by Sara Hammel
Now Goran had a lump in his throat. “And so I went out to the pool and saw her there. I—I—didn’t know what to do. I don’t know what happened. I was three hours late; it was three a.m. Because of me, someone killed her.” Goran looked on the verge of a breakdown. “If I’d been there, no one could’ve hurt her. But I swear: she was dead when I arrived, and I knew the lifeguard would come very soon. I did not think it would do any harm if no one ever knew I was there.”
It broke my heart to hear that Annabel was waiting for the love of her short life to come and meet her, but evil came instead. I figured Ashlock had to give Goran a big hug now. Instead, he said, “Mr. Vanek, I’m going to have to take those shoes with me. You are officially a person of interest in the murder of Annabel Harper.”
Goran didn’t flinch. “My parents have hired a lawyer, so from now on you must speak to her. And check Annabel’s texts, her phone records. You will see I am telling the truth.”
“I will,” Ashlock promised. “But I still need your shoes. And by the way, her phone was found destroyed in the pool. We can get phone records, but no texts.”
With that, he left Goran on Court 1, shoeless, looking devastated and silly at the same time in his white tennis socks, Volcano Onyx racket drooping at his side. No one won today, I thought. Certainly not Annabel. I would never, ever believe Goran could hurt her, not for all the tennis balls in the entire club. Meanwhile, I wondered why Ashlock hadn’t asked the question that I, for one, was dying to know: What “rumors” were going around about Goran?
Before
As July steamed along, something strange started to happen: Evie was shrinking. Everywhere she went, she was awkwardly hiking up her sweatpants. I noticed it in her cheeks—they were more angular and less juicy, for lack of a better word. I hoped she wasn’t sick.
One Cookie Wednesday not long after she first picked up that racket, she came to the club looking … well, fresher is the best word I can come up with. She was slimmer than ever, made evident by a shocking new outfit. She still wouldn’t risk shorts, but she’d teamed a new, more fitted pair of lightweight navy blue bottoms with a girlie (though only slightly less oversize) hot pink T-shirt. I wondered what she’d had to do to get Lucky to take her shopping.
She greeted me at the club’s entrance with a smile, which was rare, and that made me happy. We ran inside, where Evie deflated the littlest bit. I stayed glued to her side, and we made it through the lobby without incident. I don’t think she noticed what I saw—Tad Chadwick and his minions Marcus, Fat Stan, and a redheaded new kid were checking her out, not with disgust or annoyance, but with interest. I took note, then followed Evie through the café before realizing she’d veered off to the left toward the pool, not to Court 5.
“Harmony said we can hang out at the pool when it’s not too crowded,” she told me excitedly. “Of course, absolutely no lounge chairs for us. They’re for members only.”
Hallelujah! It was about time she ventured out of her hovel. Evie pushed open the revolving door and we were greeted by a blast of morning sunshine. Harmony held out his hand for a low five, and we each obliged. His eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses as he watched two senior citizens doing laps, ready to dive in, in the event they needed saving.
The grass was soft and warm. Evie got comfortable on a towel, then took out her latest book. I eyed it, and she explained, “I thought I’d try something a little more fun.”
Ah. A Wrinkle in Time. I was glad she was lightening up a bit. I had to give credit to the Green Monster for this change. Goodness knows Evie needed an outlet that involved swatting at objects as hard as she could. Her mom’s “weekly” phone calls were now down to about one every ten days, and last time they’d spoken, Evie’s mom had told her how she was really “getting to know herself” for the first time and how beautiful the mountains out West were. She hadn’t asked Evie a single question aside from How are you?
So Evie now whacked away at that wall whenever she got the chance. She’d even taught herself how to serve, contorting her body while managing to get the ball in the right box five times out of ten, and with some good power on it. The Green Monster was a friend. It would never judge her or blow her off—kind of like food, but cheaper and with less calories. Evie never beat the Green Monster, but she never gave up, either. Anwyay, we had the lawn to ourselves so early in the day, our own little piece of heaven, at least for the time being. Goodbye, stinky Court 5 back room. I stretched out and took a nap.
* * *
We hit the camp buffet at lunchtime, at which point Marcus, who very well might be cute one day but for now had that weird fuzz above his lip and a rather lumpy gait, ambled up to Evie as she was putting together a ham sandwich. She handed me a carrot. I crunched away as I observed Marcus, wondering what he was up to.
