CHAPTER FOUR
J ean
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T he weekend was oddly peaceful, at least for Jean. On Saturday the press approached Lucas in San Diego with prying questions and eager demands, but his parents weren t beholden to USC s tedious rules. They reacted so poorly to the intrusion that the reporters had no choice but to retreat. Rhemann and Jeremy bought the Johnsons some peace by making a joint statement a few hours later. Laila advised Jean not to watch it, seeing how they would have to be achingly diplomatic about the whole thing, but Jean waved aside her concern as misplaced. He propped his shoulder against the living room doorframe and listened as Jeremy performed.
Jeremy was significantly better at this than Riko or Kevin ever were, perhaps because he had real pain to lean back on. Whatever Jeremy s honest opinion of Grayson, he truly regretted the effect it would have on the struggling Raven lineup and he ached for the men whose lives Grayson had upended. Anyone who listened to him speak would believe Jeremy was one invitation away from attending Grayson s funeral himself. This spring Jean had found his press face too annoying to stand. Today the act was almost calming, since Jeremy was acting as the first line of defense for Jean.
More important than Jeremy s statement was the way it forced the LAPD s hand. Once Jeremy expressed the Trojans unwavering, unequivocal support of Jean as he supposedly grieved yet another teammate, the police had to officially declare Jean s innocence. They were less kind about it than Jeremy was, but Jean wasn t bothered by their attitudes. All that mattered was that none of them explained why they were so sure. Perhaps Special Agent Browning had put the fear of God into them when they called to confirm his alibi, or maybe they decided it was too far above their collective paygrade to deal with.
Saturday evening the police gave up and officially ruled Grayson s death a suicide. The case was closed, and Jean was safe-from them, anyway. Cat spent the remainder of the weekend tracking the response across half a dozen forums and news stations, though she withheld the finer details from Jean. He interpreted that the only way he could: general opinion was as unpleasant and bullheaded as Laila had worried it would be. There was nothing he could do about it, so Jean focused on what little he could control.
Renee was a steadying presence even from so far away. She knew how to interpret his curt response to her check-in and so spent the rest of the weekend sending scattered slice of life updates. It helped pull him out of his thoughts and away from all of this.
Monday morning Jeremy drove them to practice, never mind that the stadium was an easy walk and easier jog from Laila s house. Jean had forgotten that Lucas would be absent this week. The other backliner was laying his brother to rest in San Diego, trying to come to terms with both Grayson s violent reentry to and abrupt departure from his life. It annoyed Jean more that Lucas was missing drills than it did knowing he was mourning. He thought about Riko s death, of Renee trying to hold his jagged pieces together and Kevin sitting in the pews at Riko s funeral. Jean would only drive himself mad if he tried to understand the toxic mystery that was the human heart.
Without Lucas around to fawn over, the Trojans turned their considerable attention on Jean. They d seen Jean s and Lucas s battered faces Friday morning, only to find out at lunch that Grayson was dead. With afternoon practices canceled, Lucas whisked from campus to the police station to San Diego, and Jean locked away at Laila s house, the team had gone all weekend without any real answers or outlet for their confusion. It would make sense if they blamed him, no matter what the police had to say about it. Instead, they closed ranks.
It started off subtly enough: first with Xavier, who came by his locker to ensure Jean remembered his wrist brace. Then there was Jesus, reassuring him out of the blue that his face was looking much better today than it had Friday. Cody had a peach for him, though Jean was sure he hadn t told Cody he liked them. Cat s doing, most likely, as she d spent half of the summer trying to figure out which fruits Jean would eat.
Produce had been strictly regulated at the Nest: a necessary addition for the sun-starved team, but too sugary to win the nurses unanimous approval. Most of the staff wanted the Ravens to rely on supplements, but Hamrickson somehow got the master to approve a produce delivery once a week. Bananas and oranges were her go-to, but now and then she managed to bring in kiwis. Supposedly she showed up with papaya once, but Jean had been unconscious that day.
Jean turned the peach this way and that, savoring the feel of its soft fuzz against his fingertips. There was no time to eat it now, since they were only moments from heading to Lyon, but the locker room was cool enough to keep it safe in his absence. He set it down on his shelf and pushed his court shoes in front of it, hiding it from prying eyes and greedy hands. Cat tweaked his hair when she caught him at it but said nothing to draw attention to his prize.
