2: HARVARD

Harvard was worried about his team. Most of all, he was worried about Aiden.

Harvard always worried the most about Aiden, but right now he had new reasons. Harvard was standing in the hall, leaning against the ebony paneling and listening to the muffled sound of voices behind the door, Aiden’s easy cadence unmistakable. But then Aiden had gone quiet. Aiden hardly ever went quiet. When he did, it was a very bad sign. Harvard wondered if he should go back inside.

Just then, the rest of the team showed up and distracted him. Seiji was leading the charge, heading for Coach’s door like a guided missile in a crisply ironed uniform.

“I wish to speak to Coach further about this absurd team bonding idea. It has been haunting me all day,” said Seiji, just as Nicholas Cox checked Seiji’s stride by grabbing on to his sleeve. “Release me, Nicholas!”

“Nope,” Nicholas said.

He and Seiji were like that sometimes. Nicholas grinned while Seiji glared, and Eugene tried to creep up behind Harvard so he could listen at the door. Eugene was a big guy. His sneaking was not subtle.

“Seiji, Coach Williams is talking to Aiden right now,” Harvard said, trying to calm the constantly troubled waters between their star fencer and their scholarship kid. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

Seiji’s almost-black eyes narrowed. “Captain, it’s insanity to be wasting time forming human connections when we should be fencing.”

Harvard liked Seiji, but he was very intense. He intimidated many of the other students at Kings Row. He didn’t appear to intimidate Nicholas significantly, though.

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Team bonding is gonna be cool. You just don’t wanna do it because it means talking to people.”

“Exactly,” said Seiji. “I’m not temperamentally suited to bonding, and I won’t do it.”

Harvard tried to speak reasonably, as was his job as captain. He also made a gesture to Nicholas to tuck in his shirt. As usual, Nicholas was breaking every rule of the dress code.

“Coach thinks this is our best shot at winning the state championship. We’ve never even come close to the finals, not since Robert Coste was a student. When we go up against Exton, we have to be the best team we can be if we’re going to have any chance of beating them.”

At the mention of Robert Coste, both Seiji and Nicholas jolted as though electrified. Harvard wasn’t sure why Nicholas would care about Robert Coste. Maybe he was being sympathetic to his roommate. That was nice. Harvard gave him an encouraging nod.

“Oh, I’m going to beat Exton,” said Seiji, his voice deadly calm. “Tomorrow I will explain to the coach that I can do it on my own.”

“Wow, Seiji. You need me. I’m your rival,” Nicholas muttered.

“You’re not my rival,” Seiji muttered back. “You’re very bad.”

“Let’s not insult our teammates, guys,” said Harvard.

Seiji blinked, finally breaking his intense gaze. “I didn’t mean to be insulting, Nicholas. What I meant was, your fencing is very bad.”

“Really?” said Nicholas. “Really?”

He started to shove Seiji, who turned and walked away down the corridor. Nicholas followed Seiji so he could continue shoving him.

Normally, Harvard would’ve sent two boys who fought as much as Nicholas and Seiji to their dorm, but since Nicholas and Seiji shared a room, that seemed like telling them to go kill each other in private.

Harvard realized Eugene had his ear pressed up against the door of Coach’s office, and intervened hastily to pull him away.

“Whoa, bro,” said Eugene. “Captain, bro. Do you wanna know what Coach just said to Aiden?”

“No, I don’t,” Harvard told him sternly, “because eavesdropping is wrong.”

Whatever Eugene had overheard, it would be all over the school by nightfall. Harvard opened his mouth to order Eugene not to gossip about Aiden’s business.

The door to Coach’s office swung wide. Harvard pushed Eugene immediately out of the way.

Aiden didn’t glance at Harvard, or anyone else, as he stormed, white-faced, out of Coach’s office—and not, Harvard noticed, in the direction of one of his usual make-out spots. He would’ve chased after Aiden if he didn’t have to meet with Coach next. Harvard had responsibilities. He couldn’t just run off and do whatever he wanted.

That was Aiden’s job.

Still, the glimpse he’d got of Aiden’s green eyes set in a face gone salt-white stayed with him, even after the echo of Aiden’s steps down the hall had faded away. Maybe Harvard could quickly go check on him.

Coach rapped on her desk. “Captain! Come inside.”

