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)
More important than Jeremy’s statement was the way it forced the LAPD’s hand. Once Jeremy expressed the Trojans’ unwavering, unequivocal support of Jean as he supposedly grieved yet another teammate, the police had to officially declare Jean’s innocence. They were less kind about it than Jeremy was, but Jean wasn’t bothered by their attitudes. All that mattered was that none of them explained why they were so sure. Perhaps Special Agent Browning had put the fear of God into them when they called to confirm his alibi, or maybe they decided it was too far above their collective paygrade to deal with.
Saturday evening the police gave up and officially ruled Grayson’s death a suicide. The case was closed, and Jean was safe—from them, anyway. Cat spent the remainder of the weekend tracking the response across half a dozen forums and news stations, though she withheld the finer details from Jean. He interpreted that the only way he could: general opinion was as unpleasant and bullheaded as Laila had worried it would be. There was nothing he could do about it, so Jean focused on what little he could control.
Renee was a steadying presence even from so far away. She knew how to interpret his curt response to her check-in and so spent the rest of the weekend sending scattered slice of life updates. It helped pull him out of his thoughts and away from all of this.
Monday morning Jeremy drove them to practice, never mind that the stadium was an easy walk and easier jog from Laila’s house. Jean had forgotten that Lucas would be absent this week. The other backliner was laying his brother to rest in San Diego, trying to come to terms with both Grayson’s violent reentry to and abrupt departure from his life. It annoyed Jean more that Lucas was missing drills than it did knowing he was mourning. He thought about Riko’s death, of Renee trying to hold his jagged pieces together and Kevin sitting in the pews at Riko’s funeral. Jean would only drive himself mad if he tried to understand the toxic mystery that was the human heart.
Without Lucas around to fawn over, the Trojans turned their considerable attention on Jean. They’d seen Jean’s and Lucas’s battered faces Friday morning, only to find out at lunch that Grayson was dead. With afternoon practices canceled, Lucas whisked from campus to the police station to San Diego, and Jean locked away at Laila’s house, the team had gone all weekend without any real answers or outlet for their confusion. It would make sense if they blamed him, no matter what the police had to say about it. Instead, they closed ranks.
It started off subtly enough: first with Xavier, who came by his locker to ensure Jean remembered his wrist brace. Then there was Jesus, reassuring him out of the blue that his face was looking much better today than it had Friday. Cody had a peach for him, though Jean was sure he hadn’t told Cody he liked them. Cat’s doing, most likely, as she’d spent half of the summer trying to figure out which fruits Jean would eat.
Produce had been strictly regulated at the Nest: a necessary addition for the sun-starved team, but too sugary to win the nurses’ unanimous approval. Most of the staff wanted the Ravens to rely on supplements, but Hamrickson somehow got the master to approve a produce delivery once a week. Bananas and oranges were her go-to, but now and then she managed to bring in kiwis. Supposedly she showed up with papaya once, but Jean had been unconscious that day.
Jean turned the peach this way and that, savoring the feel of its soft fuzz against his fingertips. There was no time to eat it now, since they were only moments from heading to Lyon, but the locker room was cool enough to keep it safe in his absence. He set it down on his shelf and pushed his court shoes in front of it, hiding it from prying eyes and greedy hands. Cat tweaked his hair when she caught him at it but said nothing to draw attention to his prize.
Derrick fell in alongside him on the run to the stadium, which meant Derek wasn’t long in appearing at his other side. Derrick wasted no time at all on a good morning but said, “Jeremy says you’ve never been to a hockey game. That right?”
“Please don’t get him started on hockey,” Derek said, like Jean had invited either of them.
“Don’t listen to him, he’s a killjoy,” Derrick said. “He has fun as soon as he’s bundled up enough. But just you wait, I’m gonna find us a weekend game and we’ll make a day of it. You, me, Big D, Cherise—”
“What a colossal waste of time,” Jean said.
Derrick continued like he hadn’t heard. “—Shane, uhhh. Hey Shawn!”