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“Too good, Tay,” he complimented me.
“Bit of work to do, huh Max?” Phoenix piped up.
Max spun the racquet around, passing the handle to Phoenix. “Show me how it’s done, ace.” Phoenix’s eyes widened, unsure if Max was joking or not. “Hey,” Max goaded. “Surely you can just stand there and hit it. Tay won’t make you run.”
I held my breath. I got that the boys exchanged wisecracks constantly, but I wondered if Max had pushed it a step too far. Clearly Phoenix wasn’t in a position to play—or was he?
“Thought you’d never ask,” he said, taking one crutch, and limping across to the baseline.
Max grinned at me, a smile so wide that I melted. It wasn’t even aimed at me, but the relationship he had with Phoenix warmed my heart. I gingerly hit a ball softly across to Phoenix. It flew back to me, and I immediately got the gist of just how good a player Phoenix had been. Max played the part of ball kid as Phoenix and I hit back and forth, my concentration high as I tried to make sure I landed every ball within Phoenix’s reach. Oh, sometimes I got distracted when Max ran on the court to pick up the balls that didn’t go over the net.
It was Mrs. Carter who said that we should stop, that it was getting late, that Phoenix shouldn’t overdo it. I got the feeling that Phoenix would never admit to being tired. Max pushed the walking frame over to Phoenix and we did a group high five before Phoenix gratefully supported himself on the handles.
Mrs. Carter supplied juice and teeny tiny pastry snacks, and we sat around the breakfast bar, talking all things tennis.
“I better get Taylor home,” Max said as he drained the last drops of his drink. It was amazing how quickly the time had passed, and I fished my phone out of my tennis bag, texting Dad to let him know I would be home soon. Max and Phoenix were talking together, fist bumping one another, laughing.
It was immensely satisfying knowing I’d helped both of them reunite with their tennis racquets.
“Hey, that was awesome,” Max said when we were buckling up our seat belts. “I’ve never seen Phoe so happy.”
“You looked pretty happy, too.”
“I am happy,” Max said, starting the engine. “But Tay, you put the spark back in his eyes.”
“I think that was you,” I said. “He got great joy in telling you what you were doing wrong!”
“Yeah, I’d say he has a future as a coach if things don’t pan out for him,” Max laughed. “Thanks, Taylor.”
“For what?”
“For making me do this. For helping out Phoe.” Max stopped talking as he accelerated out of the Carter’s gate. He turned off the music that had been playing. “For being you.”
“For being me?”
“Yeah.”
“I know the day started out badly for you, but look how you’ve turned it around. You...you’re incredible.” I watched as Max rested his hand on the gear shifter knob, tapping on it. In the next moment, his hand dropped to the console, his fingers brushing the side of my seat. It was cute when his hand eventually made its way to my knee. I entwined with him, his words and touch bringing a smile to my face. Kind of crazy to think that earlier in the day I’d been shamed because of where I lived, I’d lost my first singles match for the Maroons, and thought Max and Millie had betrayed me. “What’s that smile for?” Max asked, his nails lightly dragging on my skin.
“I played tennis with you and Phoenix,” I said, “that’s why.”
“Oh.” He feigned mock disappointment.
“Oh?” I echoed.
“You’re happy because we played tennis?”
“Yep!”
“And that’s it?”
“Should there be something else?” I teased back with an innocence which was entirely genuine. Talking about tennis was easy, kissing not so much. I wasn’t sure of the protocols around that. How did one mention it? Did one mention it? Did he know he’d been my first kiss? Would that freak him out? “I think we have the potential to play well together,” I said, reverting to the safe topic of tennis. “Maybe we can ask someone to hit with us? Maybe Esther and her brother?”
“Jordy? Sure,” Max said. There was a silence as he removed his hand to stop at an intersection. I cursed those cars that drove by. Then it was a shy call of my name, “Tay?”
Only today he’d started calling me that. It was Dad’s nickname for me, whereas Mom used my full name usually, sometimes all three names: Taylor Steffi Frank, yes my middle name was after the Grand Slam champion.
“I know you’re going to the game with your Dad tomorrow,” Max said, suddenly showing signs of lacking confidence, “but I wondered if you’d want to meet up? You know, at the game, or after it?”
