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)
“Thanks,” White said dryly. “Do you have to say it like that?”
“Beside the point,” Lisinski said, exasperated. To Lucas she said, “It’s the truth, Lucas. We couldn’t have signed Jean if Edgar Allan wasn’t willing to negotiate his scholarship with us. We confirmed his status with both President Andritch and Coach Moriyama before we faxed the paperwork to South Carolina. Jean was removed from the Raven lineup in March due to egregious injuries.”
Jean didn’t recognize that word, but since Lucas was already running his mouth, he didn’t get a chance to ask.
“That’s not reassuring,” Lucas said, leaning past Lisinski to see Jean. “Everyone knows you sprained your LCL in scrimmages. If they cut you over something that small, it means they were just looking for an excuse to throw you in the trash. I’m right,” he insisted when Jimenez gave him a shake. “Why else would they only ever parade two of the perfect Court around? They knew Jean was a mistake and were too afraid to cop to it.”
“Permission to break his face, Coach?” Jean asked.
“Denied,” White said.
“It wasn’t just his LCL,” Jimenez said. He glanced at Jean at that, hesitating. It took Jean a moment to realize the coach was testing his resistance to this conversation. Jean slid his gaze away, leaving it to Jimenez to decide how much he wanted to disclose. When he didn’t protest, the defense coach turned on Lucas and said, “You did notice the no-touch jersey, I assume? The Ravens kicked his ribs in.”
That startled Lucas into a moment of silence, and Jean thought it telling that his first hesitant response was, “Did Grayson…?”
As angry as he was, Jean couldn’t lie. “Not this.”
Lucas subsided for a moment, and Jimenez risked letting go of him at last. Lucas betrayed that trust a scant second later when he asked, “What’d you do? What?” he asked at the molten look Lisinski sent him. “If you can break ribs through someone’s chest armor you must really want to hurt him. I don’t think I’m out of line asking why they did it.”
Why? Jean thought, and for one wretched, ridiculous moment all he could hear was Jeremy’s voice in his head: “I’m sorry that he tricked you into thinking you deserved it.” Jean made a cutting gesture with his hand like he could dislodge such a useless sentiment. Jean was a Moreau. He belonged to the Moriyamas now and always. His job was to be whatever they needed him to be. For Ichirou that was a reliable source of income; for Riko it had been an outlet for the cruelty and violence eating through Riko’s heart. Maybe ‘deserve’ wasn’t the best term, but it wasn’t wrong.
“Accidents happen in scrimmages,” Jean said.
“Piss on that,” Lucas said.
“Enough,” Jimenez said, losing his patience with both of them. He turned on Jean first, expression stern. “I know this isn’t ideal for you, but it’s a done deal. We’re willing to make a home for you here, but you have to meet us halfway. Keep that temper of yours in check and start acting like a Trojan if you want to see any time on the court this fall. Understood?” He waited for Jean’s tense nod before turning an equally frustrated look on Lucas.
“And you,” he said, and Lucas had to look away. “You know better, so be better. Forget everything you saw on the news and anything your brother’s told you; it’s obvious there’s a lot more to the story than any of us know yet, so stop jumping to conclusions and wipe the slate clean. You worry about your performance on the court and your academic year. Let us worry about our team’s reputation. Yes?”
“Yes, Coach,” Lucas said, with a stiffness Jean didn’t believe.
“The next time I see you two fighting, you’ll both be benched until October. Now run it off. I’ll tell you when you can stop.”
The backliners peeled off their gloves and helmets before starting off around the inner court at a slow jog. Jean started first, so Lucas waited a few seconds before following a safe distance behind. Jean counted steps then heartbeats to try and stay out of his head. He ended up mentally listing and reviewing drills when that wasn’t enough to distract him. He’d finally found a comfortable place of not-existing when Lucas drew even with him.
“Tell me why you hate him.”
Jean flicked him a cool look. “There are not enough hours in the day.”
Lucas scowled out at the empty stands. It took him half a lap before he replied, and Jean didn’t miss the way the coaches watched them like a hawk as they passed side by side. When they turned the corner and put a safe distance between them and the benches, Lucas finally figured out what he wanted to say.
“I don’t know him anymore,” he admitted. It annoyed him to say it, judging by the look that pulled hard at his face, but Lucas looked away when he felt Jean’s eyes on him. “He fell off the face of the planet for four years. We figured out his first day back he wouldn’t have even come home if his coaches hadn’t made him. He didn’t apologize for ghosting us, didn’t ask what we’d been up to in his absence, didn’t even ask me how things were going with the Trojans. I couldn’t even get him to look at me until I asked him about you.