Harvard was pretty nervous about his second date of the weekend. He was afraid he’d spend another night feeling the same absolute wrongness he’d felt on Friday, wondering why he wasn’t happier to be there. He never wanted to feel that vacancy in his chest again, the knowledge he was expected to do something and couldn’t possibly do it. But Harvard worried if he chickened out now, he might never date again.
His mom had been understanding and embracing of all Harvard’s doubts on the phone, just as he’d known she would be.
You and me, kid, she used to say in the hospital when Dad was sleeping, his father’s wasted body quiet and still under white sheets. We’re a team.
Harvard always tried to be a good teammate, but his mom was the best. She was the one who encouraged him to go on a second date right away, told him that her friend Rita had a son he might like. She said she loved him and was proud of him, as she did every time he called, and she wanted him to be happy. She told him to grab every chance for happiness he got.
Harvard had a happy family, but they knew better than most how fragile happiness could be.
So he was going to try and be happy in a new way, which included figuring out who—if anyone—he wanted to kiss. He’d never thought about… physical stuff that much. That was Aiden’s specialty, and Harvard’s mind tended to veer away from the idea of Aiden and romance.
This wasn’t about Aiden. It was about Harvard and some guy.
Maybe a date with a guy would go better. Maybe it would feel better. He could only hope so.
He had some time to kill, and he didn’t want to get worked up worrying about his date, so Harvard tried to be productive and write his teamwork essay. Coach hadn’t technically said he had to do it, but since everyone else on the team was doing it—even Aiden—Harvard had decided he should, too.
He’d written about meeting Aiden when he was five, how they’d got along right away and how Harvard had known at once that Aiden was cool and funny and special. He knew what came next. He’d been avoiding it, but Harvard knew he shouldn’t avoid responsibility.
When I was seven, my dad got really sick, Harvard wrote. He got better. It’s all good now.
He felt he should add more to the essay about that, before he got onto the subject of fencing. Maybe about how his mom had been brave, and they’d been lucky?
He looked helplessly around his room. Aiden wasn’t there. He was probably on a date. Possibly two dates, since it seemed like Friday night’s hadn’t gone well. More and more over the last few years, Aiden was nowhere to be found.
When Aiden was out on dates and Harvard felt restless like this, he’d usually go to the salle and practice until he was exhausted enough to sleep and not anticipate the sound of Aiden coming in, accompanied or otherwise.
He could go to the salle now. Or he could drive around on his motorcycle. He’d got his license when Mom and Dad took him to Italy last year and had so much fun his parents had surprised him with a motorcycle on his birthday. Harvard didn’t ride it a lot now that he was back at school, but Mom had forcibly suggested he should pick up his date on the bike. He didn’t know why, but she seemed to feel strongly that it would improve his chances with Neil.
Driving the motorcycle would make Harvard think about the date later that night, which was exactly what he was trying to avoid.
He went to the salle, crossing a lawn that was half-shadow, half-gold in the setting sun, and ran through the arched doorway. Fencing was simple, as so many things weren’t. Fencing came with the assurance that if Harvard tried hard enough, it would make a difference. Harvard wasn’t powerless, the way he had been as a kid. He could accomplish something real.
Fencing also came with teammates. The salle was already occupied. Nicholas Cox was in there. Usually, Harvard would’ve joined Nicholas on the piste beside his, and maybe offered a couple tips, but this evening the sight of Nicholas made him hang back. Nicholas wasn’t practicing any of the moves Coach was trying hard to teach him, helping him catch up to the other students’ years of learned techniques. Instead, Nicholas was rushing forward, ever forward, in a flurry of swings. He seemed to be fighting invisible and unconquerable enemies that came from every side.
From the look of him, he’d been doing it for some time. His T-shirt was drenched through with perspiration, his chest rising and falling so hard it was almost as though he were sobbing. As Harvard watched, Nicholas finally let his point drop and trailed his weary way across the room, sliding down with his back against the wall until he hit the floor.
Harvard hesitated, then crossed the salle, knelt down, and asked Nicholas, “You doing okay?”
Nicholas’s head came up with a jerk, but he didn’t look angry that Harvard was there. He wiped sweaty hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand, mouth trembling out of shape for a minute, then said, “What would you do if—if someone called you a loser?”
“Who called you that?” Harvard asked with deadly calm.
He knew how some of the kids at Kings Row were about scholarship students. It had never seemed to bother Nicholas, so Harvard hadn’t wanted to embarrass him by making an issue of it, but now someone had clearly pierced Nicholas Cox’s impressive armor. Harvard never approved of cruelty and stopped it whenever he could, but this was different. Nicholas was on Harvard’s team. Nicholas was Harvard’s responsibility. If anyone had hurt him, Harvard wanted to know.
“Nobody from this school!” Nicholas assured him instantly.
Harvard paused, unconvinced, but from his experience with Nicholas, he was an honest guy. After a moment, Harvard nodded.
“Well, let me know if anybody is a jerk to you. If they wanna call you a loser, they can call me a loser, too.”
Nicholas turned to Harvard with his eyes popping out and so circular, they were basically flying saucers.
