by Ali Dean
March Matchup gets my adrenaline going in a familiar way, the unique energy and excitement that only comes from anticipation of a good competition. But, even with that pleasant hum, the pressure in my chest persists, and the sensation is also familiar, though much less welcome. My mother is getting married again, and the combination of repulsion and hope suffocate me. I finish one beer, and decide on something stronger, a spiked punch the girls mixed together while I was showering.
Why does she do it? We have plenty of money, I know it. I’ve seen the bank statements and the tax documents. If not for the money, then what? Maybe it really is love this time. No, not Delilah Ferris.
She’s not capable of it. So, what is she trying to prove?
Emma nudges my sides and speaks softly. “What’s going on, Mac? You’re in another world over here. Not to mention, you’re drinking punch.” She raises an eyebrow. Yeah, I’m not really a punch drinking kind of girl.
“Delilah is getting married again,” I murmur. “And, this time, I’m not sure why.”
Emma lets out a long breath. “You’re not sure why?” She can barely hide the disgust from her voice. “Come on, Mac, isn’t it just same old, same old?”
My lips twitch at Emma’s flippancy, but I can’t bring myself to smile. “Yeah, probably. He hasn’t even finalized a divorce yet. It just makes me feel shitty. Like I should have stopped her from breaking up a marriage, which I know is ridiculous. I know nothing about Roger, or his wife, or whatever, but still. It’s all so messed up. What is wrong with her? And, how can I be her daughter?”
Emma’s eyes widen slightly, and I know I’ve surprised her with my little rant. We rarely talk about my mother. Usually, we just pretend she doesn’t exist, and it’s a hell of a lot simpler. But, tonight, I’m so tired of pretending. She’s my mother. Half of me is from her. I can’t ignore that.
“You’re nothing like your mother, Mac,” Emma whispers fiercely, pulling us a little farther from the group.
Her words pierce me, and, out of nowhere, I’ve got the urge to burst into tears. I try so hard to not be like her, but I’ll never escape.
“Look,” Emma says, holding my elbow. “Forget about her. She doesn’t matter, alright? Don’t waste your time trying to figure her out. She might get to call you her daughter, but you know who your real family is.”
Emma’s eyes hold mine, and I nod in understanding, getting ahold of myself. “I really want to swing a racket right now.”
She laughs. “You’ve already spent, what, six hours on the court today? Drink some punch. The guys are at Tabor’s place, and want us to head over there.”
“I thought it was girls’ night? I was looking forward to dancing on tables and shit.” I like it when we’re just hanging with the girls. Even though the guys know I’m not really into the dating thing, it sometimes feels like they take my lack of interest as a challenge, and, if I’m out having fun and drinking, it’s like an invitation for them to hit on me. It’s annoying.
“You can still dance on tables, Mac. You know how the guys get.
Bianca and Tess and those girls are there, but…”
“We’re more fun?” “Basically, yeah.”
Bianca and Tess are cheerleaders, and I guess their group takes the “popular girls” title, but it’s probably not all that accurate, given that most people don’t actually like them. Well, the guys seem to like how they look, but that’s about it.
Tabor Julian has the party house. He lives in the same area of town, and it’s only a twenty-minute walk, which is very helpful. Tabor has two older brothers, now in college at the University of South Carolina, and his parents go to Hilton Head every weekend to visit their own parents or something. I don’t know the details, but their house is the go-to gathering spot nearly every Friday and Saturday night in Hillcrest. It’s been that way since Emma and I started sneaking out in the eighth grade.
It’s pretty low-key, with not too many cars lining the street. I’m well on my way to drunk, I know this, but I really don’t care. Yeah, we’ve got a match tomorrow afternoon, but it’s against Richardson, and I could beat their number one girl with one hand tied behind my back, or holding the racket in my left, or… yeah, she’s really not very good. I’m just saying, it’ll be easier than practice today for sure because Tabor was real competition. And, it’s not just me, I bet our top five players could beat her. We all know tomorrow’s a piece of cake, and that the tough matches will be coming soon enough.
I like to win. But, I also like to have fun. If I can do both, I will. Tonight isn’t really about having fun though, and I’ll admit, drinking for me often isn’t. It’s about getting away from my own thoughts, forgetting and enjoying myself. Same thing with tennis.
“Whoa, Mac, you hit it hard pretty quick, huh?” Jesse wraps an arm around my waist, and I lean into him.
“Yeah. It’s that kind of night. Where’s the music?”
