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)
Name suggestions were quick to flood in, with the three reading them aloud as they arrived. They started off basic and harmless, such as Patches and Fido, before escalating to more ridiculous options like Monsieur Bowwow. The withering look Jean sent them for that had Cat nearly crying with laughter, and Jean valiantly tried to tune the rest of the madness out.
The soft beep of his phone made him worry he’d been looped into the cacophony, but it was Renee checking in. The Foxes’ practice had been rough, and they were still fighting hours later. Neil was irritated to be sidelined, and the freshmen’s continued disrespect was adding fuel to the fire. The upperclassmen were taking bets on who’d swing first, Neil or someone named Jack. Jean knew it’d be Kevin.
“Get it together,” Jean sent back. “The Trojans want to see you in finals.”
“We will do our best!” she said, and then, “How are things going there?”
Jean tapped idly at his keys before settling for, “Complicated.” Across from him Rex was dangling an inch off the floor, jaws locked on his shark, while Jeremy laughed himself sick. Jean took a picture of them and sent it with the message, “Grief has driven them to madness, but I do not think we can return it.”
“He’s handsome,” Renee returned. Jean had a flat rejection half typed out when she added a cheeky, “The dog is also cute.”
Jean stared down at her messages in disbelief, refusing to read into them but unable to interpret it any other way. He erased seven curt responses before settling on, “Tell Kevin to stay out of it.”
Jean could almost hear her “Oh, Jean.” After a pause, she sent, “I don’t ask Kevin about you. Andrew clocked Jeremy immediately, and three of every five messages you’ve sent me this past month are about him.” It was an obvious exaggeration, but Jean refused to check their messages to prove it. Renee wasn’t done but said, “I was curious, but it never felt appropriate to ask.”
“There is nothing to ask,” Jean sent. “It is against the rules.”
“Whose rules?” Renee asked.
Stuart’s voice bit at his memory: “The dead kid?”
Jean almost chucked his phone across the room. The weight of a body settling on his leg startled him from his gnawing thoughts, and he frowned down at the beast. Rex kept sliding down his thigh, then scrabbling to find his perch again. Cat reached over and clapped Jean’s hip until Jean finally sat cross-legged again. He flicked her an unimpressed stare as the dog settled in his lap with a huff.
“Do not encourage him,” Jean said.
“He likes you,” Cat said, unrepentant. “Don’t you, Jabberwocky?”
Jean stared at her in disbelief and only tried, “Jab.”
Cat enunciated it this time: “Jabberwocky. From Alice in Wonderland? I used to have the whole poem memorized, but it wouldn’t do you good to hear it. It’s half-nonsense,” she explained before Jean could take offense. “Made-up words and the like. But it’s catchy, so it stuck, like an annoying commercial ditty. Maybe the English major remembers it.”
Jeremy crouched over the dog and hooked his hands like claws as he said, “Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch. Something something, snicker-snack. Callooh, callay!” He laughed and gave up with, “That’s all I’ve got, sorry.”
The dog was staring wild-eyed up at him for the unprompted performance, so Jeremy tipped in to plant a kiss on his furry forehead. Jean lurched away from him so quickly he sent Jabberwocky sprawling, and it took Jeremy only a moment to realize what he’d done. He scooped up his frightened pup but kept his eyes on Jean’s blank face.
“Sorry,” he said, tense with concern. “Sorry, that was—”
Jean pried Jabberwocky from his unresisting hands, needing a barricade between them. Jeremy obediently sat back on his heels to create more space, and Jean forced himself to look at Cat. He barely heard his own voice over his heartbeat: “Say the ridiculous name again. Maybe it will be less stupid on the repeat.”
Cat glanced between them but said, “Jabberwocky.” She waited for him to echo it, flashed him two thumbs up, and ruined everything by saying, “More precisely: Jabberwocky Moreau.”
He’d misheard her. “This thing is not a Moreau.”
Jeremy managed a weak smile. “I’d rather not name him Knox or Wilshire.”
“Alvarez,” Jean said, but Cat waved him off. “Dermott.”
“You’ve been outvoted,” Cat said. “Embrace fatherhood.”
This was asinine and ill-advised, and they would all regret this when the semester and season burned up all their time, but Jean sighed defeat. Jeremy’s shoulders were still a tense line when Jean turned toward him, and his eyes were shadowed with regret and discomfort. Jean didn’t know how to fix this, so he held the dog out in peace offering and said, “If he is going to be a Moreau, he will have to learn French.”