FenceStriking Distance - Sarah Rees Brennan Page 0,9

he was never fooled again.

Aiden had cried every night for two months after she’d left. Then he’d started school and met Harvard.

Hadn’t Harvard been around, just now? Aiden could’ve sworn he’d come in. Aiden was occupied wrestling with writing and trying not to dwell on Coach’s hideous threat.

Mostly, Aiden found it both useful and amusing to know other people’s weak points. Eugene’s was the fear of letting people down. Seiji’s weak point was his former fencing partner, Jesse Coste. Aiden had used that weak point to needle Seiji and beat him in their tournament. Seiji was a better fencer than Aiden. Seiji should’ve won. Aiden had proved what his father always said was true: Caring was for losers.

Everyone had a weak point. Harvard did, as well. Aiden couldn’t bear to think about it, because Aiden couldn’t bear to think about hurting him.

Harvard was Aiden’s weak point. Coach knew his secret. She knew it would work when she’d threatened to separate them, after even the threat of being removed from the fencing team hadn’t been effective. Aiden had clearly been a lot more obvious and pathetic than he’d realized.

Aiden found himself chewing on a fingernail, stopped, and scowled at himself. What was he doing? He wasn’t a beast of the field.

Where has Harvard wandered off to? Aiden wondered. It wasn’t like him to not be here when Aiden wished for him. Perhaps he’d gone to find someone to deal with this mess.

Aiden swiveled in his chair as he took in the full extent of the situation. Their room was a vortex of paper hearts and flowers and chocolate boxes. It looked as though someone had eaten Valentine’s Day and thrown up everywhere. Aiden didn’t even like Valentine’s Day.

He squinted at his own bed with sudden outrage. He leaped up and began to toss garbage onto the floor until a way was cleared and he could rescue his stuffed bear from the wreckage. Aiden pulled his bear free and began to pick out the cream-cheese frosting matted in his fur. What had possessed some idiot to put red velvet cupcakes spelling out U R SEXY on Aiden’s bed? Aiden already knew he was sexy. There was no need to assault a helpless stuffed animal.

He carried his bear back to the desk with him, and typed: On my first day of school, I met my best friend, Harvard.

Simple as that, the first true thing Aiden had written.

Aiden’s clearest memory of early childhood was his first day of kindergarten.

Some of the other kids had cried. Aiden hadn’t. Crying was better done alone. It felt much worse to cry when there were people around and see them not care. Aiden hadn’t been around other kids much, and hadn’t known exactly what to do with them, but they were more interesting than the toys. Aiden had toys at home. He’d hung back and watched the crying, the teacher trying to calm the riot, and the kid who was trying to help the teacher.

Harvard had been the tallest kid there—and the kindest. He’d gone to every crying kid and told them this was a big change, but he knew they would be brave. He’d had a stuffed bear under his arm and when a tiny girl couldn’t stop sobbing, he’d pretended the bear was giving her a kiss, bumping the little plastic nose against her tearstained cheek. He’d given the girl a smile, warm as the sun, and she’d been helpless to do anything but smile back.

Harvard was the biggest person in any room, even when he was small.

Aiden had followed him around, trailing so close that when Harvard stopped unexpectedly, Aiden walked right into him. Harvard turned, looked down at Aiden’s face, and came immediately to a beautiful but entirely wrong conclusion.

“Oh hey,” were Harvard’s first words to Aiden. “If you like the bear so much, you can have it.”

He’d placed his teddy bear in Aiden’s arms, and then patted Aiden on the shoulder. Aiden had reflexively clutched the bear and stared up in panic at this marvelous boy. He’d tried frantically to think of some way to keep the warm, steady light of Harvard’s attention, and found himself frozen with fear by the impossible magnitude of his ambition. He’d known, he’d known, that Harvard would turn away.

Harvard hadn’t. He’d kept looking at Aiden, then for no good reason at all thrown an arm around Aiden’s skinny shoulders.

“I’m Harvard,” he’d said. “What’s your name?”

“Aiden,” Aiden had squeaked.

“You stay by me, Aiden,” Harvard had told him.

Aiden always

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