Days Of St Croix

by Felicity Pepper

Sixteen

  Mills served the ball over the net to Mallory Macon, who hit it back with a strong backhand to the center. Tibby was ready for it, and she intercepted fast, volleying the ball deep and wide. Harriet Torbay lunged for it, but she came up short and the ball bounced hard inside the tramlines.

  "Thirty-love!" Called Mills, pulling a ball out of a clip on her skirt and bouncing it in front of her. The morning sun was beginning to warm up the tennis courts, but many of the girls shivered in the cool September breeze. They wore the regulation whites; short-sleeved polo shirts with soft collars and an embroidered crest on the left breast bearing the St Croix coat of arms. The skirts were mid-thigh, pleated cotton, and despite the cold, some girls hiked them up and folded the waistband over to make them shorter. You never knew when a St Croix boy might walk past and check out the legs on show.

  Mills served again. The ball plowed into the tarmac and zoomed past Harriet, who missed again.

  "Damn it!" She shouted. "I suck today!"

  "Good serve, Mills!" Said Mallory, earnestly. She flashed a gleaming smile at Mills, who acknowledged the compliment with a nod. Mallory was a nice girl, but she was trying a bit too hard to be Mills' BFF today. She made complimentary remarks every time Mills hit the ball, and it was starting to make Mills uncomfortable. Best to ignore the ass-kissing unless she wanted Mallory following her around all fucking year.

  "Forty-love!" Tibby said, switching across court again. She looked back at Mills, who was winding up for another serve. The ball came down too low and clipped the net.

  "Let. Second service." Called Mills, already rounding up to serve again. The second ball came down softer than the first, sailing over the net, where it was met swiftly by Mallory. It went deep, and Mills returned it easily. Harriet leaped up at the net and volleyed it hard at Tibby, who managed to hit it, but the ball flew wide and bounced out, hitting the fence that surrounded the courts. The players paused for a moment.

  "Forty-fifteen." Called Mills, picking up a ball from the edge of the court. She bounced it a couple of times and squinted down the court. Mallory smiled at her again. God! What is it with her today? She thought, bouncing the ball again. She paused for a split second, then tossed the ball high, hammering down on it with her racquet. It flew beautifully over the net at the mid point and scuffed the tarmac, spinning up at Mallory, who swung neatly and returned it to Mills.

  Mills hit it back hard, curving it over the net so it bounced low and fast, but Mallory returned it again. Both Tibby and Harriet stood still at the net, watching the rally between Mallory and Mills. Back and forth the ball went again and again, three, four more times. With each return, Mills's face grew darker, but Mallory's face remained bright and calm. She almost seemed to be smiling.

  Six, seven, eight times the ball flew back and forth. Mills edged forward slightly, hoping to score a volley, but Mallory returned it deeper, and Mills had to rush to the baseline to catch it. She hit it back across court, and Mallory dived for it, just managing to clip it with the edge of her racquet. It came back slow and high, spiraling up over the net. Tibby called out,

  "Mine!" as she edged into position. The ball came down, and with an easy swing she slammed it deep to the other side before Mallory could even get halfway across.

  "Game!" Tibby shouted, jogging back to the baseline and holding her hand up for a high-five. Mills panted and leaned over, hands on her knees.

  "That was intense." She said, catching her breath.

  "Yeah, great rally."

  "Great point, more like it. You killed it, Tibby. That was awesome."

  "You did all the work, though." Said Tibby, looking across the net at Mallory and Harriet.

  "Great game, guys!" Mallory called out. They both looked at her. Mallory was grinning again. She hardly seemed to be sweating. She held out her hand over the net. Mills walked over and took it.

  "Thanks. You were pretty good, too." Mills said, letting go of Mallory's hand.

  "You really think so?"

  "Uh, sure." Mills shrugged. "You kept returning my balls, didn't you?"

  "That means so much to me, Mills!" Mallory bared her blindingly white teeth again.

  "Okay, whatever." Said Mills, turning away. Was this girl psychotic? 

  "Really. I think you're an awesome tennis player, Mills. It's an honor to be your opponent." Mallory's eyes were wide blue saucers in a pale, smooth white complexion. Her deep-red hair was tied back and her ponytail rested against her shoulder. She really is kind of adorable, thought Mills, but the whole simpering groupie act is a bit much.

  "Well, it was, uhh, fun playing you, too." Mills walked back over to Tibby, who was gathering up her balls and putting them in the carrier.

  "Are you doing anything this afternoon?" Mallory called out from the other side of the court. "Maybe we can play some more?"

  "Jesus." Mills said under her breath.

  "I know! What is her deal!" Replied Tibby, her eyebrows raised.

  "Damned if I know. She's fucking crazy."

  "She probably likes you, Milly." Tibby nudged Mills with her elbow.

  "Oh my God. That would be too sad. Do you really think so?" Mills looked over her shoulder. Mallory was still standing at the net, looking over at them, smiling.