Harvard hesitated a moment.

“When I get impatient, I have this irresistible urge to order captains to do five hundred suicides,” threatened Coach.

Harvard did as he was told, and closed the door of the office behind him.

Coach studied him as he sat.

“What are you looking so thoughtful about, Harvard?”

“Aiden,” said Harvard honestly.

“You’re thinking about Aiden?” said Coach.

“Well, I’m thinking about all my teammates, really,” said Harvard. “The team is in some, uh, disarray. Seiji and Nicholas were fighting about Seiji not wanting to do team bonding, and Aiden seemed… upset.”

“You shock me,” said Coach. “On all counts.”

Harvard decided there was nothing to worry about, because he and Coach would put their heads together and work this out. Coach Williams was the best coach Harvard had ever had, and Harvard thought they made a pretty good pair. His mom thought she was awesome, too. Coach wore her hair in a natural cloud like Mom’s youngest and coolest sister, Harvard’s favorite aunt, though Harvard’s auntie wore gold beads woven through her curls. Harvard couldn’t imagine Coach doing that. Coach was too no-nonsense for beads.

“I’m really glad we’re doing these bonding exercises, Coach. It’s a great idea, and I’m behind you one hundred and ten percent. Nicholas seems excited about team bonding, too. I know he doesn’t seem like a people person, but I think he’s what my Meemee would call a rough diamond.”

“His technique is certainly rough,” said Coach, but she said it with a forgiving smile.

Harvard suspected Coach had a soft spot for the new kid. Harvard liked Nicholas, too.

“Oh, but Seiji’s technique is very smooth; they can learn from each other,” Harvard said eagerly. “Maybe Meemee would call Seiji an overly polished diamond? You know how diamonds are created by coal under immense pressure? Maybe that’s Seiji’s problem. He’s a diamond who puts himself under too much pressure, like he believes he’s still coal.”

He checked to see what Coach thought about this theory. Coach was frowning, kicked back in her chair, the way she did when she was mentally working her way through a new strategy.

“Diamonds aren’t actually created from coal. Some diamonds are created by asteroid strikes,” said Coach.

“Really?”

Coach winked. “Trust me, I’m a teacher. Sometimes you have to take drastic action to get shining results.”

Harvard was silent. He saw what Coach meant, but he was slightly worried about what the equivalent of an asteroid strike would do to his team.

“What are your thoughts about Aiden?” Coach asked.

Harvard said it simply: “Aiden’s the best.”

Coach didn’t look convinced, but she would see. Harvard had faith.

Eager to help, Harvard proposed, “I was thinking—maybe we could start by drawing up a points system.”

Coach shook her head.

“You think we should play it looser and more relaxed? You could be right. Okay, let’s lay out the beginning stages of the plan. You know, loosely.”

Another head shake.

“Maybe a graph?” said Harvard, questing.

“Sometimes I worry…,” Coach started.

“About Aiden? I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t you get tired of talking to Aiden?” asked Coach.

“No, never.”

“I suppose you’re used to it.” Coach suppressed a shudder. “Friends for ten years and all that.”

“Twelve.” They hadn’t gone a day without talking since they’d first met.

More recently, this meant Aiden would text Harvard messages at random hours, such as In Swiss chalet, kidnapped by heir to Swiss banking fortune. Harvard would wake in a panic at the notification, and then grin, texting back Should I alert the authorities? When Aiden replied In the morning, Harvard could go back to sleep, knowing Aiden was safe somewhere in the world.

It was nicer during the semester, when Aiden was always nearby. Then it was how they’d planned, ever since they were kids. They’d looked into other schools, but Harvard liked the idea of this small, lovely place where he could learn everybody’s name. He’d been able to picture their future here ever since their first day walking around Kings Row, discussing how they would be roommates, teammates, and go to the fair in town every year. Aiden had swung around the stone pillars standing on each end of the quad and laughed. The sound was as bright as the spill of sunlight through the oak leaves, and Harvard had known they would be happy at Kings Row.

During the semester, it all went exactly according to plan.

Well. Almost.

“One day we’ll hire a bunch of nuns to sing ‘How Do You Solve a Problem Like Aiden?’ and maybe we’ll receive an answer,” said Coach. “Besides him, don’t you get tired of running around after the team, solving their problems?”