“Hey, Chelsea,” he said, and elbowed Evie awkwardly. “Hey, um, Evie?”
She wrinkled her nose upon being addressed directly. Ugh, this could get ugly. Marcus swiveled his head back and forth to be sure no one was listening.
“You know that new kid Ronnie? The redhead?” he asked. His eyes were shifty but I thought it could be because he was nervous, not necessarily because he was up to no good. Evie nodded.
“Mmmhmm.”
“He, um … he likes you.”
Evie suddenly wasn’t so nervous anymore. She gripped her paper plate, weighed down with a half-made sandwich and a bunch of red grapes, until it shook.
“Shut up, Marcus,” she said.
I was braced for a fight. I wasn’t going to keep quiet if this got bad, no matter what Evie had said in the past about me staying out of it.
“No,” he said earnestly. “I’m serious. He thinks you’re cute.”
My mom had been saying for a while now that someday Evie would be pretty or cute or even beautiful, in between calling her chubby behind her back. So I could see how the new kid might actually think that right now, in the present. Evie had color in her cheeks and she was looking really healthy. Of course, this Ronnie was hanging out with Tad Chadwick, which was bad news. Unless … maybe he had a particularly strong backbone. Hey, stranger things have happened. Marcus grabbed a handful of barbecue Lay’s out of a bowl and said, “He wants to talk to you. Meet him out behind Court 9 at snack time, okay?”
Court 9 was not exactly make-out ridge, but it was known to host the occasional tryst simply because it was out of sight. Evie was sizing him up, testing her instincts and scrambling for a response. “Out back?” she repeated.
Marcus nodded and scurried away. I very possibly saw sincerity in his eyes. After the morning we’d had in the sun, it would be one more nice thing to happen to Evie, to have a boy actually like her. She looked at me. I was on the fence. I thought it was sweet, but I also wasn’t naïve, and neither was Evie. I wasn’t sure what she should do. Tad and his crew had tormented her all summer, but then again, Evie had transformed recently, and redheaded Ronnie had only arrived at camp last week, and maybe he hadn’t been poisoned by Tad yet. If Tad knew nothing about this, perhaps it was real. We took our food out to the pool to think about it. We had a few hours until snack time. Personally, I thought it was worth a shot.
* * *
Normally at snack time, Evie’s biggest concern was nabbing some of the white chocolate macadamia cookies while they were still warm, and before anyone in the camp saw her. You couldn’t have a fat girl scarfing down cookies in public, she’d explained to me. Too much ammunition. This time, of course, she had too much on her mind to think about cookies. She was hyped-up and nervous, but I did my best to keep her calm. We decided it would be uncool for me to tag along and would make her look like she couldn’t do anything by herself. But if she thought for one second I wouldn’t be watching out for her, she was crazy.
Precisely at three p.m., she headed out the glass patio doors by the café and picked her way across the gravel strewn at the back of the four outdoor courts. Her arrival would be announced long before Ronnie saw her because
the back passage was a five-foot swath of deep pebbles. She crunched along, slowly but surely, her footsteps in concert with the popping sounds of three different tennis matches going on at once. I watched from behind the Dumpster. Ronnie was there, fidgeting, looking around like he was waiting on a drug deal.
“Hey,” he said when she got there. He couldn’t muster a smile—too nervous.
“Hey,” Evie said. Same deal.
He looked down and kicked some stones. The town dump loomed in the distance behind his shoulder, set against a beige sky. A haze had moved in since morning, and they were predicting rain in the early evening.
“What’s up?” he said.
“Not much,” she replied. “So…” She looked up at him expectantly.
“So,” he said. “Um … Marcus talked to you?”
Evie nodded and cleared her throat. “Sort of.”
“I’ve seen you around. You really like to watch tennis.”
She nodded. “Yeah. You’re new, right?”
“This is my first summer. I signed up for two weeks but now my mom said I can go for a full month. I’m totally psyched.”
This was not only awkward and boring, but painful, too. But it was safe, so I relaxed a bit. She wasn’t going to get into any trouble. Marcus took a deep breath and managed to make eye contact with her. This kid was a bundle of nerves. He held out his hand. “Want to try?”
