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)
During the summer the Trojans’ three nurses alternated who was on duty: one remained at the stadium while the other two filled shifts at the campus health center. Today Ashley Young was on-site. Jean hadn’t realized the room had a radio, but Young was bobbing her fork in time to the beat as she flipped through files one-handed. The realization he was interrupting her lunch had him taking a step back out of sight, but she must have seen movement in her peripheral vision.
“Come on in,” she called, and Jean braced as he moved back into the doorway.
She finished skimming her page before looking up, and realization startled her into a moment of stillness. “Oh,” she said as she pushed her lunch aside and flicked the radio off. “Jean, I’m glad you stopped by. Come next door with me.”
They moved to the same room Rhemann had put Jean in yesterday, and Young took quick stock of his stained face and jaw. She had the authority to simply rip his bandages off, but Young only pressed careful fingertips to the tape and asked, “Do you mind?”
“You are my nurse,” Jean said.
She peeled it free in one steady move and dropped the gauze into the nearby bin. She looked her fill while Jean contemplated the same photograph he’d studied yesterday. The antiseptic didn't sting nearly as much today, and Young waited until she’d covered his injuries up again before trying to catch his eye. Jean feigned not to notice, but it didn’t stop her from asking,
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“There is nothing to talk about.”
“No?” Young’s fingers dropped unerringly to the violent scratch marks on his arm. “This is not a solution, Jean. I don’t want to see this from you again.”
She gave him a moment to defend himself before setting to work on his wrist. Jean let her test his range, silently hoping her vote in his favor would override the coaches’ decision to sideline him, but the dull ache from this morning’s weight routine was quick to make an appearance. Young’s expression was grim as she traced the line of scabs. Grayson had bitten him with every intention of breaking bones, and he’d gotten dangerously close to the delicate veins in Jean’s wrist.
“You were very lucky,” she said, like she’d read his thoughts. She wrapped his wrist with easy efficiency and dug a brace out of the nearby cabinet. Jean balked at the sight of it, but she slid it over his hand and into place even as he tried to pull away. She pressed the Velcro straps into place, said, “Test it?” and made a few quick adjustments as he slowly flexed and clenched his fingers. “Good. Do you have anything for the inflammation?”
“Xavier told me to ask you,” Jean said.
She accepted that with an easy nod and rummaged through a drawer. “We’ll start with this,” she said as she pressed a packet of two pills into his palm. “Check back with me before you leave for the day. If it’s not helping, I’ll send you home with something stronger to take this weekend. Anything else we need to address?” She waited for his refusal before stepping out of his way. “Go eat, then. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
He hadn’t been gone for more than ten minutes, but the locker room had cleared out for lunch in his absence. Only his friends and Xavier remained, waiting on the strikers’ row with the lunchbox by Cat’s feet. Xaiver’s agitated tone carried even if his words didn’t, and when he followed Jeremy’s gaze to Jean, he went quiet and still.
When Jean reached them, Xavier offered a polite, “Good work this morning,” before setting off toward the door.
Jean waited for him to leave. “He is angry with me.”
“No,” Jeremy said, and when Jean wasn’t convinced, emphasized, “No, I promise he’s not. He’s just concerned. You told him Edgar Allan wouldn’t treat your LCL?”
“He asked,” Jean said.
“Oh, he is so mad at them,” Cat said. She scooped up the lunchbox and got to her feet. “Come on! It’s too nice a day to eat inside. Let’s have a picnic.”
Up the street and across from the football stadium was a museum with a grassy lawn. A group of kids had claimed most of the available space and were running wild while their parents watched. Backpacks and bottled drinks were scattered along the curb where a half-dozen teenagers were skateboarding in the street. Despite the chaos there was plenty of room for the four of them, and Cat passed out lunches after they were settled.
They were only a few bites in when Jeremy’s phone made a sound Jean hadn’t yet heard. Cat hooted and planted herself against Jeremy’s shoulder.
“Bishop?” Cat asked.
Jeremy’s correction was distracted as he considered his texts. “Sheldon.”
Laila was sprawled spreadeagled on the grass on Cat’s other side, but she poked her sunglasses up to her forehead so she could squint at Jeremy in obvious disapproval. “Last I heard, he told you to lose his number. Why didn’t you?” Jeremy’s smile was so slow and satisfied Jean had to look away. Laila huffed and slid her sunglasses back into place. “Never mind, I don’t actually want the answer to that.”