All for The Game #4 "The Sunshine Court"

Co mogę wam powiedzieć o 4 tomie All for The Game, czyli The Sunshine Court?

Uwielbiam i chcę więcej!!!🥺🧡☀️✨

Ale biedne moje serduszko po tej książce, tyle emocji🙈

"I am Jean Moreau , he thought, and then: Who is Jean Moreau when he is not a Raven? It was a question that needed answering and a problem she couldn’t help him with."

Dzięki lisom Jean wyrwał się z Evermore, uciekł ze szponom rodziny Moriyama, ale nic nie jest takie proste - bo kim jest Jean, gdy nie musi być już tylko własnością Rico?

Książka była naprawdę genialna i jeny, ciężko było się oderwać. Zaskoczyło mnie gdy nagle Nora Sakavic wypuściła tą książkę - czytałam plotki, że ma kiedyś być, a tu bam, już wydana, czytajcie.

Nawet nie zdawałam sobie sprawy, jak bardzo potrzebna była ta historia, jak dużo jest jeszcze do opowiedzenia. Jean nie jest potworem, nie jest jak Rico, ale przez Rico robił rzeczy, z których nie jest dumny i które bardzo mu ciążą. Całą jego osobowość została zgnieciona, a sensem jego życia jest Exy. Rygorystyczne treningi i brak życia prywatnego też niczego nie ułatwiają. Tak więc gdy Kevin poprosił Jeremeyego, by wziął Jeana do swojej drużyny i pomógł mu się przystosować, kapitan Trojan nie wiedział na co się pisze😅

Jean ma tak wiele do odkrycia o sobie, ale też skrywa tyle cierpienia 🥺 nie chcę mówić za dużo, ale ta książka jest o szukaniu swojego miejsca. Ale to wciąż AFTG i nie raz ta książka was zaskoczy na wszelkie możliwe sposoby.

Zdradzę jeszcze, że akcja zaczyna się w trakcie wydarzeń z "The King's Men" i za nie wykracza, i naprawdę ciekawie czytało się o tym z innej perspektywy.

No i Neil z perspektywy Jeana to było bardzo ciekawe doznanie 😂 Gdy Jean opisuje jak przerażająco spokojny jest Neil lub mówi o niepokojącym, z trudem powstrzymywanym uśmiechu Jostena to odbiera daje nową perspektywę 😂 wydawał się wtedy dużo groźniejszy i szalony niż gdy czytamy o wszystkim z jego perspektywy - tu widać jego brawurę i pewność siebie, i to jak potrafi się nie przejmowam. 

"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."

"Near the edge of the collage was a photo of Renee. She had the back of her head to a window and was pointing up and over her shoulders with both hands. It took Jean a moment to see the rainbow in the distant sky. Someone had taped a small sticky note to the corner of the picture that read “Who wore it better??”"

"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."

"Men like Wymack didn’t exist. They couldn’t; they shouldn’t."

"“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."

"As he was checking the pockets of the carry-on to ensure he hadn’t missed anything, he found an envelope in the outer pouch. Inside was a stack of bills and an index card that just said “I’m not dealing with this again. Buy some fucking clothes. –W”"

"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.”"

"“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."

" “Don’t even know your own size?” but it backfired almost immediately. “Why would I? We don’t shop for ourselves,” Jean asked, and Jeremy went still with his hand on the collar of Jean’s shirt. "

"He wants to know what it was for. The thought came out of nowhere, nearly turning his stomach inside-out. Jeremy forced himself to let go and step back at last. Jean had just finished his junior year, which meant he’d had the last three years of his life dictated to him. Everything had been outside of his control from what he’d studied to what he’d eaten to the very clothes on his back. The Ravens had given up everything to be the undefeated champions, only to be destroyed last month by a tiny team from South Carolina."

"“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.”"

"When he dreamed it was of bloodied ravens locked in an iron cage."

"“He was a Raven,” Jean said, as if any of them could understand the complicated emotions behind such a thing. They were an angry world unto themselves, interlocking links on a chain where compassion and consideration were outlawed. They needed each other. They were stronger together. They hated each other. They hated everyone else more."

"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?"

"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."

"Almost all of Jean’s scars were on the untanned stretches of him, placed where his baggy jersey would always hide them from curious eyes. Most were overlapping lines of varying thickness, but here and there were clusters of small burns no bigger than a match head. These were not injuries from scrimmages or childhood accidents; they were far too numerous and precise. Every one of these was intentional."

"Jeremy tried to watch the way his fingers looked as they hooked through the laces of his racquet head or appreciate the cool approval in Jean’s hooded stare as he tested the weight of his stick, but how could any of that matter when someone had carved literal whorls over Jean’s heart? A hand on his chin startled him into looking up. When he met Jean’s eyes, Jean only said, “Focus on what’s important.” “I am,” Jeremy said. Jean opened his mouth, closed it again, and let go of Jeremy without a word"

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

"“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.""

"As your captain and your partner, don’t I at least deserve the chance to not be a villain in your story?” Jean favored him with a pitying look. “You are the captain of the sunshine court. In no universe could you be anyone’s villain.” That unhesitating trust warmed him all the way through, but all Jeremy said was, “Technically it’s the Gold Court.” “Do not act like you don’t enjoy the moniker.” “I do,” Jeremy admitted with a smile."

"“You were going to go through with it, weren’t you?” Jeremy asked. “You were really going to get in the pool with us next week knowing what it would do to you.” “My issues are mine alone,” Jean said. “I will not ask for accommodations and hold back the team. I will figure something out.” “That’s not fair,” Jeremy said, and when Jean opened his mouth to argue, added, “to you or us. For someone who seems so sure of what he deserves, you don’t seem to give any thought to what anyone else does. You’re forcing us to hurt you without giving us any say in the matter.” “I am horrifically behind as it is,” Jean said, and the self-loathing bleeding into his voice was painful to hear."

"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?”"

"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.”"

"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?"

"Jean couldn’t remember the last time someone allowed him any boundaries, and the feeling was as novel as it was addicting."