Return of Miles 1Q

Coach Dan stood facing the three teens, then bent at the knees, his body crouching down into en garde position. The teens mimicked his stance, and when he called for them to advance while stepping backward, they stepped forward in unison, like metal being drawn in by a magnet’s pull.

Coach Dan took a quick glance off to his left, saw Miles and Double-J, both fully equipped, facing each other in a foil bout (Double-J agreed to do foil? That’s a change.), Rex standing off to the side to direct the bout, Annie near to Rex, arms folded across her chest, the pensive look on her face visible even from a distance. Coach Dan returned his focus to the footwork drill he was conducting, ignored the clatter of the bout.

Rex called Halt, followed by a curse shot from Double-J. “This is why I don’t do POINT WEAPONS!”

“I’d have had you too if this was sabre.” Miles tone was aloof, as if he felt obliged to provide the information he was given, yet took no real pleasure or interest from it. “You drew your arm back before you lunged. Foil, sabre, I could see it coming, know what parry I want to use before you even begin your attack. Point weapons aren’t your problem, pal, it’s right-of-way weapons.”

Double-J scoffed. “If you’re trying to sell me on epee, I’m not buying.”

Rex stepped between the fencers. “Is this a bout or a debate? Score’s 1,” pointing to Miles, “zero,” pointing to Double-J. “Back to start, please.”


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