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I was able to play freely after that, serving with full extension and running all over the court. Renee was a good player and we engaged in some long rallies. On the next end change, I could see that the grandstand was filling up as kids came out of class. During one game, the cheers and claps increased when I saw Tenn and some of the football team watching. I liked it, but I was also glad when they left for their practice.
At the end of the set, Mrs. Stephens dashed over to me, a look of thunder on her face. “What on earth are you wearing? Where’s your skirt?”
I held up the discarded skirt, and pointed out the size label which readlarge. I didn’t need to say anything. She took it and scuttled off. By the time she returned with my skirt, I was leading 4-1 in the second set.
I was able to win the next two games easily. Renee and I laughed over the skirt issue, but I was still angry by Jorja and Addison’s actions. I went looking for Dad, who had walked along to the end of court 4 where Bianca was playing her singles match.
“Why didn’t you say you were coming to watch?” I asked as he hugged me and said how proud he was.
“I thought you might get nervous,” he said. “And I wanted to surprise you. What was the deal with your skirt?”
“Can’t say I’ve seen anyone remove their skirt on court before.” The sound of Max’s voice startled me as I looked up to see him making his way down from the top of the stands. He jumped down and landed right next to Dad and me, looking smart in his uniform.
“Mrs. Stephens nearly had a heart attack when she saw you in your underwear,” he said.
“They’re not underwear!” I hissed. “They’re bike shorts. And I’m pretty sure Jorja and Addison had something to do with it.”
Max’s frown turned into a smirk. “Well, it was a pretty spectacular way to start off your tennis season,” he said, “Outfitandperformance. 6-2, 6-1. Renee Hobbs is rated pretty high around here, you know.”
“I didn’t realize you were watching,” I said, my heart fluttering for some ridiculous reason.
“A-hem.” Dad cleared his throat, making his presence known. His raised eyebrows indicated he wanted an introduction.
“Uh, Dad, this is Max.” I glanced briefly at Max. “Uh, this is my Dad...Brandon.”
“Hi...Brandon,” Max said as they tapped fists.
“You’re a tennis player, Max?” Dad asked.
I noticed the hesitation in Max’s reply, but Dad probably didn’t because he was too busy smiling in the most silly, stupid way.
“Uh, I was on the boys team last year,” he said.
Dad nodded and his attention turned to the court. He lowered his voice, “So, this is the captain? Bianca?”
“Yep,” I said as Bianca pumped her fist after hitting a winning shot cross court. I had to admit it was a good shot. “Dad, are you staying to watch the doubles?”
“Of course,” he said.
“You don’t have to go back to work?“
“No, I started early so I could come down and watch,” he said. Just as I was feeling all fuzzy and sentimental that Dad had changed his work hours especially to be here, he asked, “Are you watching, Max?”
“Sure,” Max said.
“In that case, I’ll sit with you,” Dad said. “You can fill me in on all the details of who’s who.” Dad was oblivious to my jaw dropping, and he nodded at Max as if it was totally normal that a high school senior would want to sit to sit next to him, somebody else’s parent. But in the next instant Dad spotted Mrs. Stephens. “Excuse me, I think I’ll have a quick word,” he said, tearing off after her.
I offered Max a sympathetic expression. “Uh, you don’t really have to sit next to him,” I said, turning away with a mutter. “I guess you’re watching Bianca.”
Ready to shuffle away, his voice lured me back. “I don’t mind, and actually, I’m not.”
I paused, my heart thumping at a frantic pace as a whole fantasy world opened up before me. Max hadn’t come to watch Bianca play, he’d come to watch me...yes, me! Even though I shunned him most of the time, he was bewitched nonetheless and couldn’t resist me!
Yes, in a nanosecond I imagined that I was the girl of his dreams and his kiss with Bianca was some distant memory tucked deep in the recesses of his mind. Mistletoe, Christmas Balls—he’d probably kissed every girl who was there. Bianca had probably kissed every boy. Isn’t that what people did under the mistletoe? Ha, not that I’d know. I wouldn’t recognize mistletoe if it was dangling in front of my face. And as for Country Club Balls—there was no chance I’d ever experience one.
“I’m actually doing research,” Max said, causing me to drop to reality with a thud.
“Oh,” I said, deflating like a popped balloon. I wasn’t aware Max worked for the Covington Times, the official school paper. But then again, why would I? I basically went out of my way to keep out of Max’s way.
