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)
“If he’s ever ready,” Kevin said, and Jeremy didn’t think it was the distance that made him so quiet. “Jean was perfect Court, but he was not born into the game, and he was not afforded the same… decency and freedoms Riko and I were allowed. He is not used to having a voice, and he has never had power. I cannot promise he will ever talk to you.”
“I will wait as long as it takes,” Jeremy said. “Did Riko break your hand?”
“There are maybe a dozen people who know the answer to that question,” Kevin told him. “We’ve decided to withhold most of the details of last year even from our freshmen now that it’s mostly resolved. Do you understand?”
Jeremy looked toward Cat and Laila. “It won’t leave this room.”
Cat mimed zipping her own lips shut and gave her heart a quick cross.
“Then yes,” Kevin said. Jeremy had feared it was coming, but hearing it had his stomach bottoming out. He propped his free elbow on his knee so he could bury his face in his hand. Kevin was still talking, and as much as Jeremy needed to hear it, he wished he didn’t have to listen: “There was a debate in the ERC that I was the better striker and that I was holding back so as not to outshine Riko. The master pit us against each other to determine the truth.”
Hearing master from Jean had been hard enough; hearing it from his brilliant, unparalleled friend was a thousand times worse.
“I let him win, but the game was up,” Kevin said. “He retaliated.”
“Jesus,” Jeremy said, because what else could he say? Riko Moriyama had been hailed as the future of Exy his entire life. Jeremy had grown up inundated with interviews of the so-called King and his flawless righthand man. Riko had a sly edge to him that occasionally teetered toward frosty and rude, but he’d never come across as vicious outside of the court.
For months now Riko had been written off as another victim in the news, a shining star who’d detonated under the weight of his own legend. And maybe in many ways he still was, but a martyr could still be a monster when the cameras weren’t rolling.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I’m glad they let you go.”
“Oh, they didn’t mean to,” Kevin said, “but they were foolish enough to give me a car my freshman year, and it had just enough fuel in the tank to get to a gas station. A fan paid for my fill when she saw my tattoo. I was on the interstate before they knew I was gone.”
Nothing about this was at all funny, but that brazen escape drew a ragged laugh from Jeremy. “Ballsy,” he said. “I like it.”
“Jeremy,” Kevin said, half-away from the phone. Jeremy heard a muffled voice somewhere in the background. “No, Jean is fine. As fine as he can be, anyway. Yes, I know.” He sighed a little as he came back on the line. “We’re about to head to the court. Is there anything else you needed?”
Jeremy moved his phone away to check the clock. “Did you change time zones?”
“Night practices with Andrew and Neil,” Kevin said.
“Obsessed,” Jeremy said, with no heat. “No, I don’t think there’s anything else right now. Thank you, Kevin. I mean it. Thank you for trusting me with the truth.”
“Be careful with it,” Kevin said. “Be careful with him.”
“I’m trying,” Jeremy promised, and Kevin hung up.
Jeremy dropped his phone off to one side and took a minute to try and sort his thoughts into any reasonable order. He was distantly aware of Cat and Laila moving into the room at last. When he looked up, though, he looked to Jean, who still stood ramrod straight with his back to all of them.
A starving dog, he’d thought just a few minutes ago, and Kevin’s words only confirmed that unkind assessment. Jeremy thought about Evermore with its suffocating locker rooms, a team that was forced to live and play and take classes together, coaches who handled every interaction with the outside world, and the aggressive brutality that such confinement would inevitably breed. Jeremy knew they’d horrifically hurt Jean his freshman year, but Jean still grieved them. This entire wretched confession started because Cat attacked his love for them.
Jeremy thought about a King who could not afford to be anything but the best, raised by a coach who made his Ravens call him “master”. That Riko had broken those closest to him was not a surprise, but the depth of his depravity and cruelty were unforgivable. Every time he blinked Jeremy saw the scars layered over Jean’s skin and heard his offhanded “I have always gotten what I deserved.”
“Jean,” he said. “Won’t you look at me?”
“No,” Jean said. “Go away.”