FenceStriking Distance - Sarah Rees Brennan Page 0,35

important person in his. It couldn’t last.

“Yeah, I have. I don’t know if you can keep things the way they are, but I want you to know this. You’re not messing anything up by being here, Nicholas. You’re not messing anything up by having friends. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Nicholas beamed, a huge stunned smile, as though he hadn’t known before. “Yeah, Captain!”

“I’m glad you’re here. I think we’re lucky to have you at Kings Row.”

He leaned against the wall, giving Nicholas’s shoulder a little nudge.

“I like,” Nicholas said shyly, “being part of the team. Having friends. I’d like to belong here, somehow. Sometimes I feel like I can. I keep thinking if I was just good enough, I could make everything work out. You know?”

Harvard nodded and thought about trying too hard. Supporting his mom, when he felt too overwhelmed and too young to do it right. Supporting Aiden’s relationships like a best friend should, when he secretly felt like doing anything but.

What mattered was being there. What mattered was always doing your best and hoping one day you’d get it right.

Harvard told Nicholas, “I know exactly what you mean.”

His answer made Nicholas turn to him, Nicholas’s face changing as though he could tell how sincerely Harvard meant it. Turning on a dime the way he did sometimes, Nicholas flashed him a grin full of renewed determination.

“I’m gonna get good enough, as fast as I can.”

“I believe in you.”

Nicholas glowed. “You do?”

“I’m your captain. It’s my job.”

“Thanks, Captain,” Nicholas told him.

“Anytime.” Harvard checked his watch. “Except for right now. I’m gonna be late for my date. Gotta go. Please keep working on your retreats.”

“Whoa, you date a lot, don’t you?” Nicholas sounded impressed. “I mean—you must be really popular. That’s cool; I totally get why. Have a great time.”

Harvard wished he was as cool as the freshman imagined he was, but he was glad he’d come to the salle, even if he hadn’t got any practice in.

When he got back to his room, he didn’t immediately start getting ready for his date.

Instead, he produced his essay and crossed out It’s all good now and wrote My dad is better now, but it was really hard at the time. My mom and my best friend got me through.

Then he checked the mirror, shared an expression of nervous agony with his reflection, slid on his new leather jacket he’d bought for practicality because leather protected you best if you wiped out on the roads, and went on his date.

Harvard didn’t want to let down anybody, including himself.

He rode his motorcycle out through the gleaming gates of Kings Row, through the quaint, winding streets of Kingstone, and past the town toward the houses high up in the hills. Streetlights painted an orange trail for him up through the curving road. His mom had given him directions to this guy Neil’s house, and Harvard followed them easily enough to a large white house with ivy growing up the walls, and a porch painted pale green. There was a boy already sitting on the porch steps, messing around with his phone.

His mom had promised him that he would like Neil. She’d said that he was the kind of guy who’d sit with his mom’s friends and act genuinely charming and happy to be there. Harvard hadn’t really understood that. Harvard’s mom was awesome, so who wouldn’t want to hang out with her? But he trusted her recommendation.

Now Harvard leaned forward against the handlebars of his bike, and understood what his mom had meant. The guy sitting on the porch steps had a relaxed air and brown hair that gave the impression of being untidy even though it was neat. He wore a flannel shirt, but a nice one. He’s, Harvard thought, unused to thinking this way but trying it out, cute?

Harvard didn’t experience a lightning strike, wasn’t suddenly certain of who or what he wanted. But he got a good feeling about this. He felt a little surer.

“Wow,” breathed the boy who must be Neil, which was—maybe? Harvard hoped?—a good sign.

Harvard smiled.

“Hey, I’m Harvard. It’s really good to meet you.”

11: SEIJI

Nicholas was angry with him. This was making the midnight feast even more awkward than it was always bound to be.

Seiji wished he were in the salle, but he was sitting in Dante and Bobby’s room feeling uncomfortable instead. Dante, the one with the peculiar cooking hobby, was making pasta sauce over a burner. Bobby, who was very small and enthusiastic, had asked to take