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)
Turned out the bookstore was indeed still open, so Jeremy made a beeline for the corner with campus apparel. Jean had, unsurprisingly, come to California dressed in black from head to toe. Jeremy was determined to get a bit of color on him, and he started digging through the t-shirt racks for something appropriate. He wanted the loudest thing he could find, but he also wasn’t sure how well Jean’s sun-starved skin could handle cardinal red. There were plenty of shirts with black bases and bold lettering, but Jeremy would be damned if he put Jean in something black and red his first day in California. That left something gray or white, he supposed.
“What size are you?” he asked as he found a couple options. Jean just looked askance at him, so Jeremy said, “Housewarming gift from us to you.”
“I have shirts,” Jean pointed out, gesturing to the one he had on.
“Sure,” Jeremy said, thinking of Jean’s tiny bag. He wanted to ask how many Jean had managed to cram in there. Instead, he chose a less intrusive approach: “How many of them are black?”
His self-censure was wasted, because Jean simply said, “Both.”
The plastic hanger in Jeremy’s hand gave a warning creak. Jeremy fought to relax his grip. Keeping his tone light was the easier battle after years as the Trojans’ mouthpiece. “You’re going to need something more in line with dress code. We’re supposed to turn out in school colors on game days. We’re a ways away from the first match, sure, but if we get it now we don’t have to worry about it later when the campus is more crowded. Size?”
The curl of Jean’s lip said he didn’t buy Jeremy’s story, but he tugged at his shirt collar. Jeremy saw light glint off a silver chain but tucked it aside for another day; he’d just realized what Jean was trying to do and moved to help. Jean’s shirt was loose enough Jeremy could pull the tag around where they both could see it. He hoped to take the conversation on a lighter turn with a teasing, “Don’t even know your own size?” but it backfired almost immediately.
“Why would I? We don’t shop for ourselves,” Jean asked, and Jeremy went still with his hand on the collar of Jean’s shirt. He stared up at Jean, too startled to speak. It took Jean only a moment to realize he’d said something strange, and a frown tugged at his mouth as he sent a sideways look at Jeremy. “You do,” he said, not quite a question.
“What do you mean, you don’t shop for yourselves?” Jeremy asked in a low voice. “Obviously the school has to provide your uniforms and gear, but—your own clothes? What would they have done if you picked up a cool shirt while you were out on errands? Made you return it?”
“What errands? We didn’t leave Evermore or campus unless we were going to a game.”
Jeremy needed to back out of Jean’s personal space, but he couldn’t make himself let go of Jean’s shirt. Less than two hours ago Cat had gleefully accused the Ravens of being a cult. It was true the Ravens took their image and reputation far too seriously, but Jeremy had never put much weight into that rude rumor. Maybe Cat was right for once, and Jeremy felt ill.
“Socks,” Jeremy said. “Notebooks, pencils, bookbags. You had to need new ones sometime. Then what?”
“The coaches gave us what we needed if they were legitimate requests,” Jean said. “We just had to fill out a form and submit it before the weekend if we wanted it back by Monday. We didn’t have time to deal with distractions like that. That the Trojans somehow do speaks to an alarming amount of free time in your daily schedules. How are you a Big Three team if you spend so much time away from the court?”
“If I ask you how much the Ravens practice, will I regret it?” Jeremy asked.
“Yes,” Jean said. “I asked first.”
Jeremy had assumed it was a rude dismissal of the Trojans’ commitment, not a genuine inquiry, but there was an edge in Jean’s voice and ice in his eyes. Jean really wanted to know.
He wants to know what it was for.
The thought came out of nowhere, nearly turning his stomach inside-out. Jeremy forced himself to let go and step back at last. Jean had just finished his junior year, which meant he’d had the last three years of his life dictated to him. Everything had been outside of his control from what he’d studied to what he’d eaten to the very clothes on his back.
The Ravens had given up everything to be the undefeated champions, only to be destroyed last month by a tiny team from South Carolina. Now Edgar Allan was overhauling the program, and Jeremy understood why Jean predicted they’d implode. Everything they’d tolerated had been for nothing in the end, and maybe by now some of them had forgotten how to be their own person. Jean was in a position to finally see just how much he’d sacrificed when no one should have ever demanded it of him.