Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 145402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 727(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
The final bell sounded on a thirteen-nine win, Foxes' favor. Neil stumbled to a stop and pried his helmet off, needing to see the scoreboard without his visor in the way. No matter how many times he blinked the score remained the same.
"Is it over?" Neil's backliner mark gasped out. "Oh, thank god."
Neil looked over at Alvarez and was floored to see her smiling. She thrust a gloved hand his way even as her legs wobbled and gave out. Neil caught her somehow and helped haul her back to her feet. She propped herself against him and scrabbled ineffectually at the straps on her helmet. It took her a few tries before she realized her fingers were too numb to manage it. She gave up and tapped her helmet against his instead.
"Is this what dying feels like?" she asked, and called over her shoulder, "Babe, I think I'm dying. Do I still have legs? I can't look down. I don't think I have legs. I don't think I'll ever walk again."
"Uh-huh," Laila said, trotting over to them. "You'd better figure something out, because you're definitely too heavy for me to carry off this court."
"Rude."
Alvarez groped blindly for Laila's shoulder until Laila hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her off Neil. Alvarez was still smiling, that half-crazy too-wide look that reminded Neil a little of Lola and a little of Nicky. Neil tried to remember if she'd been hit in the head at any point tonight but the Foxes had kept the violence within excusable limits. It seemed only fair considering what good sports the Trojans were.
"That was fantastic," Alvarez said. "I want to do it again. Next year, maybe, when my legs grow back."
"Stop being such a baby," Laila said.
"Ignore her," Alvarez said to Neil. "She's just sour because she lost nine goals in forty-five minutes. Don't know why, not like it's a new personal record or—ohhh, it is. Ouch, that's gotta sting a bit. So much for being first-draft."
"Bitch," Laila said without any heat.
"That's what you get for calling me fat," Alvarez said. She looked back at Neil and gestured past him. "Oops, looks like the party started without you. Go, go, go!"
Neil looked over his shoulder to see the Foxes celebrating on the half-court line. He started to turn toward them, then looked back at Alvarez and Laila. "Your team is terrifying," he said, inspired by Alvarez's enthusiasm to be honest. "We'll be cheering for you next week."
Alvarez flashed a thumbs-up, so Neil jogged to meet his team. He heard Alvarez ask how anyone could still run after "the world's longest game", but he figured it was directed at Laila and didn't slow to hear the answer. Dan saw Neil coming and broke free of the Foxes to bolt for him. She popped nearly every vertebrae in Neil's spine with how hard she hugged him and she couldn't seem to let go again. A second later they were swamped by the rest of the team; the Foxes had obediently shifted their raucous party over to Neil and Dan.
It took great effort to calm down enough for the post-game handshake. The entire Trojan line-up came onto the court for it, but the nine who'd played tonight could barely form a line. The Foxes went to them instead. Jeremy had an exhausted smile and nothing but compliments for them. Alvarez's partner in crime who'd spent most of the night shadowing Kevin sat down when he saw them coming but held his hand up ready for them. As soon as Neil made it past the last of the Trojans he followed his teammates off the court. The stands were a third empty already, though Neil didn't know when the students had started storming out.
Neil didn't care how many hearts they broke that night. They'd beaten USC. When the Trojans lost to the Ravens next week they'd be eliminated from championships. The Foxes were going to finals, and that was the only thing that mattered.
-
Since the Foxes had Friday night off and Andrew and Aaron's cold war was over, Andrew's lot was free to return to Columbia for the first time in months. They got a late start down there, though, as Neil and Kevin wanted to watch the USC-Edgar Allan match. The Trojans went all-out against the Ravens, but their best wasn't good enough. They lost, albeit by the smallest margin they'd ever managed.
Jeremy took the loss well in his post-game interview and expressed no regrets for how things had turned out. He sidestepped every opportunity to call the Ravens out on their ugly playing style but perked up when attention was drawn to how close they'd been to a win.
"We almost had it, right?" Jeremy said. "I don't think anyone was expecting us to get that close. It feels really different out there without Kevin and Jean on the line."
"Worst time of year for someone to be injured," the reporter agreed. Tetsuji had announced earlier in the week that Jean was off the court with a bad sprain. "Rumor has it Jean won't make it back in time for finals."
"Yeah, I spoke to Jean earlier this week. He's definitely done for the year, but he'll be back in the fall. He just won't be back in black." Jeremy flashed his toothy grin and didn't wait to be asked to explain. "Yesterday he faxed us over the last of the paperwork we needed to make this thing official, so I'm allowed to tell you: he's transferring to USC for his senior year."
"Let me make sure I heard you correctly," the reporter said. "Jean Moreau is leaving Edgar Allan for USC?"
"We ordered his gear this morning," Jeremy said. "We'll have to get him some sun this summer, though! He's a little pale to pull off red and gold right now." He laughed like this news wasn't going to cause an uproar with Edgar Allan's rabid fans. "Unfortunately his number was taken already, but Jean said we can reassign him to whatever's open. I'll let him tell you what his new one is going to be."