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“Hi.” He studies me as he takes the racquet, like he’s surveying a puzzle. Half-assessing, half-confused.
We haven’t talked since gym on Monday. Haven’treallyspoken since Sunday at the field. I don’t know what to say to him. How to act around him. Part of me is still processing the fact that we kissed.
“Dude! What’s taking forever? Oh. Hey, Lennon.”
“Hi, Luke.” I glance back at Caleb. “I’ll, uh, see you.”
He nods. I give Luke a small smile as I pass him.
Once everyone has grabbed a racquet, Mr. Evans marks pairs off on his clipboard. I’m pretty certain he would be my least favorite teacher based on nothing but the subject he teaches, but that title is solidified when he calls out, “Matthews, you’ll be with Herbert.”
There aren’t enough tennis courts for us all to play at once. Mr. Evans sends Madison and me, along with a few other pairs, to the grassy knoll to the right of the courts. I plop down on the grass, glad it’s a sunny day and the blades aren’t damp. Madison lowers herself down gingerly after scrutinizing the ground. I swallow a snort.
She’s always been prissy. It drove me crazy when we were younger. I’d be racing around the playground, while she’d sit on a swing and refuse to play tag.
“Sure you don’t want to get a chair?” I ask her.
She glares at me and tosses her long mane of blonde hair over one shoulder. “I just have standards. Unlike some people.”
I adopt my most serious tone. “You’re right. Sitting on grass is definitely evidence of a massive character flaw.”
Madison scoffs, then turns to talk to Poppy Tisdale about the upcoming senior trip. It’s still three weeks away, but I’m not surprised they’re already discussing it.
High schoolers start planning for the trip to a nearby campground as freshmen. The senior-only trip is that legendary. Back in freshman year, I even had some vague fantasy I might be able to go. It feels far away now. There’s no way Gramps could manage the horses all by himself for three nights. I’ve been bracing for an argument about it, because I know he’ll try to convince me he can, but the topic hasn’t come up yet.
“No, I’m bringing my straightener anyway,” Madison is saying. “I know they said it draws too much power, or whatever, but Amanda Stephens said she used hers last year and it was totally fine.”
I bite my bottom lip, trying to contain my amusement over the thought of Madison blowing a fuse at the campsite and depriving everyone of electricity, just so she can straighten her hair.
“Okay, I’ll bring mine too, then,” Poppy says.
Madison and Poppy move on to discussing their outfits. It’s a struggle to keep a straight face as they describe the tank tops and dresses they’re planning to pack.
For a trip to a campground. In the woods. In April.
I keep my mouth shut, though, as I mindlessly pick at blades of grass.
“Time to switch!” Mr. Evans calls out.
Everyone waiting, including me and my reluctant partner, stands to take the place of the losing pairs. Mr. Evans sends partners out onto the court in the order they arrive at the metal gate that leads onto the green asphalt.
Based on how Madison is literally dragging her feet, I figure out who we’ll be playing even before Mr. Evans says, “You two will be paired with Winters and Kelly.”
That definitely gets Madison’s attention. She perks up as we head toward the nearest court. It’s my turn to walk slowly.
Caleb hasn’t noticed us yet. He’s talking to his partner, Harper Kelly. She was on the paper with me freshman year, which was probably the last time we spoke.
Right now, she’s entirely absorbed in whatever Caleb is saying, looking at him with the worshipful expression I’ve seen aimed at him many times before.
It bothers me in a different way than the reverence usually does. I’m…jealous.
Madison clears her throat loudly as we cross the baseline. “Ready to play?”
“Ready,” Caleb replies. His gaze shifts to me. A grin forms, surprising me. “You any better at tennis than baseball, Matthews?”
“I’m batting 500 these days, Winters,” I reply, relaxing into our usual banter.
His grin deepens, making his dimples pop. “Impressive.”
