FenceStriking Distance - Sarah Rees Brennan Page 0,44
loser,” said Nicholas, having another lapse where he didn’t understand what words—let alone metaphors—meant. “You didn’t burst into tears and give up fencing. And you didn’t follow Jesse to Exton like a little lamb, the way he was expecting. You came to Kings Row, and you came to fence. You came to fight.”
This view of the matter was so shocking that Seiji said something he’d thought he would never say to Nicholas Cox.
“I suppose…,” said Seiji, “… you’re right.”
Nicholas’s gaze remained fixed on the floor.
“Being rivals shouldn’t be about being someone’s mirror. Both of you get to be real. Neither of you has to break.”
“Sometimes you’re insightful, Nicholas,” said Seiji. Nicholas looked pleased before Seiji added: “I think it’s mainly by accident.”
At that point, Nicholas rolled his eyes and stepped into his side of the room, yanking the curtain closed between them.
Seiji lay back on his pillow, arm behind his head. He supposed he could see what Coach had meant about their fencing bout. Seiji couldn’t be on autopilot with Nicholas, making all the right moves he’d been taught.
Thinking of the way he fought Nicholas, and the way he used to mirror Jesse, something brand-new occurred to Seiji. He couldn’t mirror Nicholas’s moves. Seiji had to make different ones, to adapt to such a wildly different style. He didn’t have the speed to mirror Nicholas. He was fast enough to mirror Jesse’s moves. Which meant… Nicholas was faster than Jesse.
In all other ways, Jesse was infinitely superior. Nicholas could never match up. Nobody could.
But if Nicholas had been trained, maybe he could use his superior speed against Jesse to score a point.
In another world, could Nicholas win against Jesse?
If that was possible, even in another world, could Seiji win against Jesse in this one?
Seiji rolled in bed and stared at a moonbeam cast against the curtain, putting one of the cheerful yellow ducks in the spotlight.
Over the past few months, stewing in the humiliation of feeling defeated and exposed and unworthy, Seiji had grown used to imagining Jesse as unbeatable and unrivaled.
Seiji couldn’t help thinking… if Nicholas could be faster than Jesse, perhaps anybody could be anything at all. What else could Nicholas be?
What else could Seiji be?
Seiji didn’t want them to be stopped from finding out.
14: HARVARD
Aiden was no good at mornings. When they had been younger, Harvard used to call him and act as an alarm clock, urging “Beep, beep, beep” while Aiden made cranky sounds on the other end of the line. Now that Harvard slept in the bed next to Aiden’s, waking him was easier.
It still wasn’t easy, though.
Their beds were pushed close together so they could watch movies in comfort and so Harvard could talk Aiden to sleep on the nights when he had insomnia. Now when he wanted to wake Aiden, Harvard could just reach over and gently shove Aiden’s shoulder.
“Hey. Hey, sleeping beauty. C’mon. Wake up.”
“Never,” Aiden mumbled into his pillow.
“Are you awake?”
Aiden pulled his pillow and half his tawny hair across his face. “I’m hate wake.”
“Let’s return to consciousness just a little more and start putting the words into sentences that make sense,” Harvard encouraged.
Aiden rolled over, emerging from the covers and blinking up at the ceiling. “People who talk sense before noon should be fired from cannons into the sun. Especially on the weekend.”
Harvard, propped up on his pillow, looked indulgently down at Aiden, who was a tangle of limbs and white sheets and long hair. Harvard had always liked this time in the morning, trying to drag Aiden into wakefulness.
It was a chance to have Aiden to himself, and to have the conversation he’d been planning.
“Your behavior has been weird lately,” Harvard let Aiden know. “I have noticed.”
Aiden gave a tiny shrug, the sheet sliding a fraction farther down his bare shoulder. “As opposed to my usual flawless behavior, you mean?”
“Even for you, this has been weird,” Harvard said gently. “I think I know what’s going on with you.”
“Do you?” Aiden said in a distant voice.
Harvard nodded. He’d read all about it in his mom’s magazines.
“When friends get a significant other, they worry that their friend won’t have time for them anymore. But you never need to worry about losing me. We’ll always have bro time.”
“Ugh,” said Aiden, burying his face in the pillow and then pulling the blankets over him and the pillow. “You sound like Eugene. For shame, Harvard!”
Harvard smiled at the lump under the bedding that was Aiden.