Jesse laughs softly. “I don’t think everyone was planning on that kind of a night, Mac. Saving it for tomorrow, you know?”
Oh, right. Big party at the Kendricks’ tomorrow. I frown. “Emma says she doesn’t want to be a part of that. I think she wants to go to a Woodland party instead.”
Jesse’s eyes narrow. “Woodland? Why?”
Oops. That’s where her buddy Lincoln goes to school, and Jesse doesn’t know about him. But, he wouldn’t make a big deal of it, would he? Emma’s had boyfriends before. And yeah, Jesse gets uptight about it, but still.
“What’s wrong with Woodland?” I fish for information.
“Those guys are douchbags!” Cyrus, Jesse’s co-captain, calls out as he passes us.
Jesse looks at me like I should already know this.
“We’ve had some shit going on between our schools. You haven’t heard about it?”
“Now that you mention it, didn’t they trash our football field for a game in the fall? And, wait, were they the ones who egged Tabor’s house a couple months ago?”
“Yeah, it’s mostly the football and lacrosse guys. I don’t mind the tennis team. I’ve been playing against most of those guys since I was five, and we’ve never had problems.” Right, and Lincoln’s on the lacrosse team.
“I’ll talk to Emma about it. I don’t want you two going to one of their parties, okay? It’s been mostly harmless stuff, but it all started over Walden hooking up with their quarterback’s girlfriend, and then, uh, some of us went out with girls from Woodland and the guys got all weird and territorial about it. Stupid shit.”
Dave Walden is on the Hillcrest football and lacrosse teams, but it sounds like it’s grown beyond that. “Didn’t you hook up with a Woodland girl? Heidi, right?”
Jesse looks down. “Yeah, a few times. Nothing serious.”
I watch him, sensing there’s more to it, but he doesn’t elaborate. Jesse peeks up at me from under his eyelashes. “The guys will be all over you if you go to one of their parties, which you hate anyway, but this will definitely be for all the wrong reasons. Those guys are rough.”
“Oh, and Hillcrest High is full of gentlemen?”
He gives me a goofy grin, then takes my hand, and brings it to his lips, brushing his lips against it. “Why, of course. You just have to give us a chance.”
I hesitate for a moment, enjoying my hand in his, before pulling it away and walking outside. He can’t say things like that to me, especially after that moment we had earlier tonight. The Kendricks are all I’ve got, and I can’t let my feelings for Jesse mess that up. He should know better. I can’t be another one of his girlfriends. Even if he doesn’t know that, it would break my heart when it ended, he must know, at the very least, that it would be awkward for the rest of the family.
I’m not in partying mode anymore, and I opt for water and passivity, watching everyone interact from my spot on a barstool overlooking the open downstairs area. Really, though, my eyes keep returning to Jesse, and it’s not just because he seems to be the center of gravity in this room. His dark bro
wn hair is highlighted with lighter streaks from all the time he spends in the sun, and his golden skin is speckled with adorable freckles. People keep coming up to talk to him, only to be pushed out of position by other people who want to talk to him. He’s friendly and relaxed, the smile rarely leaving his face.
My body tightens when Bianca brushes her chest against his arm, and he doesn’t step away. Her long hair is blonde, like mine, but it’s styled in loose curves around her heart-shaped face, and I can’t deny that she’s beautiful. Jesse has “dated” (if you can call it that) nearly every one of the girls on the unspoken list of attractive ones at our school, except for Bianca. And me and his sister, obviously, but we don’t really count. I’m not even sure I’d be on the list, if not for the star next to my name that makes me a challenge, since I don’t date. Anyway, I wonder now if Bianca will be the next one. She’s certainly giving him the green light, and, now, with all the others fading away, it seems their friends are on board, making room for the two of them to do, well, whatever it is they do.
I feel so clueless at times like this. Yeah, I watch it all go down, and I hear about it, but really, I’ve got zero first-hand experience. Zero. And, usually, it doesn’t bother me, but, well, Bianca looks so smooth and confident beside Jesse, and yeah, I’m jealous. Except not. Because I never want to manipulate a guy into wanting me. He needs to come to me, and his intentions need to be clear. Someday. And, since Jesse’s the only one I’ve ever wanted, I could be waiting forever.
Chapter 3
“Forty-love,” I call out before serving a soft one. This is the only thing I really don’t enjoy about tennis. Playing someone who has no shot at beating me. It’s embarrassing for both of us, and it messes with my head. Do I give this girl some pity points? There are six games in a set, sometimes eight, and usually it’s the best out of three sets. This is the last game in our first set, and I’ve won every single point except for one, and only because she hit an unintentional drop shot that I couldn’t reach fast enough. Sally Childs is Richmond High’s number one girl, and she’s being a good sport about losing so thoroughly. She hasn’t given up, and she’s not throwing a temper tantrum. I respect her for keeping her head on straight as she loses one point after the next.
