“My mother yells. Screeches, really. When she’s pissed or drunk or breathing or scared I said too much over some dinner with Mistelle and Francois or whoever the fuck.”
“Here.” Kaeva tossed Eddie a gel pack. “Carbs and protein gel. Rip off the end and suck the—”
“I know what a gel pack is.” Eddie tore the thing open. “I ran track for f**k’s sake.”
“Track.” Kaeva chuckled, imagining Eddie and bunch of pale richie white boys running in circles for shits and giggles and military-funded scholarships.
“What’s funny about track?”
“Nothing. I guess…”
“You guess what?”
“I sort of ran it too.”
“Oh yeah?” Eddie didn’t sound convinced. He squeezed the gel and sucked it down so fast his cheeks hollowed. Kaeva resolutely didn’t give the sight any more thought or attention than it deserved.
“Ye
