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)
“Derek is economics. Thompson, not Allen,” Jeremy said, and Jean belatedly remembered the Trojans had both a Derek and a Derrick on their offense line. “Xavier’s in communication, and I think Shawn is too. Do you really want the whole line-up or is that good enough for now?”
Jean stared at him. “That’s impossible.”
“That I know them all? I’ll probably be guessing at least half.”
“That they’re all different,” Jean said. “Who signed off on that?”
“I’m lost,” Jeremy admitted. “Help me out a bit here, because it sounds like you’re implying the Ravens all study the same thing?”
“We do,” Jean said, and Jeremy’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel. “Ravens are required to take our classes together.”
“Their,” Jeremy interjected quietly. “Their classes.”
Jean scowled a little at his slip. “The easiest way to ensure someone is available is to give all Ravens the same major. Exceptions can be made at a freshman level if two students agree to pursue the same degree, but they’d have to have it approved by the—Coach Moriyama. No one is ever bold enough to ask him.
“Except Kevin,” Jean corrected himself. “He wanted to study history, so he begged Riko to do it with him.” Riko had agreed on the condition that Kevin do all of Riko’s homework for him. It was why Jean had ended up sitting in on Riko’s classes in Kevin’s absence: no one else on the lineup was taking the same courses. Jean didn’t have to keep up, just show up and sit in a back corner. Last fall he’d slept through them, but for a few months this spring he’d spent them texting Renee. “They’re the only two I’ve ever known to stray.”
“A little honesty?” Jeremy asked him. “That’s just a mite bit hecked up. You’re telling me you didn’t even get a choice in what to study?”
“What I study is irrelevant,” Jean said. “My only purpose is to play.”
“Yes, but... You didn’t even have a choice?” Jeremy asked. When Jean didn’t answer, Jeremy raked a hand through his hair in an agitated gesture. “That’s kind of sad. Unless you like business, of course, but I think you should’ve been able to choose. Probably too late to change now, being a rising senior and all, but you could pick up a minor or audit some classes, I guess. That’s what I do: I pick a fun class once a semester to balance out the rest.”
“School is a means to an end,” Jean said. “It doesn’t matter whether or not I enjoy it.”
“So you don’t,” Jeremy concluded. “Enjoy it, I mean.”
It wasn’t the relevant takeaway, so Jean didn’t waste his breath. Jeremy was quiet for the next few miles as he chewed on this insight. Jean assumed he’d move on to the next topic when he got his wits back, but Jeremy said, “Kevin warned me you wouldn’t want to take your classes alone and that I’d have to find someone to go with you. He could have at least explained it a bit better.”
“He isn’t used to explaining himself,” Jean said. “He’s used to simply getting his way.”
That made Jeremy laugh. “I get that impression of him, yeah. Oh, to be the pampered elite.”
Jean blinked and saw the white scars on Kevin’s hand. He remembered Kevin calling him a year ago and begging him to refute the rumors Edgar Allan was transferring districts. His stomach churned in rebellion.
“He’s earned the right to be arrogant,” Jean said, as evenly as he could.
Jeremy didn’t notice Jean’s teetering mood but said, “We’ll work it out, one way or another. With twenty-nine of us surely there’s got to be some overlap. Coach Rhemann is probably on vacation already, but Coach Lisinski lives in the city and she’s got his credentials memorized. I can ask her to pull the full list of majors if you want to see it, but your registration window isn’t open until the end of June, so I’m not sure you can do much about it yet.”
“Jackie Lisinski,” Jean said, testing his memory. “Fitness coach.”
“Oui!” Jeremy said, looking insufferably pleased with himself for all of two seconds. “That’s actually the only French I know, I think. Want to teach me any?”
“No,” Jean said, so fiercely Jeremy shot him a startled look.
Jean barely saw it. He was years away, watching a different beautiful boy lean in close to say, Will you teach me when he’s not watching? It could be our secret.
The unexpected weight of a hand on his shoulder had Jean lashing out, and the car swerved to the sound of too many horns as Jeremy briefly lost control of the wheel. Jean came back to himself with a sickening lurch as Jeremy tried to find his lane again. He folded his arms tight across his chest and squeezed like he could somehow crush his pounding heart into dust. In his peripheral vision Jeremy was waving hurried apologies out his window at the car he’d nearly sideswiped. It was another mile or two before Jeremy finally risked looking at him again, but Jean kept his stare out the window.