Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“—and Jean on the line,” Jeremy said, and the sound of his name distracted Jean from his seething.
“Worst time of year for someone to be injured,” was the easy agreement. “Rumor has it Jean won’t make it back in time for finals.”
“Yeah, I spoke to Jean earlier this week. He’s definitely done for the year, but he’ll be back in the fall. He just won’t be back in black.” Jeremy’s smile somehow got even bigger, and he was too excited to wait for a prompt. “Yesterday he faxed us over the last of the paperwork we needed to make this thing official, so I’m allowed to tell you: he’s transferring to USC for his senior year.”
Jean was slowly aware of someone in the doorway. Wymack and Abby had been watching the game in the living room, and they’d decided to leave the bedroom door open tonight in case Jean needed anything from them. There was no way either of them would’ve been able to hear the timer’s chime go off over the sound of two TVs and a closed door. Now Wymack stood propped against the doorframe with a drink in his hand. Jean didn’t have to ask him why he’d come; he must have gotten up the second they started gossiping about Jean’s absence.
Jean muted the TV. “He doesn’t even care that he lost.”
“Think so?” Wymack asked.
“Fantastic,” Jean said, echoing Jeremy’s word choices with a mocking edge. “Talented. Great fun.”
“It’s not mutually exclusive, you know,” Wymack said. When Jean frowned at him, he waved his free hand around in search of the right words. “Just because he’s proud of his team for how they played doesn’t mean he’s not disappointed they lost. Maybe he simply knows that there’s a time to be hurt and a time to wish the best for the person who succeeded in his stead. Getting sore about it on live TV doesn’t help anyone.”
“Pretending he’s not bothered by it doesn’t help anyone either.”
“No?” Wymack asked. “If someone’s watching these interviews and looking for a role model, wouldn’t you rather they choose Jeremy over Riko?”
“No. Edgar Allan is undefeated.”
“When we beat them in two weeks, you and I will revisit this conversation.”
Jean unmuted the TV, and Wymack took the hint and left.
-
With USC out of the running, Palmetto State and Edgar Allan were given a week off to rest before they’d have to face each other at Castle Evermore for finals. Jean idly wondered how anyone was supposed to focus on schoolwork considering all the chaos on the court. If he wasn’t tabbing through his assignments without seeing any of what his teachers’ notes said, he was watching USC games and tracking the online backlash against his abrupt transfer.
Not all of it was negative, though any attention was enough to make Jean’s skin crawl. Riko couldn’t be snagged for a comment, no matter how hard people tried to get ahold of him, and the Ravens weren’t allowed to speak to the press. Edgar Allan’s students were called on instead, and more than one was foolish enough to say they hadn’t seen Jean since before spring break. Between Jean falling off the face of the earth and Kevin hinting at a cover-up for his own injury, the conspiracy theorists were working overtime.
Despite their efforts to shape public opinion, the louder voices would always side with Exy’s most spectacular NCAA team. The amount of vitriol aimed Jean’s way for transferring off the lineup during championships was almost impressive.
Jean received a single email from Zane that just said “What the fuck, Johnny??” that Jean deleted unanswered. Zane didn’t try again, and Jean wasn’t sure if it was the festering wound between them or the master’s orders that stayed his hand. He didn’t have long to speculate on the Ravens’ opinion, because a gift arrived for him toward the end of the week. The return address on the box was Evermore, and it was addressed to him by care of Wymack at the Foxhole Court.
Jean wasn’t sure which Moriyama finally told his teammates where he was hiding, but he was very sure he did not want to open this box. He couldn’t not, if it was from his teammates, but Jean stared down at it in silence as he tried to steel his nerves.
“It is not for you,” he said, because Abby was still hovering.
“I’m not leaving,” she said.
She held out her hand, but Jean quickly looked away when he saw the box cutter sitting in her palm. He remembered too well what its edge felt like on his skin and his fleeting, foolish sense of triumph as he told Riko he’d rather die than endure another day under Riko’s sadistic thumb. Riko’s slow smile had given him pause, but his hungry words were what stopped Jean entirely:
“If you’re going to do it, make sure you do it right. Make sure you can’t be saved. If you survive, I will bury you alive.”