Evie’s eyes lit up. He handed her a brand-new, shiny little tablet of some sort. This was mega contraband—Gene did not allow campers to bring cell phones, computers, or anything electronic, for that matter, into the club. She put on his blazing-green headphones and said, “What’s on here?”
“‘Summer Cool,’” he yelled, but she hadn’t turned it on yet so she winced. She pressed Play and nodded along with the music.
Evie was totally starting to get sick of that song, but she yelled back, “My favorite song!” As she was listening, Ronnie took a step closer to her. They were still about three feet apart, but it felt intimate. Oh, God. I felt it, and Evie felt it. Her face looked like she was bracing to become a victim of a chain-saw massacre.
He was going to kiss her. But then something stopped him: the sound of people coming toward them. Tad, Marcus, and Fat Stan were sneaking through the parking lot. They were going to ruin everything, and there was nothing I could do. Evie’s first kiss was now or … who knew when. If Tad found out Ronnie liked Evie, he’d tear them both to shreds. Within seconds the three boys came around the Dumpster, and suddenly they were there and grinning, and Tad slapped Ronnie on the back. I hated to give any of them credit, but Ronnie looked mildly uncomfortable, and even Marcus looked like he wasn’t entirely on board with what I now realized was about to happen.
“Whatcha doing back here, Ronnie boy? Going elephant hunting?”
Evie held her ground and didn’t crumple, and we were both trying to figure out if Ronnie was in on it or not.
Then Ronnie laughed. “Yeah. God, it totally worked! I can’t believe she fell for it!”
This kid didn’t even have the guts to look his victim in the eye. Evie glared at them. No tears. I thought it was her new tennis hobby. Strong body, strong mind.
She finally said, “So you said you liked me because?”
Ronnie snorted and looked at the ground.
Tad cackled and doubled over at the hilarity. “Ronnie doesn’t like whales. Give me a break.”
Then the absolute worst thing that ever could have happened to my friend happened.
Evie farted.
It came out forcefully, one little parp, and the boys couldn’t even laugh at first because they couldn’t believe their luck. Within a few seconds, though, they were buckled over, guffawing and pointing and laughing. Tad screamed, “Nice fart!”
Evie was purple and breathing hard. Enough was enough. She turned to run back in, but then Marcus took a step closer to her, and Tad came up on her right. She was surrounded by the laughing boys.
“Hey, fatty. Fatty farty. Someone should drive out to the country and make you walk back. Ever heard of exercise?”
Evie stood frozen in the spot. She couldn’t outrun them, and if anyone else saw this, the humiliation would be complete. The thing was, I knew Tad was capable of hurting people. Last year he’d forced a kid to eat a whole packet of Pop Rocks and wash it down with a can of Coke, knowing full well the combination could make the kid’s stomach explode. Thankfully, it hadn’t worked.
“Hey, do you think her blubber would explode if we lit it on fire?” The redhead was carrying a lighter for some reason and he pulled it out, stepping toward Evie.
That was it for me. I took one step out from behind the Dumpster. Tad saw me and seemed a little thrown by my expression. Oh, I was irate, and he was starting to get that. Lucky for Tad, I didn’t have time to make a plan of attack, because around the corner came Harmony, cigarette out and ready to be lit. He saw our unlikely gathering and stomped on over, a scowl on his face.
“What’s going on here?” he boomed. “Evie, are you okay? Are these boys bothering you?”
She nodded, too choked up to talk.
“Look, you little worms, get lost,” he said. “And if I catch you anywhere near this girl again I’m going to rip your tongues out and stick them up your butts.”
The boys looked frightened and scurried away like roaches toward the parking lot, but Tad put on a bit more of a show of bravery, stopping and turning back to throw one more insult our way. “Freak,” Tad yelled. “We’re not afraid of you.”
But I noticed he put many lengths between himself and Harmony before he said it. Harmony took one long, strong stride toward Tad, and the boys jumped at the sound of his shoes stomping the ground. Tad turned and ran with his gang, which was way ahead of him. Harmony winked at us, lit his cigarette, and leaned up against the building doing his stork thing with his right leg. With the butt dangling from his mouth, he said in a cool Elvis Presley side-mouthed way, “They won’t be bothering you again.”
