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Above me, seagulls squawk. Ruiz serves, and faults once. He serves again, and I make him run crosscourt. The ball bounces out, and he skids away.
Suddenly, we’re at match point.
My empty stomach clenches as I glance at the scoreboard; I’m hot, sweaty, aching and desperate to close this match. My body’s been pushed to the limit and I have no idea how much longer I can go on. I have to convert this point. I have to end this.
Ruiz raises the ball. He serves, and without thinking, I lunge forward. My racquet makes contact with the ball, a forehand that lands just inside the baseline. Ruiz runs for it, returns the ball with a backhand, and in a risky move I know Papa’s going to berate me for, I get close to the net and hit the ball crosscourt, stealing the point and winning the match.
The crowd erupts as I fall on my back, exhausted. Closing my eyes, I let the celebration wash over me. I’ve won. I’ve done it. I imagine Noah’s watching the TV right now, and I hope he can tell how elated I am—happy to be staying here, with him, for a few more days.
‘Game. Gabriel Madani beats Alanzo Ruiz,’ says the umpire over the speaker system, ‘six–one, six–two, four–six, six–three.’
As I’m getting to my feet, Ruiz approaches the net, smiling.Good game, he signs.
I love to play with you, I sign back.
I think this is your year, he replies.You can go all the way.
As I wave to the crowd, I see Percy Jones scuttling onto the court with his camera crew. After placing my tennis gear back in my bag, I smooth my hair from my face and walk to meet him at the baseline.
‘Great game again, Gabriel,’ he crows in his southern drawl. ‘You’re officially into the finals—your first finals here at the Australian Open. There’s a good chance you may face Lukas Froebel in the next round; what do you think about that?’
‘This draw hasn’t been easy for me,’ I admit, and the crowd laughs. ‘But if I am up against Lukas, then that is what it is.’
‘What strategies are you bringing into these final matches?’
‘None that aren’t confidential,’ I reply. ‘Maybe some mind games.’ The crowd laughs again. I shrug. ‘I will do what I always do. Try to recover well, try to keep up my training, my diet, come back as fresh as I can.’
‘Thank you, Gabriel—ladies and gentlemen, please give it up for our fourteenth seed, Gabriel Madani, who’s into the quarter-finals at the Australian Open.’
Dove:Welcome back to Hello Hotline, your celeb gossip podcast with Dove and Laura. We’ve got a jam-packed show. We’re talking about Beyoncé’s surprise album news, a Hotline fave is possibly expecting a baby, and we have the goss on a hot new couple you will not believe.
Laura:And things are heating up Down Under. You guys have been obsessed with tennis star Gabriel Madani’s mystery friend. And no, we still don’t know who he is.
Dove:All I want to know is where he got that shirt from. That’s what I’m obsessed with. You know, otherwise he’s just another edgy boy with cute floppy hair.
Laura:So totally your type. A young Nick Carter.
Dove:I mean, I’d climb him in a heartbeat. Wouldn’t you?
Laura:Oh yeah, he could wreck my life and I’d thank him.
Dove:You think they’re a couple?
Laura:Like . . . well . . . Obviously, I don’t want to speculate. As far as I’m aware, Gabriel’s been linked to a few women, so I don’t want that rumour to start here. Therefore, I’m going to intentionally say no, they’re not a couple.
Dove:Yeah, like, of course we’re not interested in outing anyone on this podcast. Plus, who really cares about tennis drama?
Laura:Great, thanks, Dove, that’s one way to get us off the US Open PR list.
Dove:What?! It’s the truth! This is a celeb gossip podcast, not tennis flavour of the week.
Laura:You’ve already offended me. Let’s just move on to Beyoncé.
23
Noah
Gabriel shrieks as Victor dumps a bag of ice into the bathtub. Wearing just a pair of black briefs, he scrunches his shoulders as he braves the shock, his skin ashen and prickled with goosebumps.
