CHAPTER SEVEN
J eremy
--------
L ucas returned on Monday morning. Jeremy privately thought it too early to be back on the court, but this had to be Lucas s decision; the lineup was large enough Rhemann could ve approved just about any amount of time to grieve. Jeremy attempted just once to catch him alone, but Lucas refused to hear anything he wanted to say. The junior put a hand up as soon as Jeremy said his name and said, Not you, cap. I can t hear it from you.
Maybe he should have pushed, with all the trite words that only worked on perfect days, but Jeremy mutely relinquished Lucas into Cody s care. If Lucas didn t want his help, Jeremy would focus instead on Jean. Jeremy wasn t sure anyone else noticed, as they were busy smothering Lucas with careful, gentle attention, but Jean didn t once get within ten feet of Lucas. How he pulled it off when they had only a few lockers between them, Jeremy didn t know. He wanted to ask Jean at break, but there was no good lull in Cat s chatter.
When practice ended, Lucas didn t even stick around long enough to shower. He peeled off his gear, yanked on his day clothes, and was out the door with Travis and Haoyu chasing him. The awkwardness of it all made the showers quieter than usual, and Jeremy wasn t surprised when his teammates were in and out faster than normal. Cody and Xavier hung back, but Xavier waited until it was just the three of them before finally cranking his shower head off.
He say anything to you? Xavier asked.
He didn t want to talk to me, Jeremy admitted.
Do you blame him? Cody raked both hands through their brutally short hair. When they noticed Jeremy watching them, they gave an uncomfortable shrug and said, How can you understand what he s dealing with? Maybe if it d been Bryson-
What the hell, Cody? Xavier interjected. That s enough.
Cody winced but persisted. I just mean it s not the same kind of loss. What Lucas needs to cope and grieve is going to be completely different from what worked for Jeremy. Remembering Grayson in his heyday won t help him when Lucas is so desperate to figure out the why and who he became while he was gone. It s not you he needs to hear from, they said again, with a glance at Jeremy to gauge his reaction. It s Jean.
That s not going to happen, Jeremy said. Cody frowned, so Jeremy put a bit more force in his words: That s final, Cody.
Jean wouldn t even talk about Grayson with them; there was no way Jeremy was asking him to have a heart-to-heart with the man s grieving brother. Jeremy would never make Jean spell it out, but he knew what Grayson had done at Evermore. The truth was in Jean s fierce avoidance, in the way he dug at his own throat when Grayson came up in conversation, in the hideous bites Grayson had left on his skin when he hunted him down at the court.
That Laila put it together felt inevitable; that she d done it so quickly made his heart ache. They d barely made it into June when she cornered him for confirmation, and Jeremy couldn t lie to her when she spelled it out first. He assumed Cat found out while Laila was processing this horrific news, but the rest of the floozies didn t have the same easy access to Jean s life. Maybe if they d seen Jean s injuries, they would figure it out, but Jean was careful to keep his neck covered at practice.
Cody was studying him thoughtfully, so Jeremy finally said, I m sorry.
Cody waved that off. You know him best. I ll follow your lead.
Thank you, Jeremy said, and the three left the showers at last.
They dressed in their separate rows, and Jeremy saw them off before moving to the inner court with his books.
Jean had acquired a second student, it seemed: Mads was out with Tanner at the half-court line. Jeremy wasn t sure what they were trying to accomplish, but from Jean s body language the drills were obviously not going well. Jeremy would understand if the freshmen gave up and retreated, but the two simply waited until he finished chewing them out before trying again.
When Mads completely butchered the exercise a third time in a row, the Raven in Jean threatened to come out at her. It was lucky for all of them that Mads was laughing at something Tanner said, as neither of the freshmen saw it when Jean s hand went back with every intent to strike. Jeremy s heart gave a startled lurch as he came off the bench, mouth open on a warning that would come too late.
Jean remembered himself just in time. He aborted the swing so forcefully he had to take two steps back and turn away, and he stormed off toward the first-fourth line. Tanner and Mads turned at his abrupt retreat, confused. Jeremy thought he heard Tanner s voice echoing off the wall, but Jean only waved him off with a quick flick of his racquet.
The freshmen jogged off to gather their scattered balls, but Jeremy had eyes only for Jean as he paced short lines back and forth. On one of his laps, Jean finally noticed Jeremy on the sidelines. He came to stand across from him with only the wall between them. Walking it off had taken some of the tension from his shoulders but none of the frustration out of his face. Jeremy idly wondered how much of that was at his trainees for failing, himself for wanting to hurt them, or Jeremy for keeping a close eye on him.