That’s the thing with tennis: sometimes the games aren’t at all evenly matched. It happens more often at high school games than my individual tournaments with the club, and today is a doozy. I’m not playing my best, and I haven’t gotten psyched up for the match, because there’s no challenge. I’m just hitting the ball over the net, and she usually hits it out of bounds or doesn’t get to it, even though the shots I’m giving her are straight shooters. Consistency is my game. I can hit hard, solid balls in bounds and one after the next. I’m quick, and I’ll chase down anything that’s thrown my way. But, I’m not doing the running today, my opponent is, and it’s getting sort of pitiful.
We rally back and forth a few times, and then she hits the ball into the net, and the set is over. The sun is beating down on us as we head over to the water station. Sweat is dripping down her chest and forehead, and she brushes some loose strands from her forehead. “I knew I was going to get my ass kicked today,” Sally admits. “But, damn, this is brutal. You’re a machine, Mackenzie.”
“Thanks.” This is so awkward. Seriously, what do you even say to that? I can’t pretend like I’m not kicking her ass, and, if I compliment her back, that’s sort of like complimenting myself, since I’m beating her. I need to change the subject. “So, do you know who you’re playing with for March Matchup next weekend?”
“Oh, yeah, Drake Rollins is our number one and we’ll play together. He’s a good player, but really arrogant. Have you met?”
Probably, since the tennis world is a small one, but I’m terrible with names. “Not sure.”
“He was talking all week about beating Jesse Kendrick, but everyone knew that was ridiculous.” Jesse won state last year as a junior, and he’s undefeated this season. “Oh, man, you aren’t matched with Jesse Kendrick for March Matchup are you?” She pretends to shudder. “You would be a terrifying doubles team.”
I laugh at her honesty. “I don’t know yet.”
Our second set goes as quickly as the first, and we’re the first ones off the court, allowing us time to watch our teammates play. Sally says she’s heading over to watch Drake get his ass delivered to him by Jesse. For a girl who just got her own ass handed to her, she’s in pretty good spirits. I guess she didn’t have any false illusions of winning today.
We didn’t have too many spectators at our match, since it wasn’t all that exciting, but the hill overlooking Drake and Jesse’s game is filled with people. Given what Sally told me, and what I know about Jesse, it’s probably not a particularly exciting game to watch either, but Jesse has a fan club, consisting of most of the football and cheerleading teams, which are off-season. It’s a home game, and Richardson High is only a half hour away, so I’m sure some of the fans are here for Drake.
Sally takes in the people below before sitting at the top of the hill, and I decide to join her rather than those from my own school. I’m considered popular enough to sit with anyone in most situations, but I prefer to stick to my tennis people.
My eyes find Jesse as he leans back and tosses a ball in the air, before swinging his racket and sending it to Drake’s backhand. Drake barely gets the ball over the net, indicating it came over with some serious force, and Jesse is able to slam an ace in the far corner before Drake can recover. As we continue to watch them play, it’s clear Jesse is dominating, though I don’t know the score.
Drake’s putting up a decent fight, but he’s not in the same league.
At one point, I notice Sally watching me. “Does he know?” she asks.
“What?”
“Does Jesse Kendrick know you have a crush on him?”
I just stare at her. I want to say, “It’s not a crush.” A crush sounds insubstantial and fleeting, and I’ve had… whatever it is… for Jesse since I was maybe five years old. But, instead, I laugh. Deny it.
“What are you talking about?”
She shrugs. “I just wondered. Everyone talks about the two of you, you know? But not together.”
I hardly know Sally, but she’s dropping this bomb on me like it’s her right to do it. We’ve been going to the same tournaments for years, though we’ve only had a few conversations. She’s always seemed liked a genuine girl, nothing particularly obnoxious about her, but here she is, noticing things about me no one else has ever noticed.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Jesse Kendrick is the prize for girls around here. He’s so sweet and charming, cute as can be, and the best tennis player. Don’t look at me like that. I’ve never dated the guy, but lots of girl have or want to. And, I don’t even think half of them care that it will be for a week or two. I’ve heard he’s nice about it and all, and, in the end, it gives them a social boost. Street cred, so to speak.” I think my mouth is hanging open. Who is this girