#thomas leventis

It’s not often that the Halverton Men’s Fencing Team has time to relax and hang out. However, now that the season is over, with school now verging on the cusp of a month-long winter break, they now have time to frolic and bond to their heart’s content. Though this sudden bonding session was probably aided by the fact that it was a mandatory event hosted by Captain Scott Langtree himself.

“Alright, boys, where to first?” Scott asked. The quartet was walking the streets of Bridgeport, awaiting their next adventure.

“You made us come out here without a plan?” Sungchul said, rubbing his mittened hands over his puffer jacket. The Connecticut wind was harsh and biting, despite the sunny atmosphere. The moment this trip started, all the members complained about the frigid weather, and Scott had to try not to roll his eyes.

“Duh,” Scott said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “This is supposed to be a celebration for a hard-fought season! I want you all to celebrate however you'd like! We probably won’t get this chance again, with the four of us.”

Unspoken words hung fraught from Scott’s declaration, but no one dared speak them aloud. Now that the fencing season was over, their graduating seniors were leaving for good, after a season lost not only to Exton, but to an unseen up-and-comer, King’s Row. Though they fought hard to the bitter end, they’d been unsuccessful in their goal to beat their rival, Exton, and had lost to a crummy school in the process. And while Scott had been planning to continue fencing in college, he would no longer be a part of the Halverton team. Additionally, Sangchul would not be returning to the team next year because he completed his goal of one year of fencing to train for the pentathlon.

After a brief pause, Sangchul broke the silence. “I want to go horseback riding.”

The three boys turned to him in disbelief.

“There is no way in hell I’m going horseback riding!” Gian exclaimed, adjusting his hat. At the same time, Van shook his head, long hair fluttering in the wind. “No, grazie,” Van said.

“We are not going horseback riding,” Scott said. Sungchul murmured something unintelligible but clearly ticked off.

“It has to be something realistic. I wanted to binge all three Lord Rings movies and their adjacent spin-offs, but I know that’s not going to happen. It has to be something close and doable within the next few hours. We’d have to go to a country club for horseback riding.”

Sungchul sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“How about we go to a barber shop? I’ve been needing a trim, anyway,” suggested Van. Scott shook his head.

“This is a group celebration, not a time for you to run and do your errands. Plus, my barber is in Barbados right now. I don’t trust anyone else.”

Van sneered, verging on disgusted. He ran his fingers through Scott’s hair. “I don’t trust him. You should talk to my barber instead.”

The group continued to stroll the Bridgeport sidewalks, arguing over where to spend their time. After half an hour, their legs were cramping and their voices hoarse from arguing. They stopped at a bench to rest, located in front of a luxury strip mall, home to all kinds of interesting stores.

“Maybe we should just go home,” Sungchul suggested. “None of us can make a decision. And it’s too cold.”

“Yeah, dude. We’re in Connecticut, of course, it’s going to be cold,” Gian said.

Sungchul sighed and rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Another bickering session broke out among the four boys. Their stomachs started growling amongst the chaos.

“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving,” Gian said. They all noticed a delicious smell wafting through the air. The scent of fresh bread, rich hot chocolate, and sugar cookies was too tantalizing to ignore.

They followed their noses to a nearby cafe. The bell above the door rang as they pushed open the entrance and gawked at the wonderland before them.

The inside cafe was cozy; fairy lights were hung up along the rafters, gingham fabric covered every table, and a few bookshelves were packed to the brim with mystery novels. Friends and families milled about the building, each dining on delectable treats.

“Whoa,” Gian said. “This place is awesome!” They quickly filed into line, gawking at the deserts in the glass display.

After they ordered, they took their seats at a booth in a corner, ready to chomp down on their sweets.

Gian let out a dreamy sigh as he bit into his Chocolate Explosion cupcake. He washed down a particularly rich bite with a glass of chocolate milk. “This is the life. I hate that the season is over, but it’s nice to eat something without having to worry about my calorie intake for the day.”

Scott nodded, taking a generous bite out of a cinnamon bun. “For sure. See? Wasn’t this a nice celebration to end the season?”

The rest of the team agreed. Van, who had a mouth full of an Oatmeal Raisin cookie, swallowed. “I was skeptical of this place at first, but I agree. Who knew something so cheap would be so good?”

Sungchul, who opted for a slice of strawberry cheesecake, took another bite. He looked at his cheesecake sadly as he swallowed. Though the fencing season was over, he still had to train for the pentathlons he planned to participate in just a few months from now. This was his last cheat day for a while. “It’s a little too good. I could eat the whole cheesecake.”

The four boys chatted excitedly, eating their pastries. They were about to leave the Cafe when the bell above the door rang, announcing another group of customers. They didn’t pay attention to the group at first, until a sharp gasp rang across the room.

They turned to see what the issue was, only to find Exton’s fencing team standing at the front of the store, faces aghast.

The teams stand in shocked silence, eyeing each other up and down. They finally snapped out of their stupor when someone spoke up.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Van and Gian snarl simultaneously. Scott rushes to their sides before they can do anything stupid, like start a fight. Typical unruly underclassman.