They d always known the Ravens were capable of extreme violence, and Jeremy had seen more than a few clips of the ugly brawls Jean got into on the court, but somehow, he d still forgotten. Jean had been working hard to curtail his aggression on the court these last few weeks, courtesy of the contract he made the Trojans offer him. He slipped up now and again-throwing Jeremy off his feet, leaving bruises all down the arch of Derrick s foot, and slipping in a nasty trip here and there when he wasn t thinking-but this felt different.
Jeremy wondered what the trigger was behind this near-miss: was Mads really that offensive in her performance, or was Jean so caught up in Raven drills he d forgotten who and where he was? After everything he d seen of Jean this summer, Jeremy leaned toward the latter, but he would have to have a serious talk with Jean later. Jeremy wouldn t put his teammates at risk no matter how badly Tanner wanted to learn the Ravens tricks.
He wasn t sure Jean could hear him, both through the wall and his helmet, but Jeremy enunciated Be nice, and hoped Jean could at least read his lips. Judging by the way Jean scowled, Jeremy figured he got the message. It wasn t the most encouraging response, but Jeremy needed to believe it was enough. More importantly, he needed Jean to know that Jeremy trusted him to do the right thing. Rather than push Jean for more concrete reassurances, he held up his French book where Jean could see it and offered a cheery, Salut!
It didn t matter if Jean could hear him-the look that crossed his face when he realized what Jeremy was holding was more than enough. He looked genuinely thrown, like he hadn t believed Jeremy was being serious about learning, and his confusion was enough to finally take the lingering irritation out of him. Jean treated Jeremy to a searching look, and Jeremy tipped his head to indicate the freshmen who were waiting for him.
Have fun!
Jean rolled his eyes as he turned away. Jeremy laughed as he retreated to the bench to study, reassured that Jean s mood was steady enough to continue. He set the book aside in favor of his LSAT guide, and he flipped to where he d left off. Five minutes later he hadn t read past the first sentence, so Jeremy dropped it over his shoulder and went back to studying French.
-
J uly slowly settled into a routine. Lucas and Jean continued to avoid each other, unable to reconcile their differences when Grayson s suicide sat unresolved between them. By the end of his first week back, Lucas was no longer rushing out of the court after practice. By Tuesday of the second, he was talking to everyone except Jean, but his hollow performance on the court gave lie to his feigned normalcy.
Jean, meanwhile, collected two more Trojans for his daily drills: Sebastian and Dillon. Since Cat and Laila would have to plan around these lessons in August, Jeremy volunteered to stay with him at the stadium that summer. It should have been perfect, an hour of focused study time before he was distracted by his friends at home, but after three days of staring at the same chapter header Jeremy dusted off his portable CD player and brought his French CDs to the court. He walked laps as he talked to himself, stumbling his way through unfamiliar phrases and tricky pronunciations. When Jean was finally through, they headed home together.
Sometimes the four of them crowded the island as they ate, cheerfully meandering from one topic to the next as they reveled in each other s company. Jean excused himself the nights they watched movies, more interested in picking through the Trojans matches on his laptop. Convincing Jean to use the living room when Laila had no game shows on took a bit of work, as Jean was keenly aware the TV was not his. Jeremy stuck with him those nights, as much to relive his team s best plays as to hear Jean s unfiltered opinion.
Once a week Jean called Dr. Betsy Dobson-supposedly. Jean made his calls from the study but never bothered to close the door; aside from a simple greeting Jean said nothing else. He sat at his desk with his phone at his ear, toying with his wristband from the 4 th of July party and a sand dollar he d picked up at some point. Jeremy had no idea how Dobson was filling the time, but whatever she had to say was more than enough to ruin Jean s mood the rest of the night. Jeremy got used to taking him for a late run on Tuesdays; he could think of no other way to bleed the anxious rage out of his rattled teammate.
A few times a week Cat kidnapped Jean for motorcycle lessons: sometimes getting out of the house before morning traffic became too much of a snarl, other times taking advantage of the long days and heading out after rush hour slowed down a bit. The first few times they went, Jean looked a bit like he regretted the life choices that had brought this down on him, but each successive lesson made him a little less reluctant to leave the house.
