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“Hey, so that’s the Maroons number one player? How’d Bianca take it?” The slight jeer at the mention of Bianca made me relax. Phoenix had constantly taunted me about my relationship with her. I’d put it down to jealousy—I had a girlfriend before him. He was too intense with tennis and training, no time for girls or relationships. I had felt kind of superior—for a while, at least. Now I felt foolish.
“Don’t know and I don’t care,” I said, “but all I know is that Taylor is a class above.”
“A class above?” Phoenix’s top lip lifted into a smile and his eyes flashed. “You’re calling her a class above?”
I took a moment to study my friend as he covered his mouth and coughed. I didn’t recognize the black and red plaid shirt he was wearing, and his face was thinner, cheekbones prominent over his hollow cheeks. I hated to think how his legs were now. All those gym sessions of squats, deadlifts, calf raises, leg press, all that hard work...had his muscles wasted away while on bedrest?
As Phoenix sipped on a cup of water, I scratched my head. “You saw her serve, yeah? She served about seven aces.” It was seven exactly, but I didn’t want to make it seem like I was counting. “And it’s not like her opponents were no good, either. Renee Hobbs. Ava Venti.”
“Have you hit with her?” Phoenix asked, and there was something in his voice...an excitement, something that had been missing from previous conversations. And it hit me how much I missed my friend, how I wished he was back.
“Clay’s coaching her,” I said.
“Haveyouhit with her?” Phoenix repeated. “Have you returned her serve? It looks like she gets a kick on it.”
I shook my head, my chest tightening. The thought of being on the same court with Taylor put me into a spin. That was a joke Phoenix used to say about me and Bianca—she put me in a topspin. It was a poor pun, but it amused him.
“You haven’t hit with her?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why not? You’d have to be the best player to hit with her.”
“She’s hitting with the girls,” I mumbled, my skin flushing under his scrutiny. My stomach clenched, a sickening feeling. I’d stopped playing tennis to shield Phoenix, to show support and solidarity in the worst moments of his life, to protect him from the heart wrenching truth that tennis was no longer his future.
Tennis was Phoenix’s life and I didn’t want to crush his spirit by doing the one thing that he loved more than anything. I didn’t want to take Phoenix’s hopes and dreams away from him.
“Man, I’ve been busy working,” I said. “Mom and Dad are just crazy busy. There’s so much work. And with school—AP classes, yearbook photos, and Miss Piatti got me to sign up for Adventure Club and we’ve gotta go plant trees, and Miles is making me do the 48 hour film festival....I’ve got so much happening.” It was a slight exaggeration, true I did have two AP classes, and I was in the photography group that was covering the Winter Parade, but that wasn’t until December. I needed to change the subject...quickly. “Hey, so you’ll be back soon, yeah? We need you back here. Can’t wait for you to come home.”
Phoenix nodded. “Yeah, I can’t wait to get out of here,” he said, but the spark had left his eyes and voice, and he sounded tired.
For a moment, we stared at one another. I had the feeling his heart was pounding as hard as mine. But in unison, as if it was planned—though it wasn’t—we thumped our clenched fists against our own chests. During tennis it was our signal for passion, to show heart, a fierce determination to win, to do our best, to be the best.
And right now, we weren’t on the court, but the sentiment was the same. Phoenix’s journey wasn’t going to be easy, he had a proverbial mountain to climb, the future uncertain. Words weren’t needed, but I think he understood—I would be there for him, best friends for life.
––––––––
Idrove into the schoolparking lot relieved after last night’s conversation with Phoenix. It was like a giant weight had been lifted off of my shoulders and this morning’s run would provide that cathartic release where I could reconcile all my feelings and tuck them away and prepare for Phoenix’s homecoming. All going well, it might happen as early as next week. There were some alterations being done at his house, his bedroom was being moved to a downstairs room, and a new open plan bathroom was being installed.
Not only was Phoenix’s homecoming something to look forward to, but Homecoming was only two weeks away. Immersed in my own happy thoughts, I drew in a gasp as the tall figure of Taylor emerged from a silver SUV. Dressed in her PE uniform, she was scuttling along the path toward the school entrance. A random thought entered my mind—could I ask Taylor to the Homecoming Dance?
My phone buzzed and in the seconds it took to check the text and reply to Miles, she’d disappeared. Nonetheless, my heart was racing. I wouldn’t expect her to do track work the day after a tennis match, but Taylor’s work ethic seemed to know no bounds. The thought of running with her made me grab a stick of minty gum from my glovebox.
I’d run three laps before it occurred to me that she was taking her time. Perhaps she was hanging her uniform, pressing it—who knew how long it took to organize a skirt, blouse and blazer.
I’d run for eighteen minutes, losing count of the laps before coming to the conclusion that Taylor wasn’t coming to the track. My emotions fluctuated, one minute hopeful, then disappointed, and now worried that she’d fallen, or tripped, or had broken her ankle. I made my way toward the courts, hoping that she might be training, even though she hadn’t been carrying her tennis bag. Jordy and Esther were hitting together, and Jordy looked over with a big smile on his face.
“You want to hit, Max?”
“Nah, I’ve been for a run. Was Taylor here?”
“Taylor?” Jordy seemed surprise I was asking.
I backtracked quickly. “Uh, Clay coaches her. He wanted me to pass on a message.”
Jordy didn’t flinch at my explanation. “No, haven’t seen her,” he said.
“It looks like Phoenix might be coming home next week,” I said.
“No way! That’s awesome,” Jordy said, just as excited as me about the imminent return of our friend.
I excused myself, needing to shower and dress and eat before school started, still wondering where Taylor was. If she wasn’t at the courts or track, could she be at the gym? No, Coach Mercer and the football team trained every morning. Maybe she was behind in a class or assignment. Perhaps she was doing some tutoring, or being tutored.
