“Oh, no. That’s totally fair. He’s been very respectful of me. I’ve been sort of shocked, actually.”
“Why’s that?”
I give a funny laugh. “Because he’s Vaughn Yarborough. He’s known internationally. People in foreign countries around the world have watched him play. Guys cringe when they see he’s their opponent for a match. People all over earth click on the rankings each week, and see his name, and fear him. I can’t even imagine what that’s like.”
She cocks her head to the side. “He’s also just a boy, sweetie. And you’re a beautiful, sweet, caring, strong girl. You’ve got just as much value as he does.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat and nod.
She sits back in her chair. “Can I assume you know what a condom is and how to use it?”
And…I shrink. “Yes, ma’am. From school,” I add.
“Now, I’m not making any assumptions about the two of you, or giving you any sort of expectations. But if you do decide sex is right for you and Vaughn, can I count on you to come see me so I can arm you with a handful of condoms to protect yourself?”
I close my eyes from the horror of Nancy thinking about Vaughn and me having sex. “Yes, you can, but I really am not planning on that.”
This makes her smile. “Okay, then, hon. Let’s get to work on the pool.”
Chapter Thirteen
Vaughn
After both bathrooms are spotless enough to eat in, I collapse on my bed and let Nancy’s words really sink in. I can’t believe how careless I’ve been. That could have been Fred who saw us, and I doubt seriously he’d be as forgiving as Nancy. I could get jerked from the team. I could lose my scholarship. I’m supposed to be proving this summer that I’ve changed, not making things worse. All I can do is pray that Nancy won’t tell Fred. I don’t think she will, but I can’t be sure.
I grab my phone and head to the dock. I get the best reception there for some reason. I text Jamison to see if he can talk, and he calls me.
“Hey,” he says. “What’s up at Camp Tennis?”
“Not much.”
“Well, I know it’s more than that, or you would have just texted, so what is it?” When I hesitate, he says, “I saw the for sale sign in your yard. Are you okay?”
I swallow, I knew it was coming, but it would have been nice to get a warning from a parent who actually put the sale of the only home I’ve ever known in motion, but I’m damn sure not surprised they didn’t reach out.
“I’m fine. This isn’t actually about that.”
“You know you’re welcome at my house for Thanksgiving and Christmas, right?”
“I know. I appreciate that.” And I do, but there’s no way I’m going to crash his family’s holidays.
“So what’s going on at camp? Did Sadowski leave you high and dry or anything?”
“No, she’s good.” I take a minute to let those words sink in, dangling my legs off the dock.
“Oh, shit. You already hooked up with her? That was fast.”
“No, I mean, sort of. I just…I can’t be with her. We got caught in the woods, and I got my ass reamed.”
“Like hooking up?”
I turn around to make sure no one’s there. “Yeah. I mean no. Not screwing. Kissing.”
“Wow, dude. Isn’t that like, forbidden?”
“Fuck yes.” It feels weird saying fuck after I haven’t said it for a solid week. “I was hoping you’d help me figure all this out.”
“What’s to figure out? You can’t go there. You know that.”
I frown, looking at the expanse of lake water, a bird flying low and veering back up to the sky. “I know. I just need to man up and restrain myself.”
“They got cold showers there, right?”
I roll my eyes. “That’s pretty much how I take my shower every day anyway. There’s nine of us in one cabin.”
“That’s tough, man.”
“It’s not just that, though. This girl’s like…cool.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. She’s like, really easy to talk to and stuff. And you should see her with these kids. They love her.”
“What do they think about you?”
I frown. “They love me less.”
He huffs a laugh. “I don’t know what to say, man. I know this is a whole lot easier said than done, but what if you just put the whole thing on hold until after the summer?”
“Yeah. That’s what I should definitely do,” I say, but my ears sizzle like it’s a total lie.
“Don’t fuck this up. You want this, right?”
“Yeah. Hell yeah.”
“Then leave the hot girl alone, okay?”
I inhale a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I hear you.”