Derrick fell in alongside him on the run to the stadium, which meant Derek wasn t long in appearing at his other side. Derrick wasted no time at all on a good morning but said, Jeremy says you ve never been to a hockey game. That right?
Please don t get him started on hockey, Derek said, like Jean had invited either of them.
Don t listen to him, he s a killjoy, Derrick said. He has fun as soon as he s bundled up enough. But just you wait, I m gonna find us a weekend game and we ll make a day of it. You, me, Big D, Cherise-
What a colossal waste of time, Jean said.
Derrick continued like he hadn t heard. -Shane, uhhh. Hey Shawn!
Jean interrupted before Shawn could get involved. You aren t going. Maybe if you hadn t allowed yourself to get so distracted by outside interests you would ve fixed your stance years ago. Why are you allowing this behavior? he demanded of Derek. He is your partner. Why can t you corral him?
Hey, hey, Derrick said, even as Derek held up his hands in self-defense. What s wrong with my stance?
Why are you always moving?
Oh, easy. I m jamming to the tunes. Derrick smiled, like that was at all a legitimate response. Jean stared him down a minute, waiting for something more, before turning his attention back on the saner of the two. Derek only shrugged expansively and refused to elaborate. Derrick took the incredulous silence as some sort of permission and began air drumming with enthusiastic sound effects.
Jean could have-should have-left it at that, but a name finally sank through his annoyance. Cherise is not a Trojan.
Oh, she s Derek s cousin, Derrick said. I m going to marry her one day.
Keep dreaming, Derek said. She is never gonna marry a white boy.
I ll change her mind yet. Derrick nudged Jean. You ve got to see the rack on-
Derek swung half-heartedly at him, and Derrick took off toward the front of the line with a shout. Derek gave chase, hollering for Derrick to come back so they could just talk . The breeze carried Derrick s boisterous cackle back to Jean, and Jean dug a thumb into his temple to ward off a burgeoning headache.
Lisinski let Jean try the weights both with and without his brace but said nothing about his chances of participating in drills that day. Jean nearly bit his tongue to bleeding to keep from asking her. Surely Jeremy could find out, using his authority as captain, but Jean wouldn t catch up with him until they were back at the stadium.
Jean didn t look for his peach until he finished his rinse-off shower. It was right where he d left it, so he dressed for lunch and settled on the strikers bench with it cupped between his hands. Ananya was often amongst the last back to the row, as the women generally chose to dress in the restroom. Somehow she still beat Jeremy to the lockers, and she smiled at the sight of the fruit cradled in Jean s hands.
If you like peaches, you should try Cat s tarts, she said. They re fantastic.
Jean closed his fingers protectively around his snack. An unnecessary embellishment.
She nodded in the face of his rejection and went looking for Cody and Pat. Jeremy appeared almost as soon as she d left, with Cat and Laila on his heels, and the four of them made their way up the street once more.
Cat dug into her lunch as she chatted about a new exhibit at the nearby museum. Laila was an easy enough sell on the idea; if Cat was that excited to see the exhibit, then of course Laila would be happy to take her. Jeremy seemed oblivious to the chatter going on overhead, as he was sprawled on his stomach with one of the LSAT guides he d brought home Friday. Neither Cat nor Laila had seen fit to comment on their sudden appearance, an unexpected bit of self-control for such an opinionated pair.
We could go Saturday, Cat said, then realization had her tilting toward Jean. Oh, no, wait. My uncle s dealership is getting a shipment out of San Francisco this week, and his driver s gonna detour through Daly City to get the starter bike. You and I can go pick it up Friday after practice, okay? Saturday we ll have to get you a permit.
Jean still wasn t sure which way to swing on that decision, so he stalled with: I don t know where Daly City is.
Cat contemplated the surrounding buildings before pointing over her right shoulder. About six hours that direction. Most of my fam s in the bay area, actually! Have you ever been? Really? She clasped her chest dramatically when he shook his head. Well, it s a quick flight from here if you ever wanna pop up there for a weekend. I can find us some cheap tickets, I bet.
Jean wasn t sure what constituted as cheap but decided not to ask. He d gone from his parents tight grip to the Nest s suffocating control. He understood capitalism and economics in theory, thanks to tremendously boring business classes and conversations with the Ravens, but money was not something he was used to needing or having. That first visit to Fox Hills in May had been a rude awakening. Laila nearly had a meltdown when she realized how out of his depth he was, though she d repeatedly reassured him it wasn t him she was so upset with. He hadn t really understood until he saw how quickly everything added up at the register.
