, lounging in the back of his own mind, admired her play. It was important to know your opponent’s weak points.
“If you try making me do trust falls with Nicholas, Seiji, or Eugene, goodbye team!” warned Aiden. “There will be fatalities.”
“Fair enough,” said Coach, benevolent in victory. “I’m a reasonable woman. I’m prepared to compromise. If you swear to me you will attend every match we have this year, and if you write an essay about your childhood to share with the team next week, and if you attend the sessions and the team bonfire, then you can stay. On the team. With your roommate. Deal?”
Aiden’s soul writhed like a fish on a hook. He didn’t want to participate in team bonding or let Coach win. He didn’t want to write an essay on the awful, pathetic times of his childhood. He tried to think of a way to keep his dignity.
The office’s picture window showed leaves golden as falling stars before Aiden’s eyes. Clear as though the window were a photograph, Aiden could see his first day at Kings Row, walking on the smooth green grass of the quad under the oak trees. He could feel again the swift, hard beat of his heart as he worked up the nerve to ask Harvard a question. Aiden’s father had suggested bigger, even more elite schools, but Harvard had picked this rambling redbrick place of deep woods and narrow lanes, and he wanted Aiden to be his roommate. Aiden loved Kings Row, as he loved fencing, because Harvard had chosen it for them.
His room at Kings Row was home. He wouldn’t give it up.
“Deal or no deal?” After a pause, Coach called out, “Harvard! I’m going to need you to get Eugene.”
“Fine!” Aiden snapped. “Deal.”
Coach was smiling. Aiden wasn’t.
It was Aiden’s policy not to care much about anyone or anything. If Aiden knew one thing for sure, he knew that the person who cared more always lost.
This time, Aiden had lost.
2: HARVARD
Harvard was worried about his team. Most of all, he was worried about Aiden.
Harvard always worried the most about Aiden, but right now he had new reasons. Harvard was standing in the hall, leaning against the ebony paneling and listening to the muffled sound of voices behind the door, Aiden’s easy cadence unmistakable. But then Aiden had gone quiet. Aiden hardly ever went quiet. When he did, it was a very bad sign. Harvard wondered if he should go back inside.
Just then, the rest of the team showed up and distracted him. Seiji was leading the charge, heading for Coach’s door like a guided missile in a crisply ironed uniform.
“I wish to speak to Coach further about this absurd team bonding idea. It has been haunting me all day,” said Seiji, just as Nicholas Cox checked Seiji’s stride by grabbing on to his sleeve. “Release me, Nicholas!”
“Nope,” Nicholas said.
He and Seiji were like that sometimes. Nicholas grinned while Seiji glared, and Eugene tried to creep up behind Harvard so he could listen at the door. Eugene was a big guy. His sneaking was not subtle.
“Seiji, Coach Williams is talking to Aiden right now,” Harvard said, trying to calm the constantly troubled waters between their star fencer and their scholarship kid. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
Seiji’s almost-black eyes narrowed. “Captain, it’s insanity to be wasting time forming human connections when we should be fencing.”
Harvard liked Seiji, but he was very intense. He intimidated many of the other students at Kings Row. He didn’t appear to intimidate Nicholas significantly, though.
Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Team bonding is gonna be cool. You just don’t wanna do it because it means talking to people.”
“Exactly,” said Seiji. “I’m not temperamentally suited to bonding, and I won’t do it.”
Harvard tried to speak reasonably, as was his job as captain. He also made a gesture to Nicholas to tuck in his shirt. As usual, Nicholas was breaking every rule of the dress code.
“Coach thinks this is our best shot at winning the state championship. We’ve never even come close to the finals, not since Robert Coste was a student. When we go up against Exton, we have to be the best team we can be if we’re going to have any chance of beating them.”
At the mention of Robert Coste, both Seiji and Nicholas jolted as though electrified. Harvard wasn’t sure why Nicholas would care about Robert Coste. Maybe he was being sympathetic to his roommate. That was nice. Harvard gave him an encouraging nod.
“Oh, I’m going to beat Exton,” said Seiji, his voice deadly calm. “Tomorrow I will explain to the coach that I can do it on my own.”