“Nobody could ever think you were a loser, Captain.”
“I’ve lost matches.” Harvard gave Nicholas a little smile. “I’ve lost more than that. Everybody loses. Sometimes you lose more than you knew you had.”
Writing the essay had forced Harvard to recall things he usually didn’t let himself dwell upon. It had all been a long time ago. He remembered being so little that when he’d sat in the hospital chairs, his feet dangled far above the floor. His mom had talked to the doctors behind a half-shut door, and Harvard had heard the words You might want to prepare yourself for the worst. His mother had gone into the room where his father slept, held his hands, and sobbed. Harvard had known with the quiet terror of a small helpless thing that despite what Mom had said about them being a team, there was nothing he could really do.
“What if someone called you a loser and you knew it was… sort of true?” said Nicholas. “It’s not gonna stay true. But it’s kinda true, for now.”
“It’s not true at all.”
Nicholas scoffed.
“Hey,” said Harvard. “It’s not losing that makes you a loser. It’s how you deal with it when you lose. I believe that.”
There was a silence as Nicholas pondered this, forehead scrunching up and mouth pursed, looking the same way he did when Coach or Harvard or Seiji suggested a new technique to practice.
At last, Nicholas shrugged. “I’m not used to losing anything.” He cracked a smile. “Not because I’m such a winner, obviously. It’s just I never had much to lose before. Now I have so much stuff. But at the same time, I feel kind of lousy about hanging on to it. Like I’m… maybe doing something wrong. Have you ever felt that way? I know it doesn’t make much sense.”
Harvard murmured, “It makes sense.”
“I know you and Aiden have been friends forever.” Nicholas’s rough voice was wistful. “It must be really cool, to have a someone you know will always be there. I’ve never had that, but I get that it would suck to let go of. That you wouldn’t want to, not ever. If anyone got in the way and messed stuff up between you and Aiden, you’d hate them, probably. Right?”
Harvard thought of the first time he’d looked around for Aiden and hadn’t found him. They were going on fifteen and had been getting more and more into fencing. Aiden had got taller all of a sudden and started to move differently. Harvard registered it, but he hadn’t really noticed: Aiden was always Aiden, always great and cool, and without question beloved.
Other people had noticed.
They’d been walking around Kings Row, deciding if they wanted to go there. As they’d crossed the quad, Aiden was talking about the Kingstone Fair. He seemed to really want to go.
“I was thinking,” Aiden said hesitantly behind Harvard, “that we could go together? You and me.”
“Sure,” Harvard had told him. “I could win you a bear. To be friends with Harvard Paw.”
“Friends,” Aiden had said. “Great.”
There was something funny about Aiden’s voice when he’d said that. He hadn’t sounded pleased like Harvard had thought he would be. Harvard had frowned, about to turn and check on him.
Then someone had whistled and called out: “Hello, gorgeous!”
There had been a moment of confusion. Harvard had glanced around for Aiden, expecting Aiden to be a step behind him the way Aiden always was. That was how they’d walked forever, since they were kids and Aiden was so much smaller than Harvard but trailed persistently after him.
Only Aiden hadn’t been there. Aiden stood alone, attention distracted by the whistle that was clearly aimed at him.
“Hey,” said the boy who’d whistled. “Yeah, you! What are you doing later?”
After a startled instant, Harvard had seen a slow smile steal across Aiden’s face. He’d tossed back his hair—when had it got so long?—so he could see the guy who’d whistled better. His gaze had slid to Harvard, uncertain.
What had Harvard expected, for Aiden to stay in his shadow forever? Even if that were what he’d wanted, it wouldn’t be right or fair. Nobody shone like Aiden.
Harvard had taken a step back.
That was the first time Harvard had realized they wouldn’t do everything together forever. They hadn’t gone to the fair together. Aiden had gone with some guy, and Harvard had stayed home alone.
“Sometimes it’s right to let go of people,” Harvard told Nicholas now, thinking about that day. “But you can still be there for someone, even if you have to let go.”
“Sometimes I feel like I’m messing stuff up just by being here,” muttered Nicholas.
“No,” said Harvard. “Being there for someone is the most important thing you’ll ever do. Not winning or losing. Just being there.”
The night they’d thought Harvard’s dad would die, Aiden’s latest stepmother had tried to pick up Aiden from the hospital.
“I have no idea who this woman is!” little Aiden had claimed, always so smart even when they were tiny. He’d used the lethal combination of being articulate and having the cutthroat instinct for knowing exactly what to say, and secured the nurses as his allies.
When Aiden’s latest stepmom couldn’t tell them what Aiden’s middle name was (Harvard had felt sorry for her and mouthed Lionel in her direction, but Aiden elbowed him), Aiden’s stepmom had eventually slunk away in shame. Aiden got to stay almost the whole night.
His dad came out of a meeting to get Aiden, and he’d carried Aiden away, Aiden yelling his head off and kicking his feet against his dad’s ten-thousand-dollar suit jacket. Let me down, I want to stay! I want to be with Harvard, I have to be with Harvard!
The hour Harvard had spent alone in the hospital outside his father’s room was the longest of his life.
