The Exton team were slumped or hunched over in various positions of resignation and boredom when the Halverton team entered. Aster Leventis (or was it Thomas?) was the first to notice their arrival, and he straightened up, nudging Marcel. Jesse Coste’s head whipped around and a gleam entered his eyes.

“Oh,” he said. “What have we here?”

“Jesse,” said Scott, nodding formally. “It seems like we’ve both been having some transport difficulties.”

“What are the odds?” said Marcel, looking delighted. “Van.” He gave a grin that looked more predatory than friendly. Van tossed his hair over his shoulder.

“Marcel.”

“Aster,” said Gian, nodding to one of the Leventis twins. Aster - or Thomas - didn’t correct him, only smiled.

“Hello, Gian.”

They all looked at Sungchul, who simply raised an eyebrow and went to sit at a table a little way away from the Exton team.

Van, Gian and Scott followed suit, stiffly folding themselves into various uncomfortable chairs. A clock ticked loudly on the wall. Gian drummed his fingers.

It was going to be a long hour.

Outside in the parking lot, Coach Brooks accepted another light from Coach Donati and said conversationally,

“How long do you think it’ll be before we have a bloodbath on our hands?”

Alessandra blew out a stream of smoke and considered. “I give it twenty minutes.”

Five minutes dragged by agonisingly slowly. Van felt like every tick from that godforsaken clock reverberated in his soul.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t have ways to pass the time - normally on long bus rides to meets, he and Gian would be gossiping and speculating about the other fencers, recalling infamous events, and passing fencing videos to each other, Scott and Sungchul. One bus ride Sungchul had managed to get him to try an audio drama that he liked, although unfortunately it had lulled Van to sleep before the second episode.

But there was too much tension in the air for Van to act like they were just passing the time before a meet. After five more torturous minutes, however, he was ready to contemplate anything. Even a strategy discussion. That, though, was completely off the table with Exton within earshot.

Finally, the stalemate was broken by a rustling sound as Marcel reached into his bag and brought out... some knitting. Van blinked in surprise as Marcel arranged a ball of wool on the table next to him, unwound it a little, and then started adding rows, needles clicking in counterpoint to the ticking of the clock. Huh.

This seemed to signal a kind of collective release of tension as Sungchul sighed and sat back, and Thomas – or Aster – rummaged around in a pocket to bring out a bag of mixed nuts, which he placed on the table between himself and his twin.

Oh right, food. On cue, Van’s stomach growled. He’d forgotten to bring the protein bar that he normally carried with him on the way to fencing meets.

He poked Gian in the shoulder. “Do you have any snacks?”

“You watched me finish mine on the bus,” Gian pointed out.

Van turned pleading eyes on Sungchul, who already had a pair of earphones in, and Scott, whose brow crinkled.

“There’s a vending machine,” he said, jerking his thumb at it. “Just get something from there.”

The contents of the vending machine were definitely not in Coach Brooks’ diet plan, but this was an emergency. Van wandered over, chose a chocolate bar, and managed to scrounge up enough coins to pay for it.

The vending machine dispenser whirred promisingly, but then gave a horrible grinding noise. The chocolate bar sagged halfway out of its slot and didn’t fall.

“No!” Van gave the obstinate machine a thump on its side, which had no effect. “Cazzo di macchinetta di merda eddai!” The machine was impervious to threats, and also to Van’s increasingly forceful rattling. “Mapporc-” He gave it a shove. “Puttana maledetta-”

Someone gave a cough behind him, and Van turned to see Jesse Coste standing there.

“Ah – it’s stuck,” he said, unnecessarily.

“Can I try?” Jesse asked, and so Van stood back to let him access the machine. Jesse calmly appraised the vending machine and gave an almighty slam on one side with his fist. The chocolate bar meekly dropped to the bottom, letting Jesse pick it up and hand it to Van.

“There you go.”

Van took the chocolate bar and stared at Exton’s captain. Watching Jesse Coste annihilate an opponent on the fencing strip was one thing; watching him annihilate a vending machine was another.

“How did you...”

“Hotel vending machines are all the same make and design.” Jesse shrugged. He inserted some coins into the slot, and a bottle of water dropped out of the machine, like the machine didn’t dare push its luck twice.

Van went back to join his teammates. Scott was chuckling, while Gian raised his eyebrows.

“Do you think I can get a can of fruit juice?” he asked.

“If you can’t, Jesse Coste can probably get it for you,” Van said.

Someone gave a soft laugh, and Van looked over to see Marcel still knitting away; the thing interwoven with his needles was looking recognisably hat-shaped. It was a little mesmerising watching Marcel’s hand flick and his needles move.

Van had never found crafts that interesting, but he was intrigued enough to say, “That looks cool.”

Marcel’s gaze cut over to him and he gave a smirk like he’d won by getting Van to say something complimentary. “My way with long, pointed objects extends beyond the épée.”

Scott made a noise somewhere between a snort and a choke.

Never one to back down from an implied challenge (especially from Exton), Van said, “I’m sure I could master those just as well, if I tried.”

Marcel raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you were prepared to take instruction from a superior knitter, then we could see.”

