Boys vs Girls

Claire cast a quick glance around the gym, before turning back to her team’s first match. She’d been in plenty of fencing competitions, but not one that had mixed-gender teams. It was all a little exciting.

Next to her, Sarah shifted from foot to foot. Claire put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be fine.”

Sarah nodded.

It was James Novach, their foil captain, against a broad-shouldered hunk of a man with the name “Holdson” stitched on his back. If she wasn’t so in the zone, she’d be pretty into their enemy.

The referee, an older man in a put-together cheap three-piece suit, called: “Allez!” 

James launched himself down the strip, landing in an excellent lunge. Holdson missed his parry.

“Touché!” The referee held up a hand. Claire cheered.

The match ended 5-to-2. Holdson put up a good fight after his fumbling debut, but it was clear James had better form. Claire had seen James practice his lunges alone in the gym until his legs gave out. She wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

James got off the strip and high-fived them both.

“That was good,” Sarah said shyly. 

“Their club is pretty new, so I’m not surprised,” James said, looking back at Holdson, who joined his team in a tense-looking huddle. Holdson, a skinny guy named Camry, and a shorter dark-haired girl named Lou. Domaine College’s first fencing team.

This should be easy.

“You’re up,” James said to Sarah. 

Sarah plugged her body cord into the socket on her blade, hands shaking.

“Hey,” James gently helped her with the socket. “It’ll be fine, okay? They aren’t even that good.”

“I know.”

“You’ll do fine.”

“I know.”

“Really? Cause it sounds like you don’t.”

“I’ll do fine,” Sarah said.

She sucked in a breath and walked robotically over to the referee to check her blade, shoulders hunched and tense.

“It’s her first competition?” Claire asked.

“Yeah,” said James, “she’s been training for a while though.”

Sarah took her position on the starting line. Lou, the dark-haired girl, did the same.

“Whoo! Go, Sarah!” Claire yelled, “kick her ass!”

“That’s not very sportsman-like,” said James.

“Maybe in your club. My high school club had signs and everything.”

“What did the signs say?”

“Oh, you know, the classics. ‘Eat a toad insert-enemy-team-here!’, ‘Rip them to shreds!’, ‘When you lose we’ll buy you pity ice cream!’.”

“Is every all-girl private school so aggressive?”

“Hm, maybe. Oh hey, Sarah scored! Whoo! Sarah!”

Sarah didn’t pay them any mind, every aspect of her was honed in on her opponent.

It was hard to tell with the mask on, but Lou seemed frustrated.

“Allez!”

Lou went on the offensive, pushing Sarah back on the strip. Sarah’s earlier panic had disappeared completely. She took slow, measured steps, shuffling her rhythm to close distance.

Lou went for the attack.

Sarah did a parry riposte.

Lou parried, then avoided Sarah’s blade and struck Sarah on her lower side.

“Damn,” said James.

The referee gave the point to Lou.

Lou seemed overconfident now, marching Sarah down the strip the same way she did last time. Claire and James watched with bated breath as the two closed the distance and slowed down their movements, each waiting for something.

Lou attacked.

Sarah went for the parry.

Lou disengaged, avoiding her blade.

Sarah’s second parry came around in the other direction, a circle six instead of a four. Lou wasn’t expecting that. Sarah took her parry riposte, scoring her point.

“Nice,” said James.

“Awesome!” cheered Claire.

The match ended 5-to-4. Close, but Sarah had broken the tie by, for once, going on the offensive, catching Lou off-guard.

It was Claire’s turn.

“Hold my water,” she shoved the water bottle into James’s hands. He took it, more out of surprise than anything.

Claire hugged Sarah as they switched places. “See? You got this!”

“Thanks,” Sarah was flushed. Probably from the bout.

The referee checked Claire’s weapon. Camry, the skinny boy, didn’t seem like much. He avoided eye contact, starting instead at the referee.

Claire took her position on the strip. Camry did the same. 

“Salute your opponent,” said the referee. Claire liked to do hers with a flourish. Camry’s blade was stiff as he saluted her. He seemed focused.

Seemed that after two losses he was taking things seriously.

“En-gadre! Pret! Allez!”

Something was wrong. Claire felt it the moment she stepped forward and saw Camry marching her down. She should do…something. Anything. But all she felt, like a thousand-ton weight pressing down on her shoulder blades, was the sudden and inexplicable conviction that she would lose this bout.

Camry struck. She failed to parry in time. The point went to Camry. 

This was ridiculous. He didn’t do anything tricky, his movements were confident but slow, she could’ve…she could’ve…

Back to the starting line. She needed to shake off whatever funk this was, or else.

“Allez!”

This time she went on the offensive. No time to think, just find an opening and-

She struck.

Camry parried but didn’t repost, waiting.

Taunting her.

She struck again. 

He parried.

What was wrong with her? She knew what to do, she couldn’t just do the same thing over and over, she needed to change her strategy, catch him off-guard, and not just stand there like an idiot in her second fencing class.

She struck again.

Camry did a parry riposte. 

She didn’t parry back.

This was expected, something told her.

This was always how it was going to go.

He’s going to score three more points.

There’s nothing you can do.

Her opponent didn’t seem phased, triumphant, or confused, he just seemed-

He knows he’ll win.

He knows you’ll lose.

He knows you’re weak.

Give up.

There’s nothing you can do.

Give up.

The match was lost 5-to-0. 

Claire pulled out her body chord and walked right past her teammates, tossing equipment down as she went.

“Claire!” James called after her.

Claire didn’t bother, she just slammed open the gym's double doors and left.

Mixed-gender fencing was a mistake.