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Taylor
My twenty minute runturned into forty minutes because my mind was in turmoil, a whirlwind—no, make that a hurricane—of disorder and chaos. I didn’t know what was worse—that Max had discovered that I lived in derelict housing, or that he’d declined to play tennis with me.
Both seemed equally humiliating and shameful.
It had taken me a minute to comprehend that Max was our gardener. When I first saw him with the lawnmower, I had fleetingly wondered if Max was different from the Covington Prep kids. Covington Prep kids didn’t have jobs, they didn’tneedjobs. No, their European cars and fancy designer totes and salon manicures weren’t funded by fast food or retail. Or gardening.
How stupid of me!
No, Max wasn’t some pauper working to afford to go to Covington Prep—his parents owned the company, they owned the very property we lived in! And as supportive as he’d pretended to be with my tennis, actually playingwithme, well, I was obviously not in his league, the girl in the falling-down house. Yes, it was best that I remembered my place in the world, that I was on a scholarship at Covington Prep to play tennis. But that didn’t make me one of them.
After my run, I went to the club, setting up the ball machine to hit ball after ball until I reached my happy place. It always came, just today it took a little longer as I reminded myself that tennis was my one and only focus. Nothing compared to the high I got from perfect placement of a serve, or a ball skimming the side of the line. Not Max Saunders’ soft brown eyes, his distractingly defined legs or his cute smile. Or, so I told myself.
When Dad suggested the next day that we take a drive to Falls Creek, the nearby city, I jumped at the chance to get away from River Valley. He knew of some public courts where we could play for free. Dad surprised me with his play, and at times we had long rallies, but he was impatient and hit too many errors. Still, it was good for me to hit against someone who could hit a hard ball back.
“You know, that’s my goal now. To beat you one day,” he said.
I shook my head and laughed. “You can keep trying!”
“Well, I’ll try for three games in a set.” We’d played three sets and I’d beaten him 6-1, 6-1, 6-2.
“It might take a while,” I said.
“When did you first beat your mother?” he asked.
“Twelve,” I said. “Did you ever beat her?”
Dad laughed. “Actually, yes. Once. 6-4. When we first started dating. I guess she didn’t want to hurt my ego.”
“She must’ve wanted another date,” I teased. Mom had never given me any games for free when we’d played. She made you earn every single point.
“I think she did,” Dad said with a wink. “Tay, we should do this more often.”
“Yep, definitely.”
“You hitting with anyone at the club?” Dad asked.
“Yesterday I joined a doubles game,” I said. After my training, Alize had asked me to join in for a game of mixed doubles with some older people. The tennis had been average, but it had been fun.
“Have you asked to hit with any of the kids at school, besides Grace? What about Max?”
Dad had been highly amused to find out that Max was the lawn guy, and on recollection, he remembered the name Saunders and found it quite bizarre that we rented a house from his parents. I huffed and took a moment to consider whether I wanted to reveal my humiliation.
“What?” Dad probed, sensing my hesitation.
“I did ask Max,” I said with what I hoped was a nonchalant shrug, “but he didn’t want to.”
Dad’s brow furrowed. “Really?”
“Probably just as well,” I sneered. “I mean, apparently he’s not playing anymore.”
Dad’s lips pressed together tightly, but he gave a casual toss of his head. “Never mind. Okay, do we deserve cinnamon buns after that epic three setter?”
“Sure do!” I nodded, glad he wasn’t going to mention Max again. Max’s rejection burned in my heart and the sooner I forgot about it—and him—the better.
“Actually, one of the football boys said he’d play with me,” I said, remembering my challenge to Tenn.
That got us talking about the Chargers game on Friday night. Being the big football fan that he was, Dad was keen to come and support the local team. The boys had been talking up the big game, and it was better than going alone.