Laila and Cat had shouldered most of his expenses since then, allowing him to chip in only for the occasional forgotten ingredient or the new sheets for his smaller bed. Leaning on them meant Jean wasn t getting any better at understanding how to manage cash, but he had no idea how to change the situation. He knew he d get a salary after graduation-twenty percent of one, anyway-but what was he supposed to do between now and then? He d come to Los Angeles with only the four hundred dollars Coach Wymack slipped in his suitcase.
It was too big a problem with no real solution, so he said, I don t like flying.
Laila turned her head his way. Afraid of heights?
I don t like airports.
Cat didn t seem to know what to make of that. Huh. Well, I m always up for a road trip, but we ll need to plan for it a little better since it ll take longer. Heyyy, Cody! She raised an arm in greeting, and Jean watched as Cody cut across the lawn toward them. Taking a break from double trouble?
Ananya wanted to pop back to the dorms. Cody sank down between Cat and Jean and jerked their chin toward the museum. You been yet? Saw the flyers announcing it finally opened.
Soon, I hope, Cat said, enthused.
Cody glanced over at Jeremy, and Jean didn t miss the way their expression went cool as they saw what Jeremy was doing. It was more disapproval than Jean had seen from Cat or Laila, but even Cody didn t see fit to comment. Their willingness to let Jeremy entertain other career paths was annoying enough Jean had to reach out and flip the book shut. He whacked Jeremy in the face in the process, since Jeremy couldn t pull away in time, and answered Jeremy s bewildered look with a cool stare.
Stop wasting your time, he said.
I don t have a whole lot left, Jeremy said as he pushed himself up.
Despite the protest, he made no move to get back to his studying. Jean would take it as a victory if Jeremy s phone wasn t the greater distraction. They d put it back together Saturday night, and it had spent most of the evening going off with one alert or another. Jean made a quiet note to silence it the next time Jeremy left it unattended. This quiet trill was the one Jean had heard on Friday. Jeremy checked his message and glanced across the street toward the football stadium.
When Cat nudged him with her foot, Jeremy only said, Bishop.
Oh, football s finally back? Cody asked. Slackers.
You shouldn t associate with other teams, Jean said.
We re all Trojans, was Jeremy s easy response. We all represent the same school. For the most part they re good people. I think you d like some of them if you gave them a chance.
No, Jean said, and Jeremy only smiled like he found Jean s attitude endearing.
He s a bit scarce on options here, isn t he? Cat asked. Meeting the floozies first might ve skewed your perspective a bit, but truth is we re still outnumbered four to one on the team. Not a lot of boy kissers, for obvious reasons. She made a noise in her throat like she found the idea repulsive and laughed when Cody gave her a playful push. Like you d know, chickenshit. Or did you finally grow a spine?
Unsurprisingly, Cody ignored the question. Jeremy s been the token gay on the team for two years. Endangered species around here.
Last one was Julian, and he was an asshole, Cat said, souring immediately. He was so cruel to Xavier, and for what? I was so glad Coach transferred him out of here. She yanked up a few strands of grass and twisted them into knots between her fingers.
Laila gauged her dark mood in a glance and finished for her. Most of our teammates accept us as we are because they like us too much to judge. A few are still working on it, as you ve likely noticed, she said, and he assumed she meant Lucas and his rude mouth. But being friends with us doesn t mean they re willing to be propositioned, so... She gestured toward the football stadium. Cast a wider net.
Preference is a weak excuse, Jean said.
Most of the Ravens had identified as straight, but with so few women on the line and the team so isolated from everyone else, they d made do with any man willing to tumble. Aside from Riko and Kevin, Jean knew only two other Ravens who d refused to cross that line at the Nest. One, technically, since the other had that choice ripped away from him in January. Jean dug his nails into his bandaged wrist until the sting quieted his thoughts.
Cody sent him a curious glance before asking Jeremy, Meeting up today?
Probably not the best day, Jeremy said. With everything that s happening, I mean.
Excellent day, Cody insisted, and pointed from him to Cat. You go meet up with Bishop, and you take Laila to the museum. Leave Jean with us! Have you given him a tour of campus yet?
I showed him the highlights, Jeremy said.
Before he had his schedule? Cody asked. When Jeremy nodded, they motioned to Jean. Then we ll take you on a proper tour and show you where your buildings are. Put a little order to the chaos and give you a better idea of what to expect. We ll even feed you something you don t have to cook.
