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You see, for me tennis was my salvation. Hitting balls helped me overcome the loss of Mom, it was my evermore connection with her, it kept her spirit alive within me.
Max saw tennis as the opposite. Tennis was his demon, his constant reminder of his friend’s tragedy.
And I wanted to fix this. For Phoenix and for Max, I wanted to fix this.
A few hours ago I was hating on Max Saunders, believing that he’d betrayed me, ousted me to the whole school, but now?
Now I wanted to save him.
––––––––
When Phoenix’s mothercame looking for him—an elegant woman with defined cheekbones and wearing a floaty floral dress, I took that moment to slip away. Excusing myself for the restroom, I washed my hands with the scented hand soap and retied my ponytail.
Then I made a mad dash to my car. So many emotions were stirring in my chest, a pang of guilt that I was abandoning the team dinner, but there was also a bubbling of optimism that Max and I might play tennis together.
It was a lot to process. Earlier in the day I’d been shamed because of where I lived and I’d let it get the better of me, which had shown in my tennis game. The thought that Max and Millie had something to do with it was worse than the actual bullying. Anger and loathing had built up, for Max especially. But now those feelings were redirected at myself—finding out that Addison was likely responsible for everything and not Max, and definitely not Millie.
Usually hitting balls would be the one thing I would turn to in order to clear my mind, but getting away from the Club was utmost in my mind. Driving down the hill, I passed through the beautiful neighborhood that was Covington Heights, noticing the grand mansions, opulent gates, manicured gardens...and I remembered the planter box. I hadn’t bought any bulbs yet.
Crossing over the bridge back to River Valley, I headed for the mall. Focusing on choosing bulbs would be the distraction I needed. I strolled into the garden center, taking my time as I perused the racks of potted plants, shrubs and flowers, anything to delay going home where I could expect a lecture from Dad for bailing.
Finding the bulb stand, I stood flabbergasted by the range. There were so many to choose from! My selections would have to be based on the pictures, or maybe names. I remembered back to a year ago when we’d planted a bunch of bulbs, Mom had said, “When these come up in spring, it’ll be a big surprise, because I’ll have forgotten what I planted.” At the time, we weren’t even certain that she’d live to see them come up.
Only one lone daffodil had bloomed before she spent those last days in hospital.
I scanned through the pictures of daffodils, not even sure what color it had been. Yellow, gold, white, I didn’t know her favorites. How was it that I couldn’t remember, only five months after she’d passed. What else was I going to forget? The sound of her voice? The softness of her cheek against mine? The flick of her wrist to disguise her forehand slice?
“Taylor?” I jerked at the sound of my name, looking up from the packet of bulbs in my hand. I’d been reading:Plant in sun or part shade, wondering if the garden box got any shade.
On the other side of the stand, directly across from me, was Max Saunders.
Chapter 19
Max
“Taylor?” She hadn'tseen me approaching, so she startled when I called her name. I moved swiftly around the stand to be next to her, a tingle running through me. Impossibly, she rocked the Covington Prep uniform, the skirt demurely reaching her knees, wearing anklet socks with her black Mary Jane shoes, revealing her glorious tanned and toned legs. She was magnificent, and I was spellbound.
