Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
“That was last week,” Jeremy said, and didn’t elaborate. “Good to head home for a bit, or do you need to do anything on campus?”
“We could practice,” Jean said, glancing in the direction of the stadium.
“It’d be better to rest,” Jeremy countered. “It’s going to be a rough game.”
Jean opened his mouth to argue, then took a closer look at Jeremy’s face. When Jeremy was laughing and talking, it was harder to see, but in his quieter moments the shadows were more noticeable: he looked like he hadn’t slept in two days. The strain of his commute, Jean supposed; he remembered their ceramics classmate making a crack about Jeremy’s inevitable exhaustion. That someone outside the Exy team knew him well enough to know what was coming was annoying.
He gave in with a disgruntled, “Fine,” and it was enough to make Jeremy smile.
They were nearly to Vermont Avenue when Jeremy’s phone beeped with a coach’s alert. Jeremy glanced at the crosswalk signal before pulling his phone out and answering with a cheery, “Good morning, Coach, did we forget something?” Across the street, the light changed for them. Jeremy stepped off the curb, then seemingly forgot he was walking mid-step. He rocked to a stop so abruptly he almost fell over. Jean dragged him back to safety on the sidewalk, but Jeremy caught his wrist and hauled Jean after him across the street.
“Yeah,” Jeremy said as they reached the other side. “Yeah, I’ll tell him. Thank you.”
He hung up but held tight to his phone, and although he let go of Jean, he said nothing to him to explain the call. Jean allowed him peace until Jeremy was turning the key in Laila’s front door, and then he said, “Jeremy.”
Jeremy motioned for him to come inside and pushed the door closed behind him. Only then did he look up at Jean. “One of the freshman Ravens is gone,” Jeremy said. “A backliner named Harry Rogeson? Sounds like the Ravens found his body on a campus shuttle bus.”
Jean didn’t know the name. Maybe Tetsuji signed him after Jean’s departure from Evermore, but it was equally likely Riko was too distracted by his vendetta to track the incoming Ravens. The who was less important than the what; every other Raven to die had been an upperclassman, robbed at the finish line of their hard-earned glory. A freshman who’d narrowly avoided the Moriyamas’ violent control and the Nest’s madness should not have shattered so quickly. Raven cruelty, perhaps: the old guard taking out their heartache and trauma on the new generation.
“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said.
“It has nothing to do with me,” Jean said, and toed out of his shoes. “Go sleep.”
Jeremy lingered a moment longer, as if making sure Jean was honestly okay, and then headed down the hall to their room. Jean retreated to the living room to go over his morning notes, and he whiled away a few boring hours getting a head start on his homework. Cat showed up closer to noon with a handful of mail. She set his letters on the coffee table near where he was working, checked his expression with a pensive stare, and curled up in Laila’s chair with her own work. Half an hour later she was quietly snoring.
Jean wondered if he should wake her, then dropped his gaze to his mail. The thought of having to sort through more vitriol was off-putting, but it had to be dealt with sooner or later. He moved the stack to where it was easier to reach and began going through them.
By the time Jeremy’s alarm went off, Jean’s mood was irrevocably ruined. Jean pushed the letters aside when he heard Jeremy’s footsteps in the hall. Packing up his work was easy, and the noise was enough to rouse Cat. For a split-second she pretended to be engrossed in her studies, and then she woke up enough to remember where she was. She dropped her textbook off to one side to deal with this weekend and followed Jean to the kitchen.
They had time to eat lunch before heading back to campus, and Jean took those minutes to try and lock down every hateful accusation he’d read. None of this could matter right now; he had to get his thoughts back on tonight’s match.
They could have gone straight to the stadium, but Jeremy led Cat and Jean on a path that would rendezvous with Laila outside the architecture building. Laila had a printout of the Bobcats’ roster taped to the front of her three-ring binder, and she quizzed them on the walk to the Gold Court. Cat was more familiar with the upperclassmen than the younger players, but Jeremy was a lost cause. He knew names and positions, but nothing else, not even if they were right-handed or left.
“Why don’t you know this?” Jean demanded.