A silence followed, the wind dropping leaves one by one onto the grass. Perhaps he’d praised Eugene in overly glowing terms, but Eugene was a teammate and always friendly.
“He sounds nice.” His father’s tone was doubtful. “Well, I’m an open-minded and modern man. Tell me whatever you have to tell me about Nicholas… and Eugene.…”
“It’s really the whole team,” said Seiji.
On the other end of the line, his father made a strangled noise. Seiji heard him cover the phone and yell out muffled apologies to other golfers.
“Go on,” his father encouraged him after this eventful break in the conversation.
“I want you to sponsor the Kings Row team to go to a prestigious training camp in France,” Seiji said. “Nicholas wishes to go, but he can’t afford it.”
He didn’t like it when Nicholas wasn’t able to have things Nicholas should have. It was as though someone had cheated in a match to gain an unfair advantage, except it seemed as though someone had rigged life to make it easier for them and harder for other people. Seiji disapproved of unfair matches.
“Right,” his father responded cautiously after another and less eventful pause. “Uh, Seiji, why not have me pay for just you and Nicholas to go?”
“Eugene’s poor as well,” Seiji answered. “Not as poor as Nicholas, but his family can’t send him to France.”
“I suppose he has all those brothers and sisters…,” his father murmured.
Seiji had no more to say about Eugene’s family. “More importantly, if you sponsor the whole team, it’s a gesture of support to the school and doesn’t single out Nicholas. He might feel awkward or as though he owed me something if he perceived himself as an object of charity. He has to think this is something that would happen whether he was at Kings Row or not.”
“You’re learning a lot at this school,” said his father.
“I don’t know about that,” said Seiji. “It’s vital for me to have fencers of my own caliber to have practice bouts with, and there isn’t anyone like that at Kings Row. That’s why we must go to Camp Menton.”
And there was the silver lining, gleaming like an épée in the light of their salle. In France, there would be plenty of elite fencers to face. He’d had many excellent matches in France in the past. The only time he’d been so evenly matched in the US had been with…
But Seiji didn’t want to think about Jesse.
His father offered, in a careful manner, “If this fencing camp is so prestigious, will the Exton team be attending as well?”
The fact his father was worrying about that was awful. It made Seiji feel as though he’d left a gap in his defense, so obvious it could be spotted by anyone, and now he was sure to lose.
“Yes,” Seiji said in a clipped voice.
“Jesse’s going to be there.”
That stupid obstruction was back in his throat. Seiji refused to let it interfere with his speech. He kept his voice stern and convincing as he said, “I can handle Jesse.”
That had to be true.
“But you don’t have to ‘handle him.’ You shouldn’t do anything that will hurt you. Winning’s not that important. It’s just—”
“Just a game?” Thinking of Jesse made Seiji’s voice sharper than he’d intended. “You already said that. Why do you enjoy sealing a deal or opening a new factory? It’s not about money. We have enough of that. It’s about winning. You keep score, the same way I do.”
He expected his father to be insulted by the comparison. Instead, he sounded oddly pleased.
“Never thought about it that way,” his father admitted. “Ah well, the child of a hawk is a hawk. I take your point, Seiji. I don’t like losing, either. I only wish… I never want you to feel trapped. You should decide when the victory is important. Don’t let anyone choose your fight for you.”
When his father talked about feeling trapped, Seiji remembered the humiliation of losing against Jesse in that one match where he’d let his feelings get the best of him. Never again.
“I think the Olympic selection committee might choose my match for me,” said Seiji.
Seiji didn’t know why everyone else was always missing the obvious. There were times in life when you had no choice but to fight.
“I’ll let you win this conversation,” his father told him, laughing. “I imagine you win most of them.”
“No, I don’t,” Seiji said gloomily. “Nicholas never listens. He just keeps talking, and he does whatever he wants!”
“I must meet Nicholas someday soon,” Seiji’s dad added.
“Why would you want to do that?” Seiji was baffled. “I really don’t think you’d have much in common.”
“We have you in common,” said his father.
Seiji stared fixedly up at the fall-gold leaves. “About what you were saying earlier.”
His father coughed. “Ah. Yes, some crossed wires there. I can see how a lot of the things I was saying probably didn’t make sense to you.”
At least he knew!
“I just wanted to say I… hold you in high regard as well,” said Seiji. “But I’d rather not talk about it.”
His father’s voice went soft. “All right. Then we won’t. Consider your request granted. I’ll sponsor the team. Enjoy France. I must get back to winning my golf game.”
“I thought it was just a game and it didn’t matter?”
“It is just a game,” said his father. “That I am going to win.”
Seiji found himself giving the phone a small smile after he’d hung up. It was bizarre but oddly nice to think he and his father were alike in some ways. And it was good Nicholas would be pleased about going to France.
Then he did some mental arithmetic about how the travel time to France was going to cut in on his fencing schedule, and it became clear that going to France was a terrible idea. Seiji rushed Nicholas back to the salle and tried to do as many drills as possible.
That night, Seiji lay in his bed on the properly ordered side of the room and frowned over at the yellow ducks on the curtain he’d hung up to keep Nicholas’s chaos away from him. The ducks fluttered in the night, taunting him.
Chaos awaited in France. He would be forced to think about how it had been when he lost his match to Jesse and fled to France because he felt as though he were in exile. He would have to see Jesse at camp as the new captain of the Exton team. Seiji and Jesse had once planned to lead the Exton team to victory together.
Why had he done this? Just because Nicholas wanted to go to Camp Menton. Just because Nicholas hadn’t been trained the way he deserved. Why was it up to Seiji to make that right?
What had Seiji been thinking? He must have lost his mind.
5 NICHOLAS
Coach Williams summoned them to her office again the next morning. This time it was before breakfast, when the rolling green lawn outside the windows was still silver-sheeted with dew. Seiji had only just dragged Nicholas out of bed, and Nicholas was still yawning and tugging his tie into a non-crumpled-leaf shape. He didn’t feel mentally prepared to be in trouble.