On the 22 nd , Jeremy finally settled on the simplest message he could think of for Kevin: We re keeping Aaron in our thoughts this week. How is everyone holding up?
They lost focus a week ago, Kevin sent back.
Whoever said texts couldn t convey tone had never messaged Kevin Day. Jeremy couldn t help but smile as he tapped out a quick, Who can blame them? Knowing exactly what the answer would be, Jeremy followed up with, Let us know if you need anything at all, okay?
Keeping up with the trial that week was a task and a half. Reporters couldn t get inside, but they could track who came and went to the courthouse. Andrew was among the first called to testify, and it was unbelievably lucky that Dr. Betsy Dobson arrived right behind him. Jeremy had two seconds to appreciate finally having a face to go with Dobson s name when someone was heartless enough to put a camera in Andrew s face. Andrew threw it halfway across the street, and the look on his face said he had every intention of sending the journalist after it. Dobson somehow got him inside without further carnage.
Another reporter stopped by Palmetto State for a comment, but Coach Wymack had absolutely no patience for vultures. Security barricades went up at the stadium the same day, and every other picture snapped of the Foxes that week was taken from about a hundred feet back.
Kevin was due at court that afternoon, but Jeremy was on lunch break before he saw the photograph in his news feed: Andrew going down the stairs as Kevin went up them, as far apart from each other as they could be on the stairwell. Caught halfway between them was Neil, standing still as a stone as if he wasn t sure which one of them he was supposed to be following. Jeremy found the answer by accident, when Cat showed him a news clip later: Andrew left by himself, and Neil accompanied Kevin inside. Jeremy went through six different drafts before finally texting Kevin a simple, Are you okay?
He knew Kevin couldn t respond until he was freed for the day, but by eight that night he gave up waiting. The silence was answer enough. Jeremy winced and set his phone aside.
Laila muted the end credits of her show and said, That bad?
That bad, I think. Jeremy saw the look on her face and reached for her, and he let her crush the blood from his fingers. He willed her to believe him when he said, It s going to work out, Laila. I promise.
That would be a first, was all she said.
The only other Fox called on to testify that week was Nicholas Hemmick, who got into a spectacular confrontation with his parents when they arrived at the courthouse the same morning. Security had to practically body him up the stairs, but it set the tone for the rest of the day. The press continued to dutifully spy on the courthouse and report back names, but Jeremy recognized no one else. Character witnesses, he assumed, who could vouch for Aaron Minyard. The odd one out was the girl reported as Aaron s girlfriend, a cheerleader who d been notably absent the first day but showed up every single day after that.
Jean s quiet, No verdict, distracted Jeremy from his endless scrolling on Wednesday.
Jeremy glanced up, looking first to Laila where she was reading in her chair, then to Jean where he was supposedly watching a match on the far end of the couch. It was the first time all week Jean acknowledged what was happening with the Foxes. Jeremy had wondered if it was apathy or avoidance, considering Aaron was on trial for murdering a rapist, but he d resisted asking. This felt like an answer a few days too late, and Jeremy set his phone aside.
Not yet, he admitted. Maybe tomorrow?
Laila set her book aside and left. Jeremy wondered if he should follow, but she was back less than a minute later with her brush. She lightly bopped Jean on the head with it before retaking her seat and saying, Come here. When Jean just stared at her, not following, she pointed an imperious finger at the ground in front of her. Sometime today, preferably.
Jean was clearly suspicious of her intentions, but he settled on the floor in front of her. As soon as she put the brush to his unruly black hair, he tried to take it away. I can do this myself.
I know you can, she said, moving it out of his reach.
It s almost grown out, he said next, thinking perhaps that was what was bothering her. Despite that sullen defensiveness, he reached for the spots that had been so jarringly mismatched when he moved to California in May.
Barely noticeable, she agreed. When Jean didn t drop his hand, Laila batted at him and said, You see me and Cat do this with each other all the time. Watch your game and stop overthinking it.
Jean reluctantly subsided, and Laila set to work. Judging by the tense line of his shoulders, Jean spent the next several minutes trying to sort out her motives instead of watching the match. If Laila noticed, she gave no sign of it: at an outward glance she was completely focused on the Trojans match. Only the lack of a smile at a spectacular save from Cat gave her away. Jean s silence was equally telling, and finally Laila couldn t take it. She set the brush aside in favor of working her hands through his hair instead.
