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)
“Thank you for inviting us,” Kevin said, with a warmth that made Jean’s skin crawl. “And thank you, and your viewers, for being so patient with us this year. The privacy you afforded us this summer was immeasurably kind.”
“Of course, of course,” Hannah said, reaching toward him like she meant to clasp his hand. “I cannot even begin to imagine what this summer has been like for you. We have all grieved,” she said, including Jean in her sorrowful stare, “and I know we pressured you to grieve with us, but obviously our relationship with Riko Moriyama is so far removed from what the two of you had with him.”
“We stepped back, but we weren’t completely sheltered,” Kevin said. “We’ve seen the tributes and well wishes, and the forums dedicated to his best plays. It’s been—” he paused, searching for the right words. Jean wasn’t sure if it was for show or if Kevin was fighting to find the kindest lie. “—heartening, in the best and worst way, to know how deeply we’ve all been affected. That we’re not alone as we contemplate his loss.”
Jean tasted blood. He wasn’t sure if he’d chewed through the inside of his cheek or if it was the sour tang of brutal memories. He started to reach for his face to check before remembering there were cameras. He pressed his fingertips to his lips instead of shoving them into his mouth. The movement was enough to attract Hannah’s attention, and she turned a sympathetic look on him.
“Thank you especially, Jean, for being with us here today,” she said. “We’ve asked a lot of you by bringing you on today, tying your debut interview so intricately to such a grave discussion, but we are glad for the chance to finally hear from you.”
If he spoke, he’d likely throw up his stomach lining, but he’d promised to be here and to behave. Jean swallowed hard against his nausea and said only, “Yes.”
“Can we start with Riko?” she asked, looking between them. “A bit grim, to be sure, but it seems kinder to begin on a tragic note and end on the brightness of your respective futures.”
“Of course,” Kevin said.
“This story begins at the end: a controversial showdown between the undefeated Edgar Allan Ravens and the Palmetto State Foxes. Absolutely brilliant performances all around,” Hannah noted, extending a hand toward Kevin, “with a last-second win clinched by none other than Kevin Day. We could spend all day dissecting that game, but as we are pressed for time we will have to focus on its unexpected conclusion.”
“A curious choice,” Kevin said. At her gesture, he clarified, “Calling it unexpected. The Foxes had undeniable momentum leading up to that match, including one of the best win-loss ratios across the nation. Once we were able to defeat USC, the Ravens should have known to take us seriously.”
“No offense intended,” Hannah said belatedly. “The Foxes won, the Ravens’ perfect streak was destroyed, and Riko Moriyama was hospitalized with a shattered arm.” That she left off how and why he was injured wasn’t surprising, and Jean understood in a heartbeat who she’d cheered for in that match. Still, it was a ballsy omission when Andrew was standing across the room. “A few hours later, Edgar Allan reported that his body had been found in one of Evermore’s towers.” She paused there to let that reminder breathe, then asked, “Were you able to speak with him after the match, Kevin?”
“No,” Kevin said. “We exchanged a few words during the game, but nothing after.”
“It feels indelicate to ask, but take us through it,” Hannah said. “How did you find out? What was it like, hearing he was gone?”
Renee’s voice at his ear, asking Jean to turn off the TV and wait until she could reach him. Jeremy’s text, Jeremy’s call, He’s gone. For a moment Jean remembered the weight of the coffee table as he threw it into the TV, and he dug his nails into the back of his hand. He felt fuzzily hot in one moment and clammy in the next. In quiet French he said, “I should not be here for this.”
Kevin put his hand over Jean’s to hide the half-moon marks Jean was tearing into his skin. “Stay with me,” Kevin said, just as soft, and Jean forcibly relaxed his death grip. Kevin looked toward Hannah, who was watching them with exaggerated sympathy, and finally said, “It was devastating.”
She made a sympathetic noise, and Kevin withdrew his hand as he sorted through his troubled thoughts. The best he managed was a slow and careful, “He was my brother. Growing up, the only thing that mattered was the future we were going to carve out together. We’d drifted apart after my injury and transfer, but he was still undeniably important to me. For him to be gone feels impossible, even now.”