Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Jeremy gently knocked his knee into Jean’s and gestured to where a pair of men were standing in the middle of the room. “Representatives from the ERC,” he said. “Schumaker’s been around forever, but I don’t remember the younger one. Willis? Williamson? Uhhh... Laila?”
“Whitney,” she said without hesitation.
“I could live a hundred lives and never be as smart as you,” Jeremy said.
“Maybe if you would learn to read,” she returned.
Jeremy put a hand over his heart. “I read for class. That counts for something.”
“Company,” Jean said, a half-second before something fell past Jeremy’s face. Jeremy hadn’t even heard someone move up behind him with all the rest of the noise, but he stared down at the candy scattered on his placemat with some consternation. He started to turn in his seat to see who’d brought him such an odd gift when Torres’s chair was pulled out across from him.
“Jeremy Wilshire,” Rusty Connors said as he sat, and Jeremy forgot all about the man at his back. “We were taking bets on whether you’d show this year. JJ here said you wouldn’t dare, but I had faith. Last year, and all. No way you could resist.”
Jeremy smiled at the Bobcats’ goalkeeper. “It’s still Knox, actually.”
Connors had a fistful of the same candy JJ Lander had given Jeremy, colorful paper sticks packed to the brim with powdery sugar. He tore the end from one, knocked it back, and showed Jeremy the new blue stain on his tongue. “Well, you know us, always glad to have you around. We’re even going to have a little get-together afterward for old time’s sake. You should come.”
He tore the top off another stick, but instead of eating it he dumped it in a slow line across the tablemat in front of him. Beneath the table Laila dug bruises into Jeremy’s thigh. Jeremy dragged his attention back to Connors’ face and kept it there even as the man made another tidy row. The rest of the sticks he chucked across the table toward Jeremy, adding to his small pile. He licked a fingertip, tapped it to one line, and tested it on the tip of his tongue as he held Jeremy’s stare.
“Appreciate the offer,” Jeremy said, “but I’ll have to pass this time.”
“Real shame,” Connors said. He nudged the Wildcat next to him and said, “This kid used to be quite the partier, you know?”
“Cool,” the backliner said, with no enthusiasm or interest, and motioned to Jeremy. “If you’re not going to eat those, can I have them? My sister’s an absolute fiend for them. Thanks,” he added when Jeremy started collecting the scattered sticks. “She’ll be singing your praises when she’s bouncing off the walls later.”
“Did you bring her with you?” Connors asked.
“What? Here? Nah, man, she’s eight.”
“What about you?” Connors asked Jeremy, and Jeremy froze with his hand halfway to the Wildcat player. “I mean, you’ve still got a couple siblings left, don’t you?”
“That’s more than enough,” Laila warned him. Jeremy heard the words but didn’t hold onto them; he was stuck somewhere between his heartbeats. He found Laila’s hand under the table and she immediately let go of his leg to lace her fingers through his. “We didn’t come here to fight with you. Keep it civil or keep it moving.”
“Who’s fighting?” Connors asked, and turned an expectant look on Jeremy. “I’m just making conversation.”
Jeremy finally managed to let go of the candy and withdraw. “Sure,” he said, with an evenness he wasn’t feeling, “but I’m not interested in talking about my family with you. Come up with a different topic or go back to your own table.”
Connors ignored that to say, “There’s what, at least two, right?”
He looked past Jeremy at his teammate for confirmation. Jeremy assumed Lander nodded, because Connors gave a triumphant gesture as he returned his full attention to Jeremy. He leaned forward: daring Jeremy to take a swing, knowing Jeremy wouldn’t. “You could’ve brought at least one. Word is you’re staying at the Knight’s Rest, same as us. Didn’t you know? Guests don’t have rooftop access there.”
It was enough to put a hole in his chest, but Jeremy only managed a hollow, “What,” before Jean’s fist came down between them hard enough to rattle every set of silverware on the long table. Conversations faltered around the room; within moments the only sound was the squeak of chairs as curious athletes turned to watch this confrontation. Jeremy was keenly aware of the ERC’s judging stares, but he couldn’t look away from Connors long enough to grimace an apology at them.
Connors studied the hand that had come dangerously close to taking his nose off before turning a shrewd look on Jean. “You missed.”
“Only once,” Jean warned him.
“Jean,” Jeremy said, and hoped he heard the Don’t in Jeremy’s clipped tone.
He didn’t have to understand what Jean said to know it was rude. Jean leaned into his space but kept his cold stare on Connors as he asked in English, “This is White Ridge. Yes?”