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)
For a moment Jeremy couldn’t hear the crowd. “You aren’t serious. It was that bad?”
Kevin looked past him and just said, “Yes.”
Jeremy half-expected him to elaborate and was almost glad that he didn’t. He’d seen many sides of Kevin, including the scathing diva he hid from the press, but he’d never seen Kevin so rattled and quiet. Jeremy’s thoughts went unbidden to the question that had started this awful conversation and he felt positively ill. If Jean Moreau was off the court due to hazing, then how much truth was in the barbed comment Kevin had made about his hand? The Ravens were famous for their violence, but could Jeremy believe they’d hurt their own star players?
“He’s very good,” Kevin said. “He deserves to play for a Big Three team.”
Jeremy knew of Jean, even if he’d never met the man face to face. It’d be impossible not to notice the gray-eyed Frenchman with a bold number on his face. He’d been on the lineup when USC and Edgar Allan faced each other last year and the year before, but he’d started in a different half and Jeremy had never had to handle him on the court. Jeremy didn’t doubt he was phenomenal if he was a Raven and one of the so-called King’s perfect Court, but good wasn’t enough to cut it in California.
Kevin mistook his silence for refusal and said, “But if you don’t have room for him—”
“It’s not that we don’t,” Jeremy said, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. They had three fifth-year backliners this year, and Coach Rhemann had only signed two to replace them. “I don’t know his stats but since you’ll vouch for him without looking sour then I know he must be talented. It’s just that he’s a Raven, and we’re…” He gestured helplessly up at the stands. “Could he fit in here?”
“He hasn’t played a clean game in years,” Kevin admitted, “but he knows how to follow orders. If you tell him to submit, he will.”
“Literally the most awkward way you could’ve worded it,” Jeremy said.
He meant to lighten the mood, but Kevin only shrugged and said, “You’ll understand when you meet him.”
Jeremy thought it over, but what could he possibly say? Kevin was asking him for help. What kind of friend or Trojan would he be if he couldn’t live up to that? “I can’t promise it’s a yes without talking to my coaches, but from me it’s a yes,” he said. “I’ll hash it all out with them tonight when everyone else has gone home. Maybe you’ll remember to leave me your new number so I can give you the good news.”
Kevin smiled, slow and pleased. Jeremy gave his shoulder a tight squeeze in response and held up his roster. “Now that you’ve upended my expectations for the night, allow me to return the favor. I’ve got a surprise for your team.”
They headed back over to the Foxes, who were trying and failing to look like they hadn’t been watching the pair the whole time they’d been gone. Jeremy stopped before Coach Wymack once more and held out his paper in offering.
“Our line-up,” he said as Wymack unfolded it and looked it over. “It’s late to be getting it to you, I know, but we were trying to avoid as much of a backlash as possible.”
“Backlash?” one of the Foxes asked.
Wymack passed the roster over so she could see it. “Your pity’s a little misplaced,” he told Jeremy. “Tell Coach Rhemann we don’t want handouts.”
“This isn’t pity,” Jeremy said. “We’re doing this for us, not you. Your success this year has us rethinking everything about how we play. Are we second because we’re talented or because we have twenty-eight people on our line-up? Are we good enough as individuals to stand against you? We have to know.”
Kevin snatched the paper away from his teammate so fast he almost tore it. One of the others popped up at his shoulder to see. Jeremy couldn’t see his number past Kevin, but he didn’t need to. The tallest man on the Foxes’ lineup was Boyd, a backliner. The chances of Boyd being his partner on the court seemed pretty high, so Jeremy sized him up as surreptitiously as possible. Most backliners he went up against were stocky, trained to barrel strikers over and body them out of the way. Boyd’s height was a rare challenge, and just thinking about it had Jeremy buzzing with glee all over again.
“There are only nine names on it,” Boyd finally said, for the sake of those who couldn’t see.
“Two goalies, three backliners, two dealers, two strikers,” Jeremy agreed. “You’ve made it this far with those numbers. It’s time to see how we’d fare in that situation. I’m excited. None of us have ever played a full game before. Hell, most of us don’t even play full halves anymore. We don’t have to because the numbers are always in our favor.”