“Um,” said Harvard. “No? I’m the captain.”

“You did it before you were captain, though.”

Coach seemed to be in a funny mood.

“I was happy to help,” said Harvard. “And I was hoping to be chosen as captain. Which I was. Thanks, Coach! So, it’s all good. Except I’m not really following you here.… If you’re not worried about Aiden, is it Seiji or Nicholas?”

“I’m worried about you,” said Coach.

“Me?” Harvard repeated, shocked. “But I’m—”

“All good?”

Coach raised a single eyebrow.

“Well…,” Harvard said. “Yeah. What’s this got to do with team bonding?”

“I’m glad you asked. Your special personal assignment is to remember there’s a me in team,” Coach told him.

Harvard blinked.

“Do you realize the only person on the team you’re not tenderly concerned about is you?”

“Oh right! I get it now. I could definitely get some more practice in,” Harvard suggested. “I’ll ask Seiji or Aiden—”

Coach held up a hand. Harvard felt seven years old again, confused and at a loss. The only thing he could be certain of was there must be something he could do to fix this and please her, but he couldn’t think what.

“No. Don’t think about fencing. Think about yourself.”

“Coach,” Harvard said helplessly, “I’m fine.”

“Yes,” said Coach. “But are you happy?”

“Well, of—”

“Don’t answer me right away,” said Coach. “Think about it. When was the last time you did something purely for yourself? Go on a date or something.”

Harvard’s head snapped back so hard Coach’s cool sword posters blurred in his vision.

“A date!” said Harvard. “What do you mean?”

“You know, the sweet fruit that’s a staple food in the Middle East.” Coach rolled her eyes. “I mean an outing, its intent entertainment and romance. You’re Aiden’s best friend. Surely you’ve become familiar with the concept of a date by osmosis? I’d understand if you didn’t know what a second date was.…”

She trailed off. Harvard must have looked slightly traumatized.

More gently, Coach said, “If you don’t have any interest in romance, that’s more than okay. It was just a suggestion. You don’t have to date. You can get ice cream or play a video game.”

“I do!” exclaimed Harvard. “Uh, that wasn’t an ‘I do’ to playing video games, though I do occasionally. With my little cousin. Some of those games are very violent. Never mind that,” he added hastily. “I mean—I do have an interest in romance. Dating. I mean, I always thought it might just—happen.…”

“Did you believe a date might fall out of a tree?” asked Coach. “Again, you may be thinking of the fruit.”

Harvard met many wonderful people and tended to get along with them pretty well. He’d had the hazy thought, now and then, that one day he’d meet someone great and feel what was described as a coup de foudre: a strike of lightning. Or a coup de maître: a masterstroke, someone delivering a strike that was both utterly recognizable and irresistible. He’d thought he would meet someone, and they would make sense to him in the same way fencing did. He’d want to be around them all the time.

That hadn’t happened so far. Harvard hadn’t worried about it. His mother said it was best to wait to get serious, and Harvard knew himself well enough to be aware he tended to get serious about everything. He’d probably meet someone in college. They’d get married and adopt a totally great dog. It would be…

All good, Coach’s voice said in his mind, cynically.

He’d been silent for too long, he realized. Coach was giving him a keen look, sympathetic but still uncomfortable to receive. Her eyes were searching for an answer he’d just realized he didn’t have.

“So that’s your teamwork assignment,” said Coach gently. “Go think about yourself.”

And dating, apparently. Harvard nodded and left the coach’s office, somewhat dazed.

There was always so much other stuff to do. He didn’t want to let anybody down. Like he’d told Coach, he was fine, and he wanted to make sure everybody else was fine, too. He wasn’t lonely. He had Aiden.

Usually.

He climbed the stairs, dark paneling on all sides. The stairs seemed narrower than normal today.

Maybe another reason Harvard hadn’t tried dating was Aiden. Romantic stuff came so easily to his best friend. When they went into the city, Aiden was constantly approached by admirers and modeling agency scouts. All Aiden had to do was smile at people, and they fell in love. Aiden had his own devoted fan club, a group of boys Aiden had nicknamed the Bons, who came to every fencing match. Trying to date with Aiden around would be like learning to play a keyboard around the world’s foremost concert pianist.

