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)
“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.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jean
For better or worse, Jean was not put against Derrick again that day. Instead he rotated through Ananya, Nabil, and Jeremy at scrimmages. That was satisfying enough to push Derrick from mind for now, as Ananya and Jeremy were the starting strikers for the Trojans’ second-half line-up and Nabil was their dedicated sub. This was the talent he deserved to square off against, even if Ananya was selling herself short by using a light racquet.
Mindful that one bad foul would have him sidelined, Jean wasted far too much energy keeping himself in check that afternoon. Ignoring the nonstop openings his opponents left him was insulting and did them no favors in the long run, but Jean settled for simply ripping their sticks out of their hands for now. As boring as it was, it bought him time to analyze them. He studied how they stood and tracked how they moved, how often they went left or right from a standstill and how many steps they took before passing the ball. These three had an obvious synchrony from playing together for years, and there was plenty of valuable insight to be gleaned from watching the way they worked together.
Toward the end of the day Jean had finally seen enough to start digging in. He waited until the teams were resetting before pointing an accusatory finger at Nabil. “You take too long to set up your shots.” As far as Jean could see, it was the only real reason Nabil was second-string to Ananya. He had exceptional awareness of what was happening on the court and could turn on a dime, but he was so conscious of potential interference down the line he didn’t take enough risks. All players were slow compared to the Ravens’ style, but this was too extreme to tolerate. “Stop overthinking it.”
“Thank you for the advice,” Nabil said, “but I’d rather ensure a completed pass than risk interception.”
“It is not just your burden,” Jean said, and hooked his stick behind Nabil’s to hold him in place. “Trade to the other team. When you want to score, simply call for the ball, and I will give it to you.”
Nabil considered him a few moments, then nodded and tugged his racquet loose. He jogged to the half-court but flagged Derek down on the way. Jean watched the two exchange words before switching spots on the line. More than one Trojan half-turned to send a considering look Jean’s way, but Jean turned his back on all of them as he went to his own designated spot.
He stretched as he walked, pushing until he felt a faint ache in his shoulders and elbows, and flexed his fingers as he slowed to a stop. It’d been months since he was on a Raven court, but Jean had spent five—seven—years mastering Raven drills. Muscle memory wouldn’t fail him now; it couldn’t.
The whistle sounded to start them off, and the teams pushed forward as one. Jean’s team had scored last, so Min got them started with a serve up-court. For a respectable amount of time, they managed to keep the ball on that end of the court, and then Cody stole it and shot it down-court to Ananya. Derek and Jean went down the court in time, Derek trying to open an angle for her and Jean dogging him every step of the way. Ananya had to fire off a pass their direction before Cat could take the ball away from her, but the crack of Cat’s heavy against Ananya’s light had it landing short of where it needed to.