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The Employees

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Olga Ravn

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“Seiji sighed again and surrendered himself to his fate. He finished his breakfast, and then rose. “You go on to class without me. I want a word with Eugene.” Seiji hesitated. “You can save me a seat. If you insist.” Nicholas paused, then smiled. His face was a lot more tolerable when he did that. “I will.”

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“Aiden rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, there are three of them.” “There’s only one of me,” Jesse snapped. “I’m Jesse Coste.” He tossed his head up high. Seiji had seen other people quail when faced with half the fury currently gleaming in Jesse’s blue eyes or contained in the arrogant lift of his chin. “Don’t flip your hair at me, freshman,” Aiden sneered back. “I’m Aiden Kane.” Aiden shook back his own light, bright, curling hair from his face and looked down his nose at Jesse. “Who?” Jesse asked. “Ask some of the Exton boys,” Aiden drawled. “I don’t remember their names, but I guarantee you they’ll know mine.”

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“Seiji was not having a good day. He felt he’d been horribly misled by Eugene. He’d trusted him to be correct in his reading of social dynamics, but as it emerged, him was an imbecile, Nicholas hadn’t even been upset, and the whole prank had been an exercise in futility. As the illicit brown sugar sprinkled on this oatmeal of horror, he’d been hauled around like a deeply shamed sack of potatoes by weight lifters. Seiji wasn’t sure he could look anyone at Kings Row in the face right now. Any escape from their watching eyes and embarrassing congratulations was welcome. The last time Seiji’d been in the woods, he’d gotten lost in them. Seiji headed into the trees now, hoping he could again. Perhaps by the time he found his way back, everybody would have forgotten about the prank. He feared not.”

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“There was a book called The Twenty-Six Commandments of Irish Dueling. That sounded cool. Nicholas reached for it, but Seiji’s books were packed together so tightly he actually had to force the book out. The bookcase rocked, and a watch in a little case tumbled from the top shelf and hit the floor. A different book fell down and struck Nicholas’s foot. Nicholas, hopping in wild dismay, stepped on the watch. The plastic case cracked. When Nicholas hastily removed his foot, he saw that the watch inside the case had cracked, too. The whole disaster took about five seconds. Seiji sounded calmly pleased to be proven right. “I knew you would do something like this.” “Um,” said Nicholas. “Oops. Sorry. I’ll pay for that! Or I’ll get it fixed or something!” Seiji sighed dismissively, opening his book back up. “All right.” That made Nicholas feel much worse. There were plenty of guys at Kings Row who would’ve got very nasty about Nicholas daring to touch, let alone break, their stuff. Seiji wasn’t like that. Seiji’s words might cut, but he didn’t say them to cut. Seiji wasn’t Aiden, whom Nicholas never paid attention to. When Aiden spoke, all Nicholas heard was: Blah, blah, blah, I’m a snotty rich kid who talks too much. Nicholas had never seen Seiji get any pleasure out of being cruel. That was what made Seiji’s words cut deep. Nicholas knew Seiji meant what he said.”

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“Seiji was direly embarrassed by Nicholas’s presence, not to mention his appearance. He hadn’t wished to see Jesse again. If forced to, he would have preferred to see him while winning Olympic gold. Failing that, Seiji would’ve preferred to see Jesse literally anywhere other than here. In the middle of the woods, in a state of undress, with a companion who had apparently been raised by wolves and then abandoned by the pack for being too scruffy. There was… another consideration, besides embarrassment. Sometimes there were people who were obviously not on the winning side, and never would be. Bad at fencing or at words or at life in some crucial way Jesse could always ascertain. Occasionally, Jesse would casually amuse himself at some unfortunate soul’s expense. Seiji wouldn’t laugh because he never actually understood the jokes or why they were funny, but he didn’t care much. It was simply Jesse’s way. Now he recalled with unwelcome vividness how those people’s cheeks would bear sudden swift streaks of red, as though slashed. Or they might slink off with a curious look of defeat, as if a lunch table were a fencing match. Some of them, Seiji had noticed, never came back again. Seiji didn’t want to see Jesse do that to Nicholas. Not Nicholas.”

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“Seiji took the picture willingly enough, since it would please Bobby, but it was a strain to figure out how to behave in unfamiliar surroundings. The least Nicholas could do was help him, but instead he was sulking in the corner. The only reasonable explanation was that Seiji had offended him. Seiji was always offending people, though Nicholas seemed to bounce back faster than most. Seiji couldn’t figure out what the problem was. He hadn’t said anything worse to Nicholas than he usually did.”