Then he blew some smoke and looked off into the distance, thinking about something deep, I was sure of it.
* * *
Evie’s chest was heaving by the time she made it back into the café, not caring who saw her. The only variety ever left over on Cookie Wednesday was oatmeal raisin, which Evie couldn’t stand, but she grabbed every last remaining one. There had to be three or four in each hand. She took those cookies and ran to the back room, bingeing and crying, both of which ultimately sedated her and, for those few minutes, took the edge off the pain.
Afterward she’d be worse off than ever, and I’d be there to catch her fall. Even so, I couldn’t fix any of it. I knew then that our short, happy time out at the pool in the grass might be over. I stayed with her that day, and for the first time, I was getting truly panicky about her. Evie cried longer than ever, and nothing I did to comfort her could stop her bawling.
Before
Evie did eventually stop crying on that fateful Cookie Wednesday. I was with her when she finally shuddered to a stop. Later, when she was good and sure every single camper was gone for the day, she ran as fast as she could to the front desk and grabbed the first racket she saw. She headed back to Court 5, with me alongside her. But when we got there, the court was taken by Celia giving a post-camp private lesson to an old lady. I heard Evie’s sharp intake of breath, which usually preceded tears, but I guess she was all out of water because she switched gears and galloped away without another crying jag.
I followed her back toward the main lobby, where she soon came to an abrupt stop and took stock. The indoor courts were empty and still lit, and no one was in the lobby to catch her hitting, so Evie took a chance and ran out to Court 1, where there was a five-foot-wide, ten-foot-tall bit of exposed concrete at the back of the court. It was no Green Monster—in fact it was a boring old beige—but it would have to do. She took a ball in one hand, tucked a couple of spares in her waistband, and started nailing the balls as hard as she could—forehands,
backhands, swinging volleys—against the wall over and over.
Whack, thud, bounce, whack, thud, bounce.
She was so furious that she was doing some seriously fancy footwork to get in position. Evie was so into it that she didn’t notice someone moving stealthily out onto the court. Her ponytail was going wild as she swung, and that ball was the only thing she saw.
That someone heading for her was the god of tennis himself. I watched Goran walk out there, and I was annoyed for Evie because clearly he was going to kick her off. I hoped the ten minutes she’d been out there had been enough to get it out of her system, because Goran was about to give her the boot. But Court 1 was Goran’s stage, and Lord knew whatever he did out there would be a crowd-pleaser for every club member who might walk by, so there was no fighting it. The Czech wonder, who should have been exhausted from training all day but was still going strong like the Energizer Bunny, was fixated on my friend as he walked out onto the court.
“Hey, Evie,” he said from across the net, his voice bouncing off the empty building’s gargantuan walls. “I’m waiting for Will to finish work. Wanna hit with me for a minute?”
Evie gulped and looked like she was going to barf. For one thing, the guy had come out of nowhere. If she’d known he was anywhere in the vicinity she would never have set foot out on Court 1. Plus, I think that was quite literally the first time Goran had ever spoken directly to her. I mean, outside of polite hellos in a group of people or asking her nicely to get out of the way. She was too shocked to do anything other than nod, but I knew something was up. I ran inside to find out what the deal was, and went straight to the coaches’ office. Evie wasn’t stupid, and she’d already been brutalized once today. If they were setting her up to make fun of her, I was going to make them pay. Big-time.
I skidded to a halt outside their office, and on first glance I thought there was no one there, because the chairs were all empty, the desks vacant. But then I noticed Will standing in front of the office window like Thor or Atlas, strong and powerful, arms crossed high over his chest. His mouth was set in a serious line. I observed him watching intently as Goran tossed a ball to Evie. She zeroed in on the ball, skipped up to it, turned to her side, lowered her racket, and whacked it back to Goran. He returned it with a little less power. Evie wasn’t exactly light on her feet, but she made it to the ball, set up, and hit it to him. It was weird; she never could’ve talked to Goran for more than three seconds without cowering in sheer terror, but put her a court’s distance away and give her something to focus on and she was like Maria Sharapova on caffeine. Will turned to leave the office, and I moved out of sight and scooted off before he could catch sight of me. He headed out, walking toward the courts. I followed at a distance.