Oh, good luck, Laila said dryly, even as Cat said, He s going to be a master chef one day, just you watch.
I will never understand you, Cody said, with only fondness in their voice.
Cody can t make anything more complicated than grits, Cat told Jean before jabbing an accusatory finger at Cody. They re almost as useless as Jeremy is in the kitchen. Jeremy s got a private chef. What s your excuse?
Laziness, Cody admitted without hesitation or shame.
Living off cereal and takeout is why you re so short, Cat decided.
Cody leaned toward Jean. Don t listen to her. Mom is four-ten.
Jean stared. You re lying.
No, look, I got a picture of her here. Cody rocked to one side to dig their wallet out. The plastic flap that should have held their ID instead had a picture of Cody and Mrs. Winter. Jean wasn t sure what was more appalling: the thick neon green hair Cody sported in the photograph or how abysmally short their mother was. That Cody had gotten to five-five was a miracle of nature, even if it made them the third shortest on the team after Min Cai and Emma.
Jean cast a sidelong look at Cody s current hair, which was now buzzcut and fire engine red. Do you even remember what color your hair is supposed to be?
Oh, blond, Cody said, and grinned over at Jeremy. Naturally blond.
Explains a lot, honestly, Cat said. Her watch beeped a warning, and she packed her dirty dishes into the lunchbox with a melodramatic sigh. Lunch gets faster and faster every day, I swear. We ready?
They headed back to the stadium as a straggling group. Cat and Cody went a mile a minute about an upcoming event, but Jean stopped listening when he realized they were talking about one of their online games. Jeremy was drumming an uneven beat on the back of his guidebook with his blunt fingernails. Halfway back to the stadium he thought to look over at Jean and ask,
Are you up for it? Going with Cody, I mean.
It is a more practical use of my time than a museum.
Cat interrupted herself to offer an indignant, I heard that!
Jeremy is also terrible company, Laila said. The last time we tried to bring him anywhere cultured he disappeared on us almost immediately. Said he was going to the bathroom and ended up dozing in the caf near the gift shop. It took us almost an hour to realize he hadn t come back.
Jeremy answered her accusatory look with a toothy smile. If you didn t even miss me, no harm no foul.
They were among the first back, and Coach Jimenez was lying in wait for them. He motioned Jean over and sent him along to the nurses corridor for a quick check-up. Jeffrey Davis was on duty today, and Coach Rhemann was waiting with him. Jean tolerated Davis s poking and prodding in silence, hoping his pliant behavior would win Rhemann s favor. Rather than give a verdict, Davis just motioned and left the room. Jean looked from the closed door to the whistle hanging from Rhemann s neck.
Your teammates are of the unanimous opinion we should put you in for drills today, Rhemann said. Davis seems to think you re up for it physically, but I want to know where your head is. He folded his arms across his chest and rolled his stool closer to Jean. It was an attempt to catch his eye, but Jean skirted it easily. Thompson was careless enough to admit he thought the violence would do you good, but I don t want you out there if you re going to hurt yourself or them.
Yes, Coach.
Can you play today as a Trojan?
Yes, Coach.
You re allowed to think about it, Rhemann said wryly. I would trust you more if you did.
Yes, Coach.
Rhemann studied him. The longer they sat, the more certain Jean was he d done something wrong. Or was Rhemann waiting for him to answer again? Jean weighed the potential consequences of speaking out of turn and decided silence was the better course of action. In the end Rhemann cracked first.
When is your first session with Dr... Dobson? he finished, a little uncertainly.
First week of August, Coach, Jean said.
And there it is, was the weary response. Last Thursday you sat in this exact spot and said you were going to call her. As soon as you got home, you said. He waited a beat, but Jean sat silent and frozen. There is only so much we can do for you here. I want to know you re getting the help you need.
Jean clawed for the only thing that might save him: I had an unexpected guest, Coach.
Rhemann s face was inscrutable. Neil Josten. Is he getting you into trouble?
That malfunctioning cretin existed to cause trouble for everyone in a thousand-mile radius, but Jean only said, No, Coach. When it was obvious that wasn t a reassuring enough answer, he added, I had asked him to look into something for me, so he was sharing the results. An easy enough lie, since it was the foundation of what they d told the FBI. Neil had told Browning he was in Los Angeles to hear what Stuart Hatford had found out about-
The hot weight of fingers around his wrist snatched him back from dangerous thoughts, and Jean was almost startled into looking Rhemann in the face. He hesitated when he realized he d dug half-moon marks into the back of his hand. Slowly he relaxed his grip, and Rhemann released him shortly thereafter.