“I have to run. I’ve got work. But call me again if you need to, okay? I’ll talk you down off the ledge.”
“You’re not bad at that.”
“I know I’m awesome. You don’t have to tell me.”
I smile, missing hanging with him. I turn around to find Carlyn walking toward the dock, and I disconnect the call. Thank God I shut up before she came this way.
“What’s up?” I ask, pocketing my phone.
“Fred said dinner would be ready at seven if you want food.”
I nod. “Food sounds good. I guess we skipped lunch, huh?”
“I have granola bars in my room.”
I hold up both hands. “No thanks.”
She looks down, and then back up at me. “So does this mean no more…”
“Yeah, definitely.”
She nods. “That’s cool. Totally. See you at dinner.”
She heads back toward her cabin, and I rest against the rail of the dock. I had to pick the one girl to come work with me who I really like, and for more than just a pretty face.
…
I arrive at the house, and Fred’s in the kitchen putting dinner together while Nancy and Carlyn sit on the patio drinking iced tea. I approach him cautiously. If he knew anything, he’d have already been at the cabin kicking my ass, but I can’t be sure. “Do you need my help?”
“You can go ahead and take out that dish of potatoes. We’re eating on the patio.”
I pick it up and head that way. I set the dish on the already crowded table. I haven’t had a true home-cooked meal since the last time Jamison had me over, which wasn’t that long ago, actually, but feels like forever. Fred follows behind me and puts the last dish on the table. “Shall we eat?”
“Sure enough,” Nancy says.
Fred dishes potatoes onto his plate. “Well, Vaughn, how do you feel about your first week of camp?”
“I feel good,” I say, looking at Carlyn for her opinion.
“Mm-hmm,” she says, taking the green beans from Nancy.
“What do you think needs done different next week?”
Nancy purses her lips at me, and I clear my throat. “Just a few little tweaks. But I think we’ve worked out most of the kinks.” Nancy lifts her eyebrows and takes a roll from the basket.
Fred looks around the table at all of us who I realize are suspiciously quiet. “Do you have any suggestions for tomorrow’s campers?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “Don’t run through my flowerbed. Did you see what happened to my tulips?”
Carlyn smiles at me and takes a bite of food. I smile back at her, and then meet Nancy’s warning gaze. I focus on my food.
Dinner is tense but goes off generally well. Fred seems oblivious to anything that happened—either that or he’s really cool about it, which I seriously doubt.
Nancy, Carlyn, and I set up a system for washing and drying dishes. I guess they don’t have a dishwasher. Fred has plopped down in their rec room and is flipping channels.
“Hurry up!” he yells. “Field of Dreams is about to start.”
“Go on,” I say to Nancy. “Carlyn and I will finish this up.”
“He means all of us,” she says, handing me a dish to dry.
Ca
rlyn and I glance at each other, and then I turn back to Nancy. “Is that okay?”
She shrugs. “Of course. Just try to stay on your own side of the couch.”
I hand Carlyn the last plate to put away. “I can certainly do that.”
We finish up and head to the living room where Fred is kicked back in his recliner. Nancy sits in a chair with an ottoman in front, leaving the couch to Carlyn and me. I take the side closest to Fred, and Carlyn takes the one near Nancy. We’re maybe forty-five minutes into the movie when Fred starts snoring. I look over at Nancy, who’s knitting or something, and she peers at me from underneath her glasses. “If he gets too loud for you, just nudge him. I tune him out these days.”
Carlyn smiles at me, and we keep watching. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nancy nodding off, and then waking abruptly and going back to her knitting. She does this a handful of times before she’s out cold. The credits run on the movie, where the commercial for the next one is running over them. “Is that what happens when you get old?” I ask. “You can’t stay awake past ten o’clock?”
“I guess. Should we wake them?”
I look between the two of them, and they both look like they’re dead to the world. “I don’t know. We could tiptoe out of here and let them sleep.”