If you don t learn how to relax, you re going to snap in half, Laila said. Tell me about the match.
You re watching it, Jean pointed out.
I m obviously distracted.
Jean grumbled a bit in annoyance but obediently started breaking down the match thus far: reiterating and expanding on some earlier observations, then moving to real-time commentary as things started heating up on the screen. It still took the rest of the period for Jean to forgive the feel of her hands on his head; every time she shifted her grip his shoulders tightened for a blow that never landed. Only in the last minute of play did he stop noticeably reacting. Laila sighed and leaned forward, winding her arms around his shoulder in a slow hug.
You ll be the death of us, Jean Moreau.
I won t let me be, Jean said. He offered her the remote over his shoulder and said, I will not watch the rest.
An unsubtle attempt to escape her, but Laila knew to cut her losses. She took the remote and freed him, and Jean left without looking back.
The Trojans were halfway through a scrimmage Thursday afternoon when the news broke: Aaron Minyard had been cleared of all charges. Rhemann stepped onto the court to let them know, and Jeremy was off the court to message Kevin as soon as he got the okay to leave. He had to go all the way back to the locker room to find his phone, and he tossed his gloves aside halfway there so he could handle the tiny buttons.
Just heard the news-that s fantastic! We re so happy for him!!
Kevin s response took only a minute: Unexpected, if I m being honest. Then, Andrew would have burned the judge s house to the ground if he turned on Aaron. Maybe he knew that? Jeremy idly wondered if that was a joke. He was halfway through a reply when Kevin sent, They ve been a nightmare to deal with all month with this hanging over them. I m glad it s finally over.
The last, Coach canceled practice tomorrow was unnecessary, but Jeremy laughed.
Good! Take the time to take care of each other.
He set his phone away before Kevin could answer and jogged back down to the court.
-
O n August 3 rd , Rhemann came to Lyon to collect his team. Rather, he came looking for Jeremy and then went in search of Jean as soon as Jeremy peeled away from his machine. Never in Jeremy s four-plus years had Rhemann interrupted the morning workout like this; even Coach Lisinski looked on edge as she watched him steal two players out from underneath her nose. That Rhemann didn t simply pull them into the next room did nothing to put Jeremy at ease. They went all the way outside, and only when they d put about twenty feet between them and the fitness center did Rhemann turn on them.
I ve spent the last hour on the phone with Edgar Allan, he said without preamble. More accurately: I ve split the time between them and a hauling company trying to figure out how best to resolve the matter. The Ravens have sent you a gift, he explained, studying Jean with disquieting intensity. They ve dropped a car off at the Gold Court for you.
Jeremy stared. They bought him a car?
Sent it over with the title, Rhemann said, and Jeremy glanced over to see what Jean thought of that. The too-blank look on his face wasn t encouraging, but Rhemann only gave him a few seconds to react before saying, Supposedly you left it in West Virginia, so they covered the costs of getting it transferred over.
Jean looked ill, not surprised, so Jeremy connected the dots as best he could. It s really yours, isn t it?
All Ravens are given cars when they sign to Edgar Allan, Jean said slowly. Jeremy belatedly remembered Kevin saying something similar: they d given him a car, and he d used it to flee Evermore when Riko broke his hand. They should have destroyed it when they destroyed everything else. Why didn t they?
Jeremy thought of Jean s notebooks and folded his arms tight across his chest. Too expensive to be that careless with, perhaps?
It s nicer than mine, Rhemann agreed. Jeremy could have told him that everyone had a nicer car, but Rhemann had inherited that ancient station wagon from his late father and would rarely tolerate jokes about its obvious decline. Someone paid a pretty dime to ensure it made it directly to you. They refuse to leave it at the court without your permission, and I already tried twice to reschedule delivery, so I need you to ride over and sign off on the delivery.
They spent all of spring stirring up trouble, Jeremy said. Why this? Why now?
Uncharitable best guess? Rhemann shrugged and motioned them toward his car. Jean s interview is next week, and Edgar Allan knows they re going to be a hot topic. This is an unsubtle bribe to keep his mouth shut and smile away any prying questions.
Jean would never argue with a coach, but Jeremy saw the look on his face as he and Jean climbed into the backseat. You disagree?
They know I will not speak against the Ravens, Jean said.
Maybe Coach Moriyama knew that. Jeremy didn t miss the way Jean flinched at his name. They re under new leadership now, and Coach Rossi is tasked with trying to somehow salvage their reputation. He ll start with the carrot.