In the gray early morning, Aiden had showed up again. Harvard had been sitting on the chairs in the waiting room and Aiden crept in, wearing his pajama top with his jeans, hand in hand with one of the nurses he’d won over earlier.
Harvard had blinked his dry eyes, sleepless and burning. “How’d you get here?”
Aiden had shrugged his thin shoulders and smiled his timid little smile.
Harvard only found out later how Aiden effected his return. Seven years old, and he’d stolen his stepmom’s credit card and called a taxi to take him to the hospital.
Aiden had climbed up onto the hard gray hospital chairs with Harvard and they’d slept, holding hands, curled up under the same thin blue hospital blanket.
“I have to be with you, too,” Harvard had mumbled.
Dad had got through the crisis. Dad lived, and Harvard did, too. Because of Aiden.
Aiden’s just heartless, boys would tell Harvard, and it was as if they were talking about a stranger. Aiden had more heart than anyone Harvard had ever met. If those guys didn’t get that, none of them was the right guy.
One day, once Aiden was done having fun, there would be a right guy. Harvard had made his peace with that long ago.
But Harvard was tired of being good, yet not quite good enough for his mom and for his team and for Aiden. At last, he wanted something of his own.
He was, he admitted to himself, really hoping this date worked out.
Nicholas cleared his throat, and Harvard’s attention was recalled to his teammate in need. “I want to keep things the way they are now. For a little while longer. Have you ever felt that way?”
Yes, Harvard thought, thinking of childhood, of being the most important person in Aiden’s life as Aiden was the most important person in his. It couldn’t last.
“Yeah, I have. I don’t know if you can keep things the way they are, but I want you to know this. You’re not messing anything up by being here, Nicholas. You’re not messing anything up by having friends. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Nicholas beamed, a huge stunned smile, as though he hadn’t known before. “Yeah, Captain!”
“I’m glad you’re here. I think we’re lucky to have you at Kings Row.”
He leaned against the wall, giving Nicholas’s shoulder a little nudge.
“I like,” Nicholas said shyly, “being part of the team. Having friends. I’d like to belong here, somehow. Sometimes I feel like I can. I keep thinking if I was just good enough, I could make everything work out. You know?”
Harvard nodded and thought about trying too hard. Supporting his mom, when he felt too overwhelmed and too young to do it right. Supporting Aiden’s relationships like a best friend should, when he secretly felt like doing anything but.
What mattered was being there. What mattered was always doing your best and hoping one day you’d get it right.
Harvard told Nicholas, “I know exactly what you mean.”
His answer made Nicholas turn to him, Nicholas’s face changing as though he could tell how sincerely Harvard meant it. Turning on a dime the way he did sometimes, Nicholas flashed him a grin full of renewed determination.
“I’m gonna get good enough, as fast as I can.”
Nicholas glowed. “You do?”
“I’m your captain. It’s my job.”
“Thanks, Captain,” Nicholas told him.
“Anytime.” Harvard checked his watch. “Except for right now. I’m gonna be late for my date. Gotta go. Please keep working on your retreats.”
“Whoa, you date a lot, don’t you?” Nicholas sounded impressed. “I mean—you must be really popular. That’s cool; I totally get why. Have a great time.”
Harvard wished he was as cool as the freshman imagined he was, but he was glad he’d come to the salle, even if he hadn’t got any practice in.
When he got back to his room, he didn’t immediately start getting ready for his date.
Instead, he produced his essay and crossed out It’s all good now and wrote My dad is better now, but it was really hard at the time. My mom and my best friend got me through.
Then he checked the mirror, shared an expression of nervous agony with his reflection, slid on his new leather jacket he’d bought for practicality because leather protected you best if you wiped out on the roads, and went on his date.
Harvard didn’t want to let down anybody, including himself.
He rode his motorcycle out through the gleaming gates of Kings Row, through the quaint, winding streets of Kingstone, and past the town toward the houses high up in the hills. Streetlights painted an orange trail for him up through the curving road. His mom had given him directions to this guy Neil’s house, and Harvard followed them easily enough to a large white house with ivy growing up the walls, and a porch painted pale green. There was a boy already sitting on the porch steps, messing around with his phone.
His mom had promised him that he would like Neil. She’d said that he was the kind of guy who’d sit with his mom’s friends and act genuinely charming and happy to be there. Harvard hadn’t really understood that. Harvard’s mom was awesome, so who wouldn’t want to hang out with her? But he trusted her recommendation.
Now Harvard leaned forward against the handlebars of his bike, and understood what his mom had meant. The guy sitting on the porch steps had a relaxed air and brown hair that gave the impression of being untidy even though it was neat. He wore a flannel shirt, but a nice one. He’s, Harvard thought, unused to thinking this way but trying it out, cute?
Harvard didn’t experience a lightning strike, wasn’t suddenly certain of who or what he wanted. But he got a good feeling about this. He felt a little surer.
“Wow,” breathed the boy who must be Neil, which was—maybe? Harvard hoped?—a good sign.
Harvard smiled.
“Hey, I’m Harvard. It’s really good to meet you.”