Jesteśmy społecznością, która kocha książki

Jean noticed how Andrew and Neil moved like they were caught in each other’s gravity, in each other’s space more than they were out of it, cigarette smoke and matching armbands and lingering looks when one fell out of orbit for too long.

I don't want to talk about the Ravens anymore," Kevin said. "Ever since my mother died it's been Ravens this and Ravens that. I am not a Raven anymore. I never will be again. To be honest, I never should have been one in the first place. I should have gone to Coach Wymack the day I found out he was my father and asked to start my freshman year at Palmetto State" .

(...)Kevin told us the truth when he transferred so we'd know what we were getting into. I know why you think you have to go back to Evermore, and I know what’s waiting for you there. I will burn this house down before I let him touch you again" .

If his hands ever started working again, Jean would choke the life out of Kevin next time he saw him.

He’d seen many sides of Kevin, including the scathing diva he hid from the press, but he’d never seen Kevin so rattled and quiet.

I don't believe in miracles," Jean said. "I have enough faith for us both," Renee promised. "I know one will find you sooner or later. In the meantime, find what will keep you alive, and then find the little things hidden beneath it. This could be the fresh start you need,”...

Renee slid off the bed and started for the door. Two steps later she changed her mind and returned to him. She caught his face in a careful grip and leaned in to press a soft kiss to his temple. "Believe in yourself," she said. "It will all work out.".

She'd chosen life; she'd chosen hope. She'd chosen second chances, and now she was watching to see if he would follow.

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's smile somehow got even bigger, and he was too excited to wait for a prompt.

He didn't realize he'd reached for his own throat until Abby seized his wrist hard enough to hurt. "Jean."
"You never should have brought me here. You never should have interfered. You should have just—"
"Let them kill you?" Abby asked."No."
"They never touched me."
"Stop lying to me."
Jean pulled against her grip.
"A Fox wouldn't understand."
"Probably not," Abby said. "My Foxes chose to fight back.".

I am tired of being called second when I am better than he will ever be. Tonight they’ll see how wrong they were about us.

Now do you believe in miracles?"
"That wasn't a miracle," Jean typed out. "That was the Foxes.".

Say 'yes, Jeremy'." He had the distinct impression Jean wanted to roll his eyes.
"Yes, Jeremy."
Jeremy forgot everything else he could have said in favor of staring. It was the first time he’d heard Jean say his name. Hearing it in Jean's accent put a wicked flutter in Jeremy's stomach. He stared a moment too long, and
Jean quirked an eyebrow at him in silent question.
"Nothing," Jeremy said...

You are the captain of the sunshine court. In no universe could you be anyone's villain.

If you don't want something enough to fight for it, you don't deserve to have it.

A cool evening breeze. Rainbows. Open roads. Teammates.

My name is Jean Moreau. My place is at Evermore. I belong to the Moriyamas.

Los Angeles was a monster, too big and too loud and too hectic. The Trojans were strange and misguided. There was a cardboard dog in his bedroom that Jeremy treated like a de facto member of the household. Jean didn’t understand any of it, but he knew on a bone-deep level that this was better than anything he’d ever had. It was worlds more than he deserved. He feared it as much as he wanted it; the thought that this was his life now was terrifying.

He made it to the kitchen doorway before Jeremy’s quiet voice stopped him: "You genuinely care about them." Jean went still but didn’t look back. It took Jeremy a moment more to find his voice again, and then all he managed was a hesitant, "Despite every unkind thing they’ve said about you this spring, you still care about them, don’t you?" "I hate them," Jean said, and left. It was the cold hard truth; it was a blatant lie. How could he possibly make these free-spirited children understand?

Jean Moreau came back to himself in pieces, dragging himself together as he had a thousand mornings before.

Loving something is not enough," Jean told him, right on cue. “When is the last time you enjoyed playing?" Jeremy asked. "Irrelevant," Jean said. "I am Jean Moreau; I am perfect Court. I do not need to enjoy it to be the best backliner in the NCAA.

— I don’t believe in miracles — Jean said.
— I have enough faith for us both — Renee promised.

What size are you?" he asked as he found a couple options. Jean just looked askance at him, so Jeremy said, "Housewarming gift from us to you." "I have shirts," Jean pointed out, gesturing to the one he had on. "Sure," Jeremy said, thinking of Jean’s tiny bag. He wanted to ask how many Jean had managed to cram in there. Instead, he chose a less intrusive approach: "How many of them are black?" His self-censure was wasted, because Jean simply said, "Both." The plastic hanger in Jeremy’s hand gave a warning creak.

Propped up against Laila’s back tire was a standee of a golden retriever that had been relegated to the kitchen for the last few weeks. Jeremy went over to it immediately. “This is Barkbark von Barkenstein. You can call him Barkbark or Mister B for short. It’s a bit of a mouthful on its own.

I’m so proud of you for making it this far. I’m excited to see how far you can go from here when you can finally spread your wings without fear. Fly safe, Jean. We will see you on the court in finals.

Jeremy snagged his arm when he started to turn away. "Who did this to you?".

Hello, hello,"Jeremy greeted him cheerily. "How was the flight?"
The worst, Jean thought, but settled for, "Small talk is a pointless indulgence."
"I like to indulge,” Jeremy said with a dimpled smile.

What happens when he loses his grip? Jeremy wondered. When Jean finally had to accept that the inhumanity inflicted on him for years had been for nothing, would he rage against the unfairness or shatter under a weight carried far too long?

Maybe you’ll define success by how we do this season, but I’m not obligated to do the same. You are going to be my success story: Jean Moreau the person, not Jean Moreau of the perfect Court. You take care of one, and I’ll take care of the other.

You are my captain and my partner. Do you know what that means? Your success is my success; your failure is my failure. This is the covenant which every pair operates under.”
"They really hurt you. You are not okay in ways I can’t even imagine. Can you see that?