He let Jean mull over that for the first half of the ride, then said, You could, you know. Turn on them, I mean, he added when Jean refused to look at him. You re not a Raven anymore; you re not beholden to their contracts and expectations. You have the right to speak out about what happened to you.
Jean made a rude noise in his throat. There is nothing to say.
I m not saying you should tell people more than you re comfortable sharing, but you should establish and protect your own boundaries. Stop letting them tell your story for you.
He waited, but Jean continued to stare out his window like he wasn t even listening. Jeremy swallowed a sigh and said, You don t even have to make it personal, if you don t want. Even just some insight into what s wrong at Evermore would help start the conversation again and make people question what they ve so blindly assumed about you. The Ravens training schedule, the way you re forbidden to interact with outsiders, the ironclad meal plans... He trailed off, hoping Jean could fill in the blanks from there.
Jean asked, How long have you known Kevin?
Uhhh? Jeremy blinked, thrown. Three years, give or take? No, closer to four. He and Riko weren t on the team yet, but they attended our semifinals match with the Ravens my freshman year. They came by the bench to say hello afterward. Why?
Four years, Jean said, and you heard about the Ravens schedule from me. Their dietary restrictions, their synchronized majors, contrition, from me. Not once in four years did Kevin bother to explain himself to you , and you think I would say such things to a camera?
Jeremy grimaced at the back of his head. He s been more honest since he transferred you to us. Maybe he s almost ready to open up about it.
Sometimes you are unbearable.
Easy, both of you, Rhemann said from up front.
His tone was calm, but Jean s shoulders still hunched a bit at that hint of displeasure. The last minute of the ride passed in uncomfortable silence, and as they finally arrived at the stadium Jeremy saw the car hauler that was taking up an extraordinary amount of room. That the driver had made it through Los Angeles was genuinely impressive; that he d made it around the tight turns at Exposition Park was a miracle bordering on ridiculous. Why he hadn t switched to a smaller rollback when his load was only one car, Jeremy didn t know.
The driver s door was open. The driver himself was standing in the opening, leaning back against his seat while he smoked and played around on his phone. He looked up at their approach and zeroed in on Jean immediately. He flicked his cigarette aside, missed it completely when he went to step on it, and dragged a clipboard off his seat. A gesture toward his face indicated Jean s tattoo, and he held the clipboard out when they were close enough.
Marrow, he said. Sign here to accept delivery.
Moreau, Jeremy said.
That s what I said.
Jean didn t seem to notice, too busy reading the short form he d been handed. It looked like a standard workup from the hauling company; the top half was split between pick-up and delivery locations, and the bottom half had instructions on who it was to be released to. The next pages were the aforementioned title and associated paperwork, and a sticky note on the final page noted the car was no longer insured.
Anytime this morning, the driver said. I m an hour behind schedule.
Jean slowly scrawled his name across the highlighted lines, and the driver scooped the clipboard back as soon as he lifted the pen. Jean s keys were on the dashboard. The delivery driver handed them over without fanfare before going to get the car unloaded. Jean stared down at where the pair sat in his palm, looking very far away from here.
Getting the car offloaded only took a few minutes. Rhemann ushered his Trojans aside so the truck could finally pull out. While it would have been entertaining to watch it navigate out of the park, Jeremy was more interested in the sleek black car it left behind.
Is that an S4? he asked. Not bad.
Jean said nothing, so Jeremy went over alone to inspect it. The cross-country drive left it in dire need of a wash, but otherwise it looked brand new. The tires were in good shape and there wasn t a single dent to be seen. The only sign it d ever been driven was a small scrap of paper on the dashboard. Jeremy peered at it through the windshield, trying to read it upside down. It was a ticket stub for short-term parking at an airport.
He stepped back as Jean and Rhemann moved up alongside him. The distant look on Jean s face made Jeremy think he hadn t come over by choice, and he still was holding his keys like he was two seconds from catapulting them across the lot.
Hey, Jeremy said. What s wrong?
I don t want it, Jean said. I don t want anything from them.
Jeremy knew that warmth in his chest was inappropriate, considering Jean was distressed, but for him to unhesitatingly reject Edgar Allan s overtures was heartening. He hummed a little as he thought, then said, You could sell it, but maybe give it a week to make sure you re sure. I just don t know what to do with it in the meantime, he admitted, glancing it over. We don t have room at Laila s place to store it so long as my car s there, and it can t really stay here.