“What are we doing here?! What are you doing here?!” Aster Leventis says. Glad to see that unruly underclassmen were truly at every school.

Jesse Coste steps up to bat. “We’re having a team outing to celebrate the end of the season.”

“Same here,” Scott replies coolly. “We can coexist for a little bit, can’t we? After all, the season is over, and neither of us won State. Why are we fighting?”

The other boys looked around, pondering Scott’s words.

“I mean,” said Thomas, “he’s got a point. I just want to hang out with my friends.” He sent a side glance to his twin. “…And Aster, I guess.”

Marcel sighed. “Yeah. I’ve been looking forward to grabbing some cookies from this place for the past month.”

Jesse Coste spoke up. “I have a deal. I’ll buy both of our teams as many cookies as they could ever want, and we have a truce. Deal?”

Halverton’s team huddled around their table. After a few minutes of frantic whispering and nodding, they finally came to a consensus.

“Deal,” Scott said, reaching over to shake Jesse’s hand. “We have a truce.”

Jesse smiled. “Great. After you.”

“Hmmm. I’ve had better,” Thomas said, chewing his cookie thoughtfully.

“What?” Van exclaimed. “These cookies are delicious! They remind me of the cookies I’ve had back home in Italy.”

“No, I agree with Thomas,” Aster said. He didn’t look too impressed with his dessert. “These are pretty bland.”

“What, like you could do better?” Gian said, rolling his eyes. He was 3 cookies deep in the giant pile Jesse had bought. Clearly, he did not have the same reservations as the Exton team.

“I think we could do better,” Marcel said. He had hardly touched his cookie.

“Oh, yeah?” Sungchul said. “Then prove it.”

Scott sighed. “We just agreed on a truce, guys.”

Jesse smirked. “No, no. This is good. What use is it pretending there aren’t unresolved feelings between our teams? We both lost to King’s Row; maybe a little competition between just us could even the score, and prove, truly, who the superior team is.”

“Well, in that case, what did you have in mind? None of the local pistes are open right now, and I don’t think either of our schools will let visitors from opposing teams in right now, either.”

Jesse’s condescending smirk said it all. Whatever this “friendly competition” was, he thought they could win it.

“Well, we want to see who can make the best cookies, right? How about a little baking competition at my place? My house is big enough to fit all of us. Plus, we have enough ovens for both teams to use.”

“I’m game. What about you guys?”

The boys from both teams nodded, each smiling mischievously. This was going to be fun.

***

Jesse was right; his house was large enough to host both teams and then some. The kitchen, in particular, was about twice the size of the dorm rooms at Halverton. It would suit their purposes nicely.

“Alright, boys,” Jesse said, clapping his hands together. “These are the rules. Each team has one hour to bake the best cookies they can. When the hour is up, we will have a panel of judges choose their favorites. The winner will be declared the superior team. Ingredients have been laid out on the kitchen island. Are we ready?”

“Uh, no?” Van said. “First off, can we follow a recipe? What are the guidelines for what’s considered a good cookie? Who is on this so-called panel of judges? Aren’t the only people here your parents?”

Jesse sighed, rubbing his temple. “No, no recipes. The guidelines are taste and decoration. And no, the judges' panel isn’t my parents. It’s–”

“Whoa, what’s going on here?” A new voice called out from the foyer. It sounded vaguely familiar. From around the corner came three figures.

“Wait, they’re going to be the judges?!” Gian exclaimed. “That’s not any better than your parents!”

“Relax,” Jesse said, gesturing towards none other than Nicholas Cox, Seiji Katayama, and Bobby Rodriguez. “These are the most unbiased judges I could think of on such short notice.”

“What, your ex-boyfriend, your brother, and some other guy? That’s still not fair,” Sungchul said.

“You’re missing the point. Yes, it’s my ex and my brother and their friend, but trust me, that doesn’t earn me any other brownie points. If anything, it puts Exton at a disadvantage.”

“Jesse is correct. I do not judge based on personal relationships,” Seiji said coldly. “Whichever team has the best dessert shall be declared the winner.”

Nicholas slung an arm around Seiji and Bobby. “Yeah, I don’t care who wins. Bobby, Seiji, and I were in the middle of having a sleepover. I won’t lose any sleep over this. Plus, free cookies!”

Bobby spoke up. “How about this? We do what they do on the Great British Bake Off! You guys will know what team made what, but we’ll judge it blindly to be fair!”

Both team captains glanced at each other, nodding.

“That… could work,” Scott said.

Jesse nodded. “Alright. Then it’s settled.” He turned to the “judges,” an order ready on his tongue.

“One of you set a timer. Everyone in their places? En garde, prêts, allez!”

***

Maybe this was a mistake.

Currently, the Halverton team is making chocolate strawberry oatmeal raisin cinnamon cookies in the shapes of various fencing poses and phrases. Only, none of them knew how to make cookies from scratch, and their artistic abilities were very lacking.

