There was a certain tension in the air suddenly. Or perhaps it was only in Nicholas, and so Seiji could feel it all through his own body.
“Unless?” Nicholas asked quietly.
“If Seiji doesn’t want to fence for some ridiculous reason,” said Jesse, “that’s all right. I will lower myself to fence with you. Same terms. If you win, I’ll acknowledge you as a legitimate opponent. If I win, Seiji comes to Exton. Here it is. Your one chance to be taken seriously as a fencer. What do you say?”
There was a long moment with Jesse’s offer hanging like a bright offering in the gloom. Seiji remembered the way he and Jesse had first met. Seiji was used to other kids his age hating him for showing them up, and Jesse had smiled and said he hoped they’d have a good match.
Then and now, Jesse seemed to offer a golden ticket to belonging.
Seiji could see Nicholas was tempted.
Then Nicholas said, “I’ll pass. Stop being gross. Seiji’s my friend. I’m not gonna trade him in like a Pokémon.”
Seiji felt his shoulders ease down a fraction.
Jesse bit out, “I get it. You’re scared, because you know I’ll win.”
Nicholas rolled his eyes. “I’m not scared of losing. Happens to me all the time.”
“Prove it,” challenged Jesse.
Nicholas shrugged. “Okay. Marcel, wanna fence?”
Marcel glanced at Jesse, then sighed. “Sure. Someone should fence around here.”
He picked up the épées lying on the seat beside him and offered one to Nicholas. Nicholas took it with a grin.
Since it appeared he was about to be a spectator to rather than a participant in a match, Seiji went and sat on the seat beside Aiden. Immediately, Aiden slid away from Seiji. He appeared absorbed in a game on his phone that involved cupcakes.
Jesse sat down on the other side of Seiji. Involuntarily, Seiji glanced toward him. He was startled by what he saw. Jesse looked gray as old stone, all his gold hidden under dust.
“I’m sorry,” Seiji told him.
Bewilderment descended on Jesse’s face, followed by something even stranger. He almost seemed hopeful.
“For what?”
“I know you came to Camp Menton to fence,” said Seiji. “I understand if you feel I wasn’t playing fair.”
“Seiji,” said Jesse. “I don’t care about this camp at all.”
Seiji frowned. “Then why did you come here?”
“You don’t know why?” Jesse asked.
Like Seiji, perhaps Jesse was trying to appreciate world travel more.
“To appreciate the French countryside? Menton is sometimes referred to as the Pearl of France,” Seiji said. “Did you know that?”
“I didn’t know that,” Jesse answered slowly. “Listen—”
Seiji’s head turned.
“I can’t. I have to watch Nicholas’s fencing match now, Jesse,” Seiji told him. “We always watch each other’s matches. It’s what friends do.”
Jesse went silent. Seiji thought perhaps he hadn’t known that rule.
Nicholas and Marcel assumed en garde position. Then Nicholas went on attack, like he always did, though Marcel’s technique meant that he was able to beat back Nicholas with ease. Nicholas’s form was getting better, Seiji thought with some pride.
He and Jesse had always dismissed fencers whom they could beat, but now Seiji had watched and given a great deal of thought to how Nicholas fenced. He hadn’t found it wasted time. Dismissing people, Seiji thought now, might have been a mistake.
Both Marcel and Nicholas moved in that circular space, on a piste that gleamed silver in the moonlight. Marcel was an excellent fencer, who moved with the grace of training so ingrained it was instinct. He scored several points on Nicholas, but Nicholas slid away from some attacks, left-handed and lightning swift.
“He’s fast,” Jesse admitted grudgingly.
Seiji leaned forward, elbows on his knees, so he could watch more closely. “Yes,” he agreed distantly, mind on analyzing the match. “Nicholas is the fastest fencer I’ve ever seen.”
35 NICHOLAS
All those drills were paying off, Nicholas had to admit as he fought against an amazing fencer in the salle d’armes at the most elite training camp in Europe. He was grateful for both Kings Row and Camp Menton.
Images from his expanding world flew through his mind as his and Marcel’s épées clashed. Coach pushing him to work on the basics, Harvard believing Nicholas could do it, Eugene’s unfaltering support, Melodie showing him moves she’d learned from both Bastien and Marcel himself. Above all else, over and over, he heard the echo of Seiji’s stern instructions, remembered Seiji’s relentless drive toward perfection, unyielding in the way only Seiji could be.
He made a space in between breaths to think, even though it might slow him down, and when Marcel made an attack by lunge, Nicholas instructed himself to combine beat and pressure together to deflect the blade. Nicholas slid into attack and scored a point.
He didn’t score enough points to win, but he made a decent showing. When the match ended, Marcel’s eyebrows were raised.
“What, Exton boy?” Nicholas asked, trying to sound as indifferent as Aiden.
“Nothing,” said Marcel, and offered his hand. “Good match. You caught on to some moves really quickly.”
Nicholas beamed and shook. “Yeah, soon enough I’ll be the best. Next time we fence, I’ll beat you.”
“We’ll see,” said Marcel skeptically. “Anyway, you’re all right, for a beginner.”
“You’re all right for a friend of Jesse Coste.”
Marcel’s eyes darted toward Jesse, whose attention was fixed resentfully on Seiji. Marcel appeared to come to a decision.
“You’re wrong about Jesse,” said Marcel. “There’s a reason he’s the best, and there’s a reason he draws the best fencers to Exton. When we face you at state, you’d better be ready.”
Nicholas thumped Marcel on the back. “Sorry, buddy. My team’s the best, and we’re gonna win the state championship.”
Their promising friendship was cut off when Marcel looked disdainfully down his nose at Nicholas.
“C’est impossible,” he said firmly, then shouldered the bag of equipment and made his way out of the salle d’armes.
That was as good a way as any to end this. Nicholas turned and made for the stone passageway that would lead them out of the salle d’armes and toward his friends and the party. Then he stopped as Jesse Coste blocked his path.
“I’m going to fence you one day,” said Jesse.
“Count on it,” said Nicholas.
For the first time, Jesse favored Nicholas with one of his golden-boy smiles. “Take all the time you need to learn. Listen to your coach and your captain, attend every training camp you can. Drill with Seiji every day. Reach every bit of your potential. I want you to. I want you to be at your best when I beat you.”
Nicholas wanted to scoff at Jesse, but his mouth was dry, and he couldn’t laugh. It sounded so plausible, the future Jesse’s words painted. Nicholas could handle Jesse being better than him when he thought of that as a temporary thing.