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)
“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.”