“I thought you knew how to bake things, Van!” Exclaimed Gian. Van, who was currently covered head to toe in flour, gave an affronted groan.

“I do! When I have a recipe in front of me!”

“Ugh, move aside!” Gian pushed his teammate away from the mixing bowl. “Okay, what do we need? We already have flour and butter. How about some sugar?”

Halverton’s largest teammate grabbed a bag of white powder and the closest available measuring cup. He filled the cup to the brim and dumped it unceremoniously into the bowl. Next, he reached across the counter to the carton of eggs, cracking three open into the mixing bowl.

“Dude, you got some eggshell in there! Gross!”

“Wait, where?! I didn’t get any egg shell in there!”

"Uh, yeah, you did! Look at all those jagged white pieces!

“Crap! Sorry, guys.”

Sungchul sighed. “Whatever. We just have to move on. We’re running out of time.” He took the list of their combined flavors and pulled out each corresponding ingredient. However, he didn’t bother measuring out each ingredient; instead, choosing to pile them directly into the bowl.

“Ooh, wait, can we add some peanut butter?” Van asked. “I think it’d really make the flavors pop.”

Sungchul shrugged, already twisting the lid for the aforementioned peanut butter. The spread landed in a large glob in the center of the mixture.

“Okay, I think we’re supposed to mix it now. Do the Costes have a mixer?”

Scott looked around their side of the kitchen, ignoring the way Exton floundered around just a few feet away. Jesse looked far too busy to ask. Luckily, lo and behold, a mint green KitchenAid lay tucked away in a corner just a few feet away.

“Aha! Here we go!”

Scott plugged in the appliance, transferring their mixture into the larger bowl. He switched on the mixer, only to have the substance explode, covering each of the boys in a white powder.

The group could only stand there in stunned silence for a few seconds before realizing they needed to lock in. They may be covered in pre-mix cookie dough, but they still have a competition to win.

“Okay, let’s try that again.”

This time, Scott experimented with a low speed setting. Slowly but surely, the cookie dough began to form.

The group then pulled the dough out of the bowl and placed it on the counter. They had decided to separate it into four parts to roll and shape into distinct shapes with the cookie cutters Jesse had found in a drawer next to the stove. The Halverton team wanted to make fencing cookies, but the only cutters were leftover holiday shapes Jesse’s mom had bought a few years back. However, they did not let this hinder them in the slightest. They had decided to turn the gingerbread man into a fencer, the candy cane into an epeé, Santa into a fencing mask, and the stocking into a glove.

After the cookies were cut into shapes, Scott and Sungchul placed them onto a baking tray and slid them into one of the many ovens at the Coste residence.  All that was left to do was to let them bake and decorate.

***

“Oh… they look so… unique!”

Well, at least Bobby was trying to be nice. Neither team’s cookies had come out quite as nice as expected. Though the Halverton team noted that theirs looked a little deformed and misshapen, they weren’t burnt like the Exton cookies were.

“If by unique, you mean bad, then I agree,” said Seiji, eyeing the cookies with disdain.

“I’m sure they taste better than they look,” Nicholas said. He picked one up from the Halverton tray and took a bite.

Nicholas’s face immediately scrunched up in disgust. “I think you guys used salt instead of sugar.”

“What?!” Gian exclaimed, marching over to the judging table–aka the kitchen counter that had been cleaned off and laden with cookie trays. So much for anonymity.

Gian snatched the cookie away from Nicholas, inserting the pastry into his mouth. Immediately, he recoiled in disgust at the salty taste. Dejected, he sighed. “We did...”

“Hey, it’s okay. We still have to judge the other team’s cookies, as well,” Bobby reminded. He picked up a cookie from the Exton platter.

However, Bobby’s bubbly demeanor changed the second the cookie entered his mouth. His face turned an alarming shade of green, and his cheeks puffed out as he tried not to gag. Curious, Nicholas picked up one from the same tray and had a nearly identical reaction.

Seiji picked one up to inspect and cast it aside harshly. “I’m not eating either of these.”

“They’re not as salty, but somehow these are even worse,” exclaimed Nicholas. “They taste like ash. Like, melt in your mouth, in a bad way.”

“Concurred,” said Seiji. “Neither team wins.”

“What?!”

“You didn’t even have one!”

“No way!”

“You have to choose a winner!”

“This is such a cop out!”

The uproar was loud and rowdy. However, the judges were having none of it. Rather than try to argue, they left the room, presumably to return to their sleepover.

“Guess this means we won’t ever get to resolve our friendly competition like we wanted to,” sighed Scott.

“Yeah,” agreed Jesse. He sighed. He sauntered up to the fridge, reaching for the top. From there, he pulled out an unopened package of Chips Ahoy. Though he had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I have a better idea. Let’s scrape these monstrosities and have a Mario Kart tournament instead. The movie theater has enough room for everyone.”

Scott smiled back. After all, what was a little Mario Kart among friends—even if you are sworn rivals?

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?”