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)
The silence that followed was deafening, and then Jeremy managed a startled, “What?”
Rhemann held his stare and said again, “They’re disqualified.”
The locker room erupted in pandemonium. Suddenly everyone was shouting, but Jeremy couldn’t understand anything anyone was saying. He could only stare at Rhemann in disbelief until Laila caught hold of him. She shook him until he looked at her, and the chaos came into too-sharp focus. Across the room Derek pumped his fists in triumph and yelled, “No Ravens in finals! Let’s fucking go!”
The younger Trojans teetered between nervous excitement and alarm, but the upperclassmen had a hungry look in their eyes. They’d spent four and five years coming up short at the finish line, but how could they possibly lose now? While Jeremy would’ve preferred to defeat Edgar Allan fair and square, he’d take victory in any form. He wanted to win so badly he felt ill.
Cat plastered herself against his side. “It’s down to us and Penn State. Maybe the—” Here she faltered as reality set in, and she motioned to Rhemann. “Any news from the Foxes?”
“No official statements have been made,” he said, and that was sobering enough to quiet his team down at last.
It wasn’t an outright no. Jeremy wondered if that meant he’d heard something from Wymack off the record. He honestly wasn’t sure how often the two coaches spoke, since the Foxes and Trojans had only crossed paths the first time last year. He knew Rhemann had great respect for Wymack and the way he’d crafted his unorthodox team, and Rhemann had never hesitated to throw his weight behind Palmetto State when the ERC seemed poised to strike the small team down, but they had an entire continent between them. It was still possible, he supposed; such setbacks hadn’t stopped him and Kevin from forming an unlikely friendship.
“All right,” Rhemann said. “Now that we’re all on the same page, let’s trust Coach Wymack to handle his team and the ERC to do what they can for Edgar Allan. We’ve still got half of a match left to get through, so let’s get our heads back in the game.”
They had about twelve minutes left of break, enough time to acknowledge the solid efforts of the starting lineup and prep the second-half crew with tips and insights. Jean slipped into the room with only a few minutes left and immediately took up a spot at Jeremy’s side. There was still more tension in him than Jeremy wanted to see, but Jeremy couldn’t blame him for being uptight. Jeremy wanted to ask how he was holding up and if he’d spoken to Renee or Neil, but he didn’t want to distract his teammates this close to serve.
He managed to bite his tongue until the half was underway, and then he asked, “Have you heard from the Foxes?”
“I called Renee,” Jean admitted. His eyes tracked the ball as it was thrown this way and that, but Jeremy could tell in a glance he wasn’t paying attention to the match. Jean’s thoughts were with Renee still and whatever news she’d had to share. Jeremy wondered if Jean would make him ask, but then Jean dug his fingers into his side as hard as he could. Jeremy knew what he was going to say before Jean said it: “Jasmine fractured two of Neil’s ribs. The angle of her blow and his padding saved the rest.”
It was what he’d feared, and Jeremy couldn’t stop a quiet, “Jesus.” That took Neil off the lineup for the rest of fall semester; he’d be lucky if he made it back in time for the last one or two matches before winter break. It was a minor blessing that the Foxes had recruited more strikers, but they were both unseasoned freshmen. If either was half as clever or talented as Neil, the Foxes still had a fighting chance, but it was a miserable way to start the season.
Better than a fatal overdose, Jeremy thought, and asked, “Kevin?”
“Bruised and angry,” Jean said.
There were still too many shadows on his face. Jeremy mentally went down the lineup and asked, “Andrew?”
Jean’s hand slid up to his shoulder, finding the spot where Williams’ racquet made contact. “Fractured clavicle. Winfield hasn’t determined yet if it needs surgery; she is seeking a second opinion.” Jean’s mouth pulled tight in displeasure. “Renee will tell me as soon as a decision is made.”
That Jean seemed equally invested in Andrew’s recovery as he was Neil’s was unexpected, but Jeremy couldn’t be heartened by it right now. He couldn’t think of any teammates over the years who’d broken their collarbones, but he imagined it would sideline Andrew for at least a few months. Renee was reliable enough, and they had a freshman to fall back on if she needed relief, but the Ravens had put the Foxes on a hard back foot. Jeremy wasn’t sure they could pull off two miracle years in a row.