When Aiden was busy with a guy—which, in recent years, happened more and more—Harvard had his team, his family, and other friends. Kally and Tanner were good guys. Kings Row was a great place. Someone always needed help with fencing or homework. Harvard led a very full life.

Yes, Coach had said. But are you happy?

Harvard walked slowly down the hall to his dormitory, lost in thought.

When he opened the door, he found his roommate hunched over his laptop like a vexed cat brooding over an unsatisfactory dead mouse. His green eyes flashed with displeasure at being interrupted.

“Hey,” said Harvard. “You seemed off earlier. You okay? Want to talk?”

“I need quiet!” Aiden snapped.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Harvard gazed around. Something else was weird, besides his uncharacteristically cranky roommate. Their room was festooned with piles of flowers and chocolates. Aiden’s bed was covered in roses and ribbons and cake, as if an unscrupulous thief had robbed a wedding and abandoned their loot.

Harvard was used to such displays on Aiden’s birthday and Valentine’s Day, but both were months away.

“Where’d all this come from?” Harvard asked.

“All what?” Aiden made an impatient gesture with his finger, and then glanced around the room. “I don’t know. Some people wandered in with some stuff, I guess? There have been many interruptions during the past hour. Including you.”

The room really did remind Harvard of Valentine’s Day. Every Valentine’s Day, Aiden got such a deluge of cards and gifts that Harvard feared they might drown in candy waterfalls and storms of lace-edged cardboard hearts. Harvard had never received a valentine himself. Except from Aiden when they were little, in a cute, platonic way. But Aiden hadn’t given him one for years.

Harvard wandered uneasily over to his own bed, skirting around the suspicious lumps under the blanket of petals on the floor. His bed was also covered in presents. (Their beds were pushed together, and gifts seemed to have flooded in from Aiden’s side.) He made out several fruit baskets, but he couldn’t see his pillow, and he knew a pineapple wouldn’t be a good substitute. A pineapple pillow did not promise restful slumber.

He poked at the heap, wondering if there was any way he could shift the presents around so he could sleep comfortably tonight. The pile of offerings tilted like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, then a flood of chocolates splashed onto the floor. Harvard let out a squawk.

“Aiden!” said Harvard. “My bed’s a disaster!”

“Great,” murmured Aiden.

Harvard was receiving the impression Aiden wasn’t really listening.

Against his better judgment, Harvard peered at the note affixed to the largest fruit basket. It was a square of white cardboard reading, Heard you might need a new roommate, Aiden! A note on a box of chocolates wrapped with a dusky crimson ribbon read Call me lover roomie.

“Huh,” said Harvard.

He thought again of their first day seeing Kings Row, when he’d asked Aiden to be roommates. Aiden had been talking excitedly about the harvest festival in town. Harvard had looked forward to going with him.

Only he hadn’t. Aiden had gone with a date instead. People said the Kingstone Fair was a guaranteed great date. Harvard had never actually been to the fair.

“Are you… in the market for another roommate?” Harvard asked.

“Don’t bother me with absurd questions,” said Aiden.

Harvard didn’t really think Aiden was. Of course, he’d seen Aiden cast off people with a shrug, as if they didn’t matter, all the time… but Harvard was different.

About twenty guys had sobbed on Harvard’s shoulder saying they’d thought they were different, wailing over Aiden while Harvard patted them on the back. But obviously, that was… not the same.

This was probably just a misunderstanding.

But… if Aiden did want a new roommate, who would Harvard room with? He got along well with everybody and didn’t have anyone specific to ask. Just as he usually didn’t have anyone specific to hang out with while Aiden was busy on his dates.

“Coach made some suggestions to me just now,” Harvard said tentatively. “About the team bonding exercise.”

“Yeah, yeah, go on a picnic, make a graph. Do whatever you like,” snapped Aiden, crunching up another piece of paper. “Leave me alone.”

“If that’s what you want.”

Harvard retreated from Aiden’s mood and the gift apocalypse occurring in his room. He went into the hall to get a breath of air. Once he did, a basic strategy formed in his mind.

It was pretty clear what Harvard’s next step should be. He took out his phone and called the person he knew would help, no matter what his problem was.

He smiled as soon as he heard her voice on the other end of the line. “Hey, Mom. Just called to say I love you. And, uh… do any of your friends have a daughter my age? Who might be interested in going on a date? With me?”