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)
It only took Rhemann a minute to sort out his thoughts, and he studied Jean with a distant look. “Just so you know, we asked Edgar Allan to send along your full medical records back in April. They agreed and even gave us a tracking number for it, but somehow the package never actually made it to us. Something tells me that wasn’t an accident. What do you think?”
“I am unfamiliar with the mail system here, Coach,” Jean said.
“Did one of your coaches break your ribs?”
“I was injured in a scrimmage, Coach.”
“Funny that you’re still calling it that when Kevin told Jeremy it was hazing,” Rhemann said, and Jean wished a thousand painful deaths on the Court’s Queen. Rhemann let that sink in before saying, “I’m going to ask you one more time, and I trust you’ll be more honest with me. Was it your coaches who broke your ribs this spring?”
“No, Coach,” Jean said.
Rhemann continued to study him, as if weighing the truth in that response. “You should know that Jackie called Edgar Allan to ask them about their training program. She made sure to ask for examples of effective disciplinary action. Turns out there isn’t a single pool on Edgar Allan’s campus. Do you want to explain that?”
For a blinding moment Jean could taste wet cloth. His control teetered, but Jean clenched his fingers harder together and said, “No, Coach.”
“Here’s the deal,” Rhemann said. “I don’t want to push you for more than you’re willing to give me, but sooner or later I’m going to have to ask some really unpleasant questions. It’s my hope we can come to some sort of understanding before we hit that point, because I need you to understand I wouldn’t pry if I didn’t feel I had to. You’re one of my kids now. I’m trying to do right by you, but that requires a bit of give and take from both of us. Do you understand?”
Jean didn’t, but he obediently said, “Yes, Coach.”
“Go on, then. I’ve kept you too long as it is. Good work today.”
Despite being the last to the showers, Jean was still the first finished by a slim margin. He dried and dressed as quickly as he could and made it over to the strikers’ row as the first of his teammates came drifting through the locker room. Jeremy was always a half-dozen bodies behind Jean, on account of chatting with too many people when he was supposed to be washing up, but Jean was content to wait and review the day’s mistakes.
Lucas made it to Jean before Jeremy did, and the tight look on his face did nothing to improve Jean’s mood. Jean didn’t miss the way Nabil went still in case he needed to intervene; judging by the impatient look Lucas flicked him he noticed it as well. Whether or not he noticed the speculative looks Derek and Derrick sent his back was another story, but Jean kept his gaze on Lucas’s face and waited for the point of this unwanted visit.
“I need to talk to you. Without…” Lucas gestured to indicate their nosey teammates. “Can you stay a few minutes late today?”
His first thought was to refuse, but Jean studied the tense pull of his mouth and hunched line of his shoulders. This wasn’t anger, but anxious anticipation. Jean would have preferred the anger, but he’d set himself up by daring Lucas to demand answers from Grayson. Jean looked down at the phone in Lucas’s white-knuckled grip and felt preemptively wearied by the conversation that awaited him.
“Hey, Lucas,” Jeremy said, cheery and loud as he sailed onto the row and made for his locker. “Nice work out there today.”
Jean was distantly aware Lucas had asked him a question, but his train of thought derailed somewhere in the damp line of Jeremy’s freckled shoulder blades. Jeremy’s roots were starting to come in, and it was more obvious now that his hair was plastered to his skull from the shower. Jean watched a rivulet of water streak down his spine toward the towel wound around Jeremy’s hips, and then the disgusted grunt Lucas made reminded Jean he had more important things to worry about. He forcibly returned his attention to his loathsome teammate as Jeremy set to work scrubbing his hands through his hair.
“Well?” Lucas demanded.
“Yes,” Jean said, though the contempt on Lucas’s face made him want to refuse out of spite. “I’ll wait.”
Lucas stormed off, the strikers went back to what they were doing, and Jeremy sent a curious look over at Jean. “Everything okay?”
“It remains to be seen,” Jean said.
Most of the team and two of the coaches were gone before Lucas came looking for him again. He looked more uptight now than he had ten minutes ago, and Jean recalculated their odds of coming out of this conversation unscathed at an exhausting zero. He got up when Lucas didn’t approach and put a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder when Jeremy moved to follow. Lucas jammed his hands in his pockets and flicked Jeremy a wary look.