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“That was brilliant!” Bianca said as we packed our racquets away. Making our way to the rest of the team, Addison’s scowl was noticeable. Surprisingly, Bianca ignored her, going over to talk to Mrs. Stephens. As Max was still next to Dad, I stayed and watched Grace and Destiny’s game. I’d analyze with Dad later, after Max had left.
“What’s the score?” I whispered to Mrs. Lee, who was sitting next to Gwyneth, the lady from the Country Club store.
“Grace and Destiny are up 7-6. But it looks like we’ll go to a tiebreaker,” she said. “You and Bianca played beautifully together.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Grace played well in her singles.” Like me, she’d narrowly lost. Mrs. Lee smiled kindly.
For some reason, my heart thumped as I cheered Grace and Destiny on. As the score reached 8-8 and a tiebreaker loomed, the excitement in the stands grew. Tied at 4-4, the result of this match would determine the overall winner. It was excruciating to think that my loss could be responsible for the Maroons’ first defeat of the season, and that Grace and Destiny were under so much pressure. I pumped my fist in the air, encouraging Grace, who was about to step forward for a serve.
“Wow, could it get much closer?” Max’s voice tickled at my ear as he smoothly sat himself on the bench seat next to me.
I froze as a tirade of tingles swept through my body, an inexplicable rush of sensory overload, from my palate to the tip of my toes. I resisted moving a muscle, lest every sensation vanish. I feared the deafening beat of my heart was audible to everyone.
Grace’s serve was unreturnable, making the Covington crowd leap from their seats. I did too, but a second later, at the same time as Max. It was like we were in a different time zone from everyone else, a different reality. Sitting back down, our elbows knocked, my bare skin accidentally brushing against the hairs on his forearm. Deliciously delightful, I refused to move, refused to breathe, demanding his touch be branded on me forevermore. A moment in time I wanted to treasure.
Someone hit a winner, either Grace or Destiny, my vision wasn’t registering. More cries and shouts around me, yet I was trapped—willingly trapped—in a connection with Max.
But, of course, I wasn’t.
And now, I could no longer hold my limb so still, my bicep threatening to shake and cramp. Regretfully, I scratched the top of my head, and that small action separated us like a valley as wide as the Grand Canyon, my secret dream disappearing.
Where I would always be—on the other side, a River Valley resident, a Covington Prep intruder, the scholarship girl who lived over the river. The girl recruited to play tennis, the girl who would help the Maroons make it to State. Beyond winter, I would fade into oblivion and carry no prestige at this school, disappear into the back rows of classrooms, scramble to make grades good enough for college.
Squeals erupted when Grace hit a winning shot down the line, the crowd rising to their feet with a rehearsed stadium wave. A hand rested on my shoulder and again that crazy surge flew through my body. I looked up to see Max smiling at me, and for an insane moment I dreamed that he saw me, just me, Taylor Frank.
But with a sharp twist, I withdrew from his touch, remembering his betrayal. Nobody needed to know where I lived, yet he’d blabbed, made it public knowledge, making me the laughing stock of Covington Prep. I joined the team in a group hug, jumping up and down in celebration, the first victory against Hastings High in seven years.
Mrs. Stephens congratulated all of us, as did the rest of the supporters. Gwyneth said that we deserved a treat and should meet at the Country Club for a meal. Everyone agreed it was a great idea and Gwyneth said she’d reserve a table. I didn’t say anything; I knew the prices for the Country Club meals. I would just quietly slip away when the van got back to school.
I reached out to Dad, telling him I’d meet him at home. It was tempting to ask if I could ride back with him, but rules stipulated we travel in the school van unless you had a special dispensation. Covington Prep was strict in that regard.
“You go with your team to dinner,” Dad whispered, pulling out his wallet.
“No,” I said shaking my head. “I don’t want to.”
“You’re part of the team,” he said, pushing some folded bills into my hand. “Go and enjoy yourself.”
“It’s not like this is the finals or anything,” I said, trying to shove it back. “I don’t need to go.”
“Please,” he murmured, kissing the top of my head. “Remember, you’re here for the team.”
“Okay,” I said with a resigned sigh. I waved him goodbye and rejoined the girls. We’d all go to the locker room to shower and change into our uniform to travel back home. Usually guided by our captain, we waited for her to lead the way, but Bianca wasn’t ready to leave just yet. No, she was standing over by the fence, the same fence that Max Saunders was leaning against, heads close together, deep in conversation.
And my heart plummeted, realization sinking in that Max and Bianca were likely cohorts in trying to take me down.
