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)
I am not a Raven.
Jean scratched through the list of available jersey numbers, striking them all off as unworthy of his consideration, and scribbled a shaky signature on all the requisite lines. He almost broke the pen after the first one, but gamely stuck to it until he was done. He dropped the pen off the side of the bed and reached for the kitchen timer on the nightstand.
Wymack and Abby had given him permission to summon them for anything he wanted these last few weeks, but he’d refused. Whether he was hungry or thirsty or had to piss, he simply waited until the next time one of them showed up for another reason and then made his needs known. He wasn’t going to make them feel wanted or admit he needed help. But now he finally cranked the dial up and back again to force an obnoxious ring.
Wymack stopped by not even twenty seconds later.
“I will change my mind if you do not take it,” Jean said, putting the timer away.
“I’ll get it faxed over in the morning,” Wymack said, and collected the papers. “Anything else while I’m underfoot?”
Jean only shook his head, so Wymack left the room with Jean’s future in his hands.
Jean knew when USC received it because he got a text message from Jeremy the next day that just said “Nineteen??” Based on the Trojans’ strict numbering system, it wasn’t about his future jersey number, which left only one option. Just as he figured it out, Jeremy sent a clarifying text, “You’re a junior.”
“The master,” Jean started to type, then deleted it and started over. “Coach Moriyama graduated me early so I could start with Kevin and Riko at EAU.”
Jean still wasn’t sure how many forged documents or dollars were involved in that fiasco, but joining the Raven lineup at sixteen had been a living nightmare. They’d all been so much bigger and stronger than he was; he’d had to rely on simply being better. Getting shown up by a child had not endeared them at all to him, especially when he’d spent a week climbing into bed with them. If not for Zane, Jean’s freshman year would have been significantly uglier, he was sure.
Jeremy’s text distracted him before his thoughts could tilt down dangerous corridors. All he’d sent was a thumbs-up emoji. Hoping that was the end of an unnecessary conversation but not trusting Jeremy to stop while he was ahead, Jean turned his phone off.
There were only a handful of weeks left in the semester, and only one of his teachers had figured out how to get his final exam to him. Jean wasn’t worried about his classes now that he had an obscene amount of time to get his coursework done, but he had a backlog of games to watch and a new team to study. He’d only played against USC during championships his freshman and sophomore year. He knew Kevin recorded all their matches like he’d perish if he missed a single one, but Jean hadn’t seen the point of obsessing over a lineup that was only relevant in passing.
He could ask Kevin to loan him the tapes, but getting Kevin started on the Trojans was always a mistake. Jean would have to do the digging himself. The perfect match was scheduled for the following night, when USC and Edgar Allan went at each other in semifinals, but Jean had plenty of hours to kill between now and then and years’ worth of games to catch up on.
By the time Friday’s game started, Jean had a good idea of what to expect and had managed to retain half of the current line-up. USC lost, as Jean knew they would. They were very good, but their refusal to escalate to violence held them back when it was the Ravens they were up against. Jean had seen this same restraint in the Foxes only a few weeks ago, but whereas the toll it’d taken on the Foxes to behave had been noticeable, USC never seemed to lose a beat. They played a clean and enthusiastic game like the Ravens weren’t hurting them at every available opportunity.
“Unhealthy,” Jean said, but of course no one in the post-match show could hear him.
Someone caught up to Jeremy as the Trojans were filing into the locker room. Jean looked for the lie in his too-bright eyes and too-wide smile. Where was the disappointment, the frustration? Where was the grief at having been so close and failing? Did the Trojans legitimately not care so long as they were pleased with their game, or had they come to terms with this loss when they set themselves up against the Foxes? Jean didn’t know, and for a moment he hated it with a blinding rage. No team should be so blasé about a loss, especially one of the Big Three. They could not be this good and not be at all upset about falling short.