And you think you re steady enough to be on the court, Rhemann said.
It wasn t quite a question, but Jean knew he was two seconds from being relegated to the bleachers all afternoon if he didn t work his way back into Rhemann s good graces. This won t impact my performance, Coach, Jean said, lifting one hand to his temple. I am perfect Court; I can always play. I will not fail you. Please let me prove it.
Has it occurred to you that there is no perfect Court anymore? Rhemann asked. It was Moriyama s obsessive daydream, and he is unfortunately no longer with us. Day rejected his place in it, and Josten only had his number for a few months. You re the last man standing. I m not questioning your skill or dedication, he added, putting a hand up like he honestly expected Jean to argue, but you ve got to start looking beyond that narrow dream. If there s no perfect Court, there s just you, and you have to take care of you. You ve got to learn how sooner rather than later. Do you understand?
Yes, Coach.
Look at me when you say it.
Jean dragged his stare up and knew immediately from the look on Rhemann s face that Yes was not the right answer. He amended it to an I m trying, Coach, and that was enough to take some of the stiffness out of Rhemann s expression.
Here s the deal, Rhemann said, and waited to make sure Jean was listening. I m going to let you participate in drills and scrimmages this afternoon on the condition you pull yourself should anything start acting up. On top of that, he said before Jean could respond, I want you to call Dr. Dobson and see if she can speak with you once a week until your regular schedule starts in August. I will follow up with you tomorrow to see what her response is.
Jean could see no quick way out of it. Yes, Coach.
All right. Rhemann rolled his chair out of Jean s space and said, Go suit up.
Jean went for his locker like he thought Rhemann would change his mind. As soon as he lifted his helmet off its hook, Cody made a loud yipping sound. It was picked up by the rest of the defensemen in increasing volume, and Jean sent a nonplussed look at Cat when she joined in. She just grinned and knocked her helmet to his in encouragement. Jean wrote the line off as a half-mad loss and focused on getting changed.
Jimenez and White took turns putting the Trojans through their paces: suicide runs, cone drills, and a half-dozen other exercises that put a good ache in their thighs and a steady prickle of sweat down their backs. After a week it was easier to remember where the Trojans tweaked theirs from standard-or where the Ravens had, Jean wasn t sure-and Jean was content to throw himself into everything the coaches put in front of him. Thinking about Exy was easy, and it was loud enough and big enough to drown out all the rest.
The first partner drill of the day was a basic one: a simple push and shove to practice getting past each other. All last week Jean had been working with Jeremy, but today Derrick came jogging over with a wild smile.
Okay, okay, let s see it, he said. Show me why my stance is bad.
You should already know, Jean said as Derrick settled in front of him.
White hadn t blown his whistle yet, but Derrick was already moving, bobbing almost imperceptibly. It sent him rocking on his feet, a subtle heel to toe and side to side that Jean assumed made it easy for him to change direction on a whim. Besides being irritating, its fatal flaw was how predictable it was. Like Derrick had said earlier: he was bobbing to music only he could hear. He was slave to a beat, and Jean could count it out with little effort. As soon as White blew the whistle, Jean put his foot forward. He caught the underside of Derrick s foot right as he was shifting, and Derrick teetered off-balance immediately.
Danger, Will Robinson, Derrick yelped as he stumbled.
There was no such person on the team, so Jean waited in silence for him to take his place again. Derrick almost immediately settled back into his rhythm, and Jean idly counted it as he waited for the whistle. The timing this second time let Derrick get a step on him, but Jean didn t try to follow; he didn t have to. He simply darted his foot out to the side and got his toes right into Derrick s arch again.
Technically speaking, tripping isn t the Trojan way, Derrick said as he went back to the starting position. He was smiling, though, like this was the funniest thing he d dealt with all day. So this is smart and all but if you go around kicking our opponents Coach is gonna pull you off the line.
This team s sole redeeming quality is its talent, Jean said, annoyed. The thrill you take at being pushed around is nonsensical.
When you figure it out, you ll understand.
Speaking nonsense for the sake of hearing your own voice, Jean accused him.