“Nancy actually ‘invited’ me to stay in the guest room tonight.” She puts quotation marks around the word.
“I should probably head out, then.”
She checks the two of them again. “Or we could watch Hoosiers. It’s coming on next.”
I like this idea better than leaving her. “Have you seen it?”
“No, have you?”
“No. I guess we should. It’s about Indiana high school basketball.”
“What, did nobody tell them we care much more about tennis here?”
I huff a laugh. “Apparently not.”
She sits back and sort of curls up in a ball on her side of the couch.
“Are you cold?” I ask.
“A little.”
“You have goose bumps on your arm.”
“Okay, a lot.” I hand her the blanket on the couch behind me. “Thanks. Do you want to share?”
I am cold. It’s like a refrigerator in this house, so I pull over some of the blanket, but it’s too short to stretch. “It’s fine. Take it all.”
She looks at Fred and Nancy, and then back at me. “Just scoot over a little.”
I consider it, and finally scoot about a foot over. She scoots a foot, too, and then hands me more of the blanket. “Thanks,” I say.
“Mm-hmm.”
We watch the movie for a few minutes, but I’m really not interested. I’d much rather be talking to her. “Your forehands were looking good by the end of practice today.”
She glances over at me. “Really?”
“Definitely. Did you get more comfortable with the new grip?”
“Yeah, you know, at first it felt really weird, but I just gripped the racquet tightly and remembered what you said about my wrist control and following through all the way, and it just sort of started clicking for me…after a few dozen bins full of balls, of course.”
I smile. “We didn’t do that many.”
“Felt like it.” She studies me, narrowing her gaze. “So did I improve on your last impression of me, from last year’s doubles match?”
“I’ve never thought you were a bad player, Carlyn. I wouldn’t have asked you to be my partner here at camp this summer if I thought you sucked at tennis. Honestly, the whole reason I thought you threw that match was that I’d seen you play so much better than that. It was stupid of me to assume you would be manipulative. I just… Most people I’m around have an angle.”
She looks at me curiously. “Like what kind of angle?”
I shrug. “They want to use me to promote their club or their business or something.” I hesitate, wondering if I should spill too much here, but her kind expression makes it so easy to talk to her. “I sort of fell for this girl once, another player on the circuit, but it turned out she was in it to make her ex jealous. And then the next girl I dated was way more interested in my notoriety than me. I guess you could say I have some trust issues.”
She nods, searching my eyes. “I totally understand.”
Under the blanket, her soft hand covers mine, and she threads our fingers together. Just her touch makes my chest sort of pulse, and my throat fill up for a flash.
“Can I tell you something?” I ask.
She nods.
“Those books in my cabin, I didn’t bring those for the kids. I mean, I’m happy for them to read them and take them if they want, but I brought them for me. They’re my favorites.”
She blinks, looking a little surprised, and I start to pull my hand away, but she squeezes it. “What’s wrong with that?” she asks.
I give her a look. “Come on, Carlyn. You’ve got books on math theorems in your room. I’ve got The Outsiders.”
She lets go of my hand but turns her body toward me. “The Outsiders is an amazing book. Are you kidding me?”
“Yeah, but we read it in like seventh grade.”
“So? Books don’t get worse as you age. They get so much better. How many times have you read it?”
I shrug, thinking about it. “I don’t know. Maybe three?”
“I bet you learn something new about a character every time you read it.”
“I do.” I scan her hazel-eyed gaze. “What’s The Kingdom of the Wicked?”
“Oh,” she says, waving me off. “It’s another book by Anthony Burgess—same author that wrote A Clockwork Orange. It’s about Rome and early Christianity. It’s pretty good. Do you want to borrow it? I mean, I don’t have it here, but I can give it to you when we get back home.”
I’m struck by the idea of seeing Carlyn outside of this world we’ve created. I’m not sure it makes sense right now. I’m also reminded of the fact that my parents are selling the house, and I’ll have no home to go to at the end of this summer, not one I’m familiar with.