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“You seem a bit quiet, bro,” Eugene remarked in a low voice. “Not that you’re what I’d describe as chatty, but normally you’d have accidentally insulted someone by now. Something wrong?” He was tempted to snap, but Eugene was a teammate, too. Seiji cleared his throat. “Nicholas is angry with me. I’m not sure why. Do you know why? I know you two socialize frequently.” Eugene paused. “I don’t think Nicholas is angry with you.” “No, he is,” said Seiji. “He told me to go away.” “He probably just meant that you could go practice in the salle if you’re hating the midnight feast, dude,” said Eugene. “Your face went all grumpy cat when we broke out the marshmallows.” Seiji opened his mouth to protest that Nicholas never cared when Seiji made faces, and never told him to go away, but Eugene continued. “I think there’s something else going on.” Seiji gave Eugene his full attention. “What?” Eugene turned his protein shake in his hands for another moment. “We went to town Saturday, and some Kings Row guys there were awful to him. It’s been bothering me all weekend, actually. They acted like they were so far above Nicholas. They made it seem like he was going to shoplift! Which he wasn’t!” Eugene added hastily, as though Seiji might imagine Nicholas would. The burner’s blue flame hissed. Harvard was talking about how delicious the pasta sauce smelled. Their captain was very good at making conversation. Seiji frowned. “Why would people from our school represent Nicholas as a common thief?” “Right? It sucks!” said Eugene. “You might know them? They were the first two guys to wash out of fencing tryouts. They think they’re so much better than Nicholas.” “They think they’re better than Nicholas?” Seiji asked sharply. “But they can’t fence at all!”

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“Tell me—or anyone else—something thatis personal to you, Coach had said. Seiji couldn’t talk to just anyone, but Nicholas had said they were friends. “I was… Jesse’s mirror,” said Seiji slowly. “I reflected his—glow, his glories and his victories. I used to think it was an honor. We were similar, I told myself, in all the ways that really mattered.” Jesse was left-handed like Nicholas, so facing him sometimes felt like looking into a mirror. Like seeing yourself through the glass, a better, golden self in a different world. A self who fenced just as well but didn’t have to work as hard for it. A Seiji who did everything in life with the same skill as he fenced. “You’re not a mirror,” said Nicholas. “You’re real.” “It’s a metaphor, Nicholas.” Nicholas shrugged. “You’re still not a mirror. Mirrors break. You never do.” Seiji thought of his moment of defeat against Jesse. The moment that Aiden had seen, and taunted Seiji with, making Seiji lose again. Seiji had trained his whole life to be strong, but somehow, he was still weak. Jesse had taken his sword, and Seiji hadn’t been able to stop him. The bitterness of that defeat sent Seiji to Kings Row. Always keep moving toward your target, his dad’s voice said, but somehow Seiji had ended up getting his target wrong. He’d moved toward loss and pain he still didn’t entirely understand. “I lost,” confessed Seiji. “Badly.” “Doesn’t make you a loser,” said Nicholas, having another lapse where he didn’t understand what words—let alone metaphors—meant. “You didn’t burst into tears and give up fencing. And you didn’t follow Jesse to Exton like a little lamb, the way he was expecting. You came to Kings Row, and you came to fence. You came to fight.” This view of the matter was so shocking that Seiji said something he’d thought he would never say to Nicholas Cox. “I suppose…,” said Seiji, “… you’re right.” Nicholas’s gaze remained fixed on the floor. “Being rivals shouldn’t be about being someone’s mirror. Both of you get to be real. Neither of you has to break.” “Sometimes you’re insightful, Nicholas,” said Seiji. Nicholas looked pleased before Seiji added: “I think it’s mainly by accident.” At that point, Nicholas rolled his eyes and stepped into his side of the room, yanking the curtain closed between them.”

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“That morning when Seiji came to breakfast, he discovered Dante attempting to take the seat beside Nicholas. “Hey, dude, no, I’m saving this seat for Seiji,” said Nicholas. Dante rolled his eyes without a word and went around the table. Seiji took the seat with a faint feeling of satisfaction. Naturally, Nicholas didn’t want to sit beside Dante. Who would? “There’s no actual need to save a seat for me,” Seiji informed Nicholas. Nicholas waved him off as if he were an annoying fly. “I’m gonna, you can’t stop me.” Seiji supposed he couldn’t. He started eating his breakfast, though Nicholas eyeballed Seiji’s protein-rich green smoothie suspiciously. Nicholas had no idea about the importance of nutrition.”

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