Rhemann gave Jean a minute to think it through before saying, I could park it at home until you decide to trade it in. Rhemann couldn t miss the way Jean went so tense and still, and he sent Jean a sidelong look. But I ll only take it if you re comfortable with me driving it.
I won t let it be a problem for you, Coach, Jean said. I will figure something out.
If it was going to be a problem I wouldn t have offered, Rhemann said. Just loan me a key until Monday so I can move it. Jeremy knows the way if you change your mind and want to come get it, but otherwise it can stay there as long as it needs to. I won t even know it s there.
Trust me, Jeremy said. Coach has room for it.
Jean wasn t reassured. I can t- he started, but even he couldn t think of a better solution. He fidgeted with his keys with a nervous restlessness, unable to impose on Rhemann s generosity. Jeremy put his hand out but kept it out of Jean s space: a silent offer rather than a demand. At length Jean grimaced and relinquished his keys with a quiet, I m sorry, Coach.
You shouldn t apologize for something I suggested, Rhemann said.
Yes, Coach. Sorry, Coach.
Jeremy exchanged a pained look with Rhemann but only asked, Shouldn t we drive it over there, though? If you take it, what about your car?
Adi and I can pick it up this weekend.
Jeremy nodded acceptance and passed him the keys. Thanks, Coach. We ll brainstorm our options and get it out of your hair as quick as we can.
Rhemann pocketed the keys and checked his watch. They ve only got about thirty minutes left at Lyon. Rather than drag you back there, let s have you do tens and twos until it s time for break.
Rhemann held the gate open, and Jeremy motioned for Jean to precede them to the door. The Monday after Grayson s visit he d made sure Jean knew what the code was, and since then he d let Jean handle it even though they always traveled here together. He never again wanted Jean to be in a position where he couldn t escape.
The three of them went to the locker room together. Rhemann went on ahead of them to his office, and Jean and Jeremy went to the inner court to alternate two laps around the court with ten flights of stairs. By the fourth set Jean had successfully locked away the entire problem, judging by the new calm on his face.
Cat could have undone all of that when the Trojans made it back to the Gold Court for lunch, but luckily for everyone she was smart enough to corner Jeremy alone.
There s a Raven car out front, she said without preamble. At the bemused look Jeremy sent her, she shrugged. Not my fault you don t keep up with enough Raven conspiracy theories! One for every Raven on the team, but they never leave Evermore. And get this, they have to be identical. Every time there s a major body style change that would cause a freshman s car to stand out, Edgar Allan simply sells back and replaces all of them. Absolute freaks, she said, almost admiring.
It s Jean s, Jeremy admitted, but he s pretty rattled about it, so let s just be careful how we talk about it with him? We ll have to get it insured and registered sooner than later, but for the time being it s going to hide out at Coach s place.
I ll talk to Laila, she promised. We ll figure something out.
None of them brought up the car over lunch. Aside from a few curious questions from the Trojans about missing morning practice, no one else put it together enough to ask. Jeremy was half-afraid Lucas would recognize the car, at least, but he didn t seem to notice it. Jeremy was relieved, but beneath that was a dull ache. Grayson would have had a car just like this, but the brothers were such strangers Lucas didn t even know that.
Jeremy waited until after practice was over and Jean was busy with drills before messaging Kevin: Edgar Allan sent Jean s car to the Gold Court.
Mine arrived two days ago, Kevin answered a few minutes later. My textbooks and notes, too. I d assumed the coaches sold them back to the school, but they re all accounted for.
Oh, nice! Jeremy returned, and meant it, but he couldn t resist a, They weren t damaged?
Kevin responded by sending a picture: a crammed shelf in the background, and one textbook open to about the third-way mark on a pale desk. Aside from the expected highlights and notes in the margins, the book looked otherwise unscathed. Jeremy teetered between responses, but it wouldn t be fair to diminish Kevin s delight over a cruelty he d had no hand in. Rather than bring up Jean s destroyed schoolwork he wrote, That s great!
They are scared of us, Kevin noted.
Kevin agreed, then: the cars were an attempt to buy the perfect Court s discretion. Should they be?
Kevin took his time responding, and then just sent, Remains to be seen.
Then I will see you in a week, Jeremy sent, and set his phone aside to watch Jean play.