“I think I’ll have to go to Memphis after this,” I say.
“Oh,” she responds, looking like she’s not sure what to say next.
“It’s fine,” I say. “It’ll just be until I can get into the dorms at Avery. I may even be able to stay with Jamison until he leaves for school. His family has sort of gotten used to having me around when I’m in town.”
She smiles. “That’s nice.”
“Who knows. Maybe the house won’t sell and I’ll be able to stay there till Avery starts.”
She frowns. “Your parents are selling your house?”
“Yeah, I guess nobody’s going to be living there once I’m gone.”
She stares at me with concern, and I wave her off. “It’s fine. It’s just a house.” I smile at her so she’ll smile back at me, and she does.
“So can I borrow The Outsiders? Or were you going to read it again this summer?”
“No, yeah, you can borrow it.”
Her smile widens. “Awesome. I haven’t read it since seventh grade, so it’ll be like a whole new book for me. Except I totally remember Cherry and Ponyboy…and Johnny and Dallas.”
“And Sodapop,” I say with a smile.
“Ah, now see, that’s a name. What were our parents doing naming us Carlyn and Vaughn when we could have been Coca Cola or Cherry Sprite or something?”
My instinct to kiss her is so strong that I lean in like I’m going to, but she leans back. “Vaughn,” she whispers, glancing back and forth between Nancy and Fred.
I clench my eyes shut. “Sorry.”
She takes my hand again and squeezes it, her face glowing in the light of the television. She turns back to watch the movie, and so I do, too, settling into being okay with just being able to sit with her.
Chapter Fourteen
Carlyn
It’s time for our Sunday morning training-torture, so I wait for Vaughn a minute in front of his cabin. He was so sweet last night on the
couch. I was dying to snuggle with him, but holding his big hand was almost as good. I’ve never sat and held hands with a boy like that before. It was more special than any kiss I’ve ever had…well, except for Vaughn’s kisses, I guess.
Jeffrey appears in the opening of the tree line. “Come on, Carlyn. I told him to sleep in,” he shouts.
“Oh,” I say, and pick up my step, jogging to the courts. I guess I should relish coaching time alone with Jeffrey. I just really was looking forward to seeing Vaughn. That’s fine, though. I need the one-on-one time with him.
When I get to the court, Jeffrey says, “How’s it going?” and not in a casual way.
By the look on his face, he’s not talking about the camp. “With Vaughn going pro?” I ask, and he nods.
I think about our talk last night about books. He’s clearly not as much of an advanced reader as I thought. Maybe he just likes middle grade books. There’s nothing wrong with that. They are awesome books, but I am starting to see that Jeffrey may have a very valid point. “I’m working on it. It’s hard, though. I don’t want to be too obvious.”
“That’s okay. Just keep working on it. That’s all I ask.”
“Okay.”
He nods at my arm. “Let me see your right arm.”
I hold it out to the side, palm up. He inspects my arm, twisting and turning it in a clinical doctor/patient sort of way. He eyes me, his expression deep with challenge. “I want to move you to a one-handed backhand.”
“Oh, no. I don’t think so. I’m way more comfortable with my two-handed backhand. I really like having the control.”
“Yeah, and half the reach. With your stagnancy on the court, you need all the help you can get.”
Stagnancy? He thinks I’m stagnant…like a slug. Lovely. “I just don’t think it’s the right time. We have less than two months till the tournament. What if I can’t make the switch by then?”
“Look, I’ve had a week to assess you, and I’ve put a lot of thought into this. Your speed on the court is not increasing. I’m not sure why, because you don’t appear to be lazy, but your feet don’t move as fast as your body seems to tell them to. Does that sound familiar?”
I get a chill, because it sounds eerily familiar. My feet have never moved as fast as I’ve wanted them to, and I’ve never understood why. I always thought it might be because I’m tall, but when I watch players like Venus Williams and Maria Sharapova hustle on the court, I reject that theory. “Actually, yes.”
Courting Carlyn Page 10