One of the Leventis twins muttered, “Jesus Christ, get a room.” Van was drawing breath for an indignant retort when the other twin came back from the vending machine, putting a can of drink down in front of his brother. The grumpier twin (Van was pretty sure this one was Aster) looked at it and made a face.

“Did it have to be lemon?”

“There wasn’t any peach,” his twin replied, a little tiredly, dropping back down into his chair.

Aster sighed – and then looked up in surprise as Gian placed a can in front of him, picking up the lemon one.

“Here; it was the last one,” he said, ears pink. “I know you like peach flavour best.”

Aster’s mouth hung open for a couple of seconds, before he said, “That’s Aster – I’m Thomas.”

“No, you’re Aster,” Gian said, mildly. “I can tell you two apart.”

Aster’s mouth closed again, and he gave a kind of shrug before opening the can of peach juice. Thomas grinned.

As Gian walked over to the Halverton table, Van raised his eyebrows. “Is this a part of ‘crushing Exton’?” he hissed.

“You’re one to talk,” Gian returned. Van had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

He dug through his pockets and took out a battered deck of cards, shuffling through it for something to do with his hands. Maybe he could talk Scott into a game of Scopa.

Over on the Exton table, Jesse checked his phone and made a noise of discontent. Marcel gave him a sly look.

“Still no reply?”

“He’s probably busy training,” Jesse said. He was speaking quietly, but his voice carried in the near-silent cafeteria – and Van was straining his ears for potential gossip material. “I’m sure he’ll message back any day now. We used to spend all our time together – he won’t go silent on me forever.”

Marcel smirked. “Well, he might be busy with that Cox guy.” Jesse glared at him, unamused. “I can’t relate, though-” Marcel pulled out his own phone. “Harvard is always very responsive.”

“Harvard?” Van repeated, forgetting that he was pretending not to listen in. “As in, the Kings Row captain?”

Gian and Scott both looked over, also thirsty for new gossip. Even Sungchul took out an earphone.

Marcel looked as smug as the cat who’d got the cream. “We’re just having some fun,” he said. “Seeing where it goes.” For some reason, it made Van feel irrationally annoyed.

“Didn’t Harvard also go out with Dafna, a while ago?” Gian mused. “From Coach Ponomorenko’s team?”

Scott gave a snort. “I hope you’re prepared to face the wrath of Aiden Kane,” he said, in a voice that carried.

Marcel glanced at him and raised his eyebrows. “And why?”

Scott only smiled knowingly. Aster supplied, “They’re rarely seen without each other.”

“And did Aiden ask Harvard out on a date? No?” said Marcel. “He’s free to challenge me if he wants to prove himself.”

Van was sure that he’d bested Harvard on the piste multiple times.

“Fencers are all so competitive,” Sungchul murmured. His fingers were flying over his phone screen, and Van recognised that he was playing Tetris – another entry on the list of things that Sungchul had casually mastered.

“What’s your score now?” he asked, idly.

“500,671,” said Sungchul. “I’m going for a new high score.”

Thomas Leventis raised his head quickly like he’d sensed blood in the water. Looking back, Van would identify that as the moment everything went to hell.

“Mine is 502,573,” he said. “Can you beat that?”

Sungchul lowered his phone very slowly.

“In my sleep,” he said.

“Oh, boy,” said Scott, at the same time as Jesse sighed, “Here we go.”

Ten minutes later, Van was part of a tight circle of onlookers watching as Sungchul and Thomas spun blocks and erased rows at lightning speed. He had no idea what was happening, but it was apparently very important.

“502,580,” Sungchul said.

“502,620,” Thomas returned, immediately.

“502,776.”

“502,881.”

Van looked at the clock on the wall. “Uh... I think we need to go check in with Coach?”

“Here’s the thing,” Coach Brooks told the assembled members of Halverton and Exton who had managed to tear themselves away from the Tetris showdown. “There’s good news, and bad news.

“The good news is that the Halverton bus is ready to go. The bad news is that Exton’s engine problems are going to take a while longer to fix.” Coach Brooks looked meaningfully at her team. “However, we do have room on our bus for some extra passengers.”

Van’s eyes widened. The prospect of sharing a bus with Exton for the rest of the drive to the meet... Of helping Exton...

An hour ago, they all would have jumped at the chance to get one over on Exton by leaving them in the dust.

On the other hand, although Van would never admit it aloud, their rivals could sometimes be tolerable. And well, ‘crushing Exton’ was more fun when Exton was actually there to be crushed.

Scott made eye contact with his teammates, and Van gave a slight nod of assent.

“Yes,” Scott said to the two coaches. “We’re more than happy to be generous with our bus space and help out a fellow team in need.”

Aster rolled his eyes, while Jesse gave a nod that could be interpreted as gracious or mocking, depending on how you wanted to read it. “We’re honoured by that generosity.”

“All aboard, then,” Coach Brooks said, somewhat amused.

Marcel turned to Van. “Hey, now’s your chance to prove how well you can master needlecrafts! I can’t wait to be impressed.”

Uh-oh. Van cast around for someone, anyone else to be his seatmate. Coach Donati, counting her students onto the bus, suddenly frowned.

“Where’s Thomas?”

Coach Brooks looked around. “And where’s Sungchul? Would someone go and get them?”