  "Oh come on, Mills. I'd be surprised if there weren't half a dozen Freshman girls who have a crush on you. Senator Dupont's daughter, tall, tan, gorgeous Camilla, dating the hottest guy in school. In fact, I guarantee there are more like her. There's probably a fucking clique!"

  "Oh, Tibby, will you stop it! What am I going to do?" Mills looked over at Mallory. Now she was waving, her head cocked slightly to one side like a puppy.

  "Make sure you get done in the locker room before she does, I guess." Tibby winked and nudged Mills again.

  "Oh, Jesus, really?"

  "You never know. Better to be safe than sorry." Tibby hoisted her white leather Ralph Lauren tennis holdall onto her shoulder and headed out of the courts. Mills watched her leave. She pulled a St Croix hoodie over her head and picked up her racquet before she realized that Mallory was waiting for her. Oh great. This is going to be fucking interesting.

  "Tibby! Wait up!"

  Jas looked at his watch. It was a quarter after ten and he still had three more miles to run. He panted, slowing up slightly to a lazy jog, and fell in behind Dennis Riordan and his twin brother, Byron. The trees drifted by slowly, their leaves just beginning to turn from green to yellow. Normally, Jas was a keen runner. He had no trouble keeping up front, often coming first in the cross country runs around the trails which surrounded St Croix. But this morning he was not feeling it. He had gotten maybe three hours sleep after getting back to school last night, and after he had come in through his window, Brand had wanted to stay up and talk for a while; something about a dream he had just had, featuring Tibby and a boat and a waterfall. A few minutes had turned into another hour, and by the time he had flopped into his own bed it was almost time to get up again. He felt like he'd been awake for three days.

  Jas's legs began to feel weak. He hadn't felt like eating breakfast and, come to think of it, he hadn't eaten dinner last night either. It was a miracle he was able to run any distance at all. The Riordan brothers were getting ahead of him, and behind him there was nothing but empty trail. Was he coming in last? It was chilly, but he felt a clammy sweat developing on his forehead. Am I getting sick? He thought to himself, trying to pick up the pace. His feet felt like concrete blocks on the end of his legs. Every step sent a jolt up his spine, and his head felt light and woozy. He stopped for a moment and leaned over, resting his hands on his knees, and immediately he felt much better. He breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the crisp air and the smell of pine trees. That's better, he thought, just need to catch my breath.

  Jas had texted Paige right before changing for his run, but she hadn't replied yet, and he'd had to leave his phone behind. He wanted her to meet him after lunch at The Imperial. That would give him time to get the $15,000 fr
om his account and pay her and her brother back before Mills arrived. Come to think of it, he needed to arrange the hotel room, too, and make sure the bar was stocked with Dom Perignon. But first he needed to get this run over with.

  He breathed in deeply, stood up straight and headed down the trail. It was mostly downhill from that point on, and pretty soon Jas was feeling a lot better. His head cleared, his legs started to hum with nervous energy, and his heart beat steadily. He listened to his running shoes scuffing in the dirt and concentrated on his breathing. He quickened his pace, striding further, and before long he was coming up behind Byron Riordan again. He passed him easily with a slight nod of his head. He passed Dennis a moment later, followed by five or six more runners in a tight group a little further up the trail.

  Jas was starting to feel really good now. He wasn't exactly competitive, but he liked to succeed, and he hated to do badly at something he knew he could do well. In that way, Jas was like his father. Dino Genovese had made himself extremely wealthy by becoming very good at everything he attempted, and Jas respected that. He admired his father, even though he saw very little of him, and, despite his flaws, Jas privately hoped he would grow up to be like him.

  Up ahead, Jas saw another, larger group of runners. That must be the lead pack, he thought, and he pushed himself even harder. His breath quickened, and he closed in on the group. There was less than half a mile to go, and the trail broke suddenly out of the woods and met the boundaries of the St Croix school grounds. Ahead of the runners, the school unfolded like an English country estate; an imposing red brick and stone campus surrounded by immaculate lawns, rugby and lacrosse fields, stately cedars and a long driveway that wound past lakes and a fountain towards the road in the distance.

  Jas broke into a sprint. He was feeling fantastic. His rhythm was perfect, and he pounded the trail past the surprised runners. The cross-country coach headed up the group, and as Jas barreled past, he called out encouragement.

  "Finally, Mr Genovese! We were wondering what happened to you."

  "Yes, sir!" Jas replied, his legs and arms flying as he ran down the gravel path towards the school.

  "Excellent run!" He heard the coach yell, but Jas wasn't stopping just yet. He felt like himself again, and his mind felt clearer than it had in days. He was going to treat Mills properly, he decided, starting tonight. She deserved better than to be cheated on, and Jas was filled with relief that he had stopped himself from going all the way with Paige. As he approached the school and turned left, heading for the locker room, he felt like he had been given another chance. He felt brand new. This is going to be a fantastic day, he thought, slowing up finally and barging through the boys' locker room door. And this is going to be an incredible night.