Derrick gave an explosive huff and rolled his eyes, then launched into motion at the sound of White s whistle. Despite Derrick s warning, Jean was feeling meanspirited enough to kick his arch a third time in a row. The look Derrick sent him in response was almost pitying.
Like, here s the thing, yeah? Derrick said. The Ravens are very good, no one s denying that. Insanely talented, wicked fast, just- He made a whooshing noise that Jean assumed was supposed to convey his level of respect and envy. But there s just so much hatred in their playstyle. If someone told them to win a match without getting a single card, they couldn t do it.
Penalties and cards are part of the game, Jean said. There is no benefit to treating them as if they re taboo.
See, that s where you get lost. Derrick pointed his stick at Jean. We re not out here like oooh, fighting s so childish, we could never stoop so low, oooh. It s like... This time Jean s kick was hard enough he nearly fell, but Derrick only grimaced and settled back into place. It s not about being superior, it s about being better. Does that make sense?
No.
The only way you can stop me is by kicking me and hurting me, Derrick said. And maybe you ll always win in our matchups. But if it s dirty tricks and not talent you re falling back on, I m still the better player in the end. Right? That s the thrill for us: finding a way to come out on top without resorting to violence and cheap shots. We don t need to hurt our opponents. We re faster and slicker and we move better on the court. When s the last time we lost more than one fall game?
I haven t studied your team s history that closely.
Ah, no big, I don t know the answer either.
This time Derrick added an unexpected side-to-side weave where his beat should have been, and he shouldered past Jean with ease. He dropped to his knees and put his arms to the air as if celebrating a game-winning goal, head tipped back so he could howl victory at the court ceiling. Jean watched him for only a moment before planting a shoe to one shoulder and pushing him over.
Take all the fun out of it, why don t you! Derrick griped as he got to his feet.
Exy is not supposed to be fun, Jean said.
Derrick stopped to stare at him. The hell? he managed after a minute. Of course it is. Hey no, he said, catching at Jean s racquet when Jean started to turn away. You re like-you re Jean Moreau . Perfect freaking Court. What do you mean it s not fun? You play like you do and what, it s all just a bothersome chore? I don t know if I should be impressed or terrified that we re so far beneath your notice.
You are not, Jean said, because as frustrating as this team was Jean couldn t lie about their abilities. The only reason I agreed to transfer here is because your team is good enough to be worth my time.
But it has to be fun, Derrick said, clinging to the least important statement like a barnacle.
Why? Jean demanded. Will you refuse to play if it is not?
Derrick scrunched his face up as he thought. Across the court White blew the whistle to signal the end of this set of drills. Jean started to turn away, but Derrick refused to relinquish his stick. He followed when Jean tugged and finally offered up a response:
Yeah, I would. I m not saying every day is sunshine and kittens, but Exy s gotta be fun. When it stops being that and starts just being a tiresome thing I m forced to do, then it s time for me to walk away.
I mean, right now I don t have a choice, Derrick conceded. On account of my scholarship and whatnot. But after I graduated? If I hadn t come back around to enjoying it again, I d drop it like a hotcake and find something new to chase. Life s too short to be miserable all the time. You really going to stop playing when you leave here, then?
That violent twist in Jean s chest might have been grief; it was just as likely to be acidic resentment. I will never stop playing, he said, and wouldn t dwell on the I can t that echoed like a second heartbeat against his thoughts. This is all I am.
You said that at introductions last week, Derrick recalled as he finally let go of Jean s racquet. He studied Jean, expression uncharacteristically serious, and finally asked, I thought it was just some cool catchphrase, but you really mean it, don t you?
There was no point repeating himself, so Jean simply left. He caught up with Cat halfway to the starting point for their next drill, and she knocked her stick to his in greeting. Despite her smile, her eyes were intent as she studied his face.
Looking kinda grim, she said. Moreso than usual. Holding up all right?
Dwelling on Derrick s hypothetical future was a waste of time, so Jean put his energy toward the more offensive part of their conversation: the assumption that Derrick was the better player. The Trojans were a phenomenal team and had been for almost the entirety of their existence, but Derrick couldn t hold a candle to Riko or Kevin. He wasn t even good enough to think himself Jeremy s equal. That he would declare himself more talented than Jean was repugnant enough to put Jean on edge. If they were at Evermore, Jean would put Derrick in the nurses care for such arrogance. Here that wasn t an option.
I m going to destroy him, he said.
Hyperbolically speaking, I hope, Cat said.
Jean only shrugged and left it to her to decide.