Novy shoves his way past behind me. “Jeez, asshole,” I mutter, glaring at the back of his head. “‘Scuse me,” says Morrow, sliding past too. They’ve both been so weird since L.A. Novy is usually a big prankster, life of the party, even if he’s also a moody asshole. And Morrow is one of the nicest guys on the team. Right now, their shoulders are set in frustration as they take opposite seats in the same aisle, crossing their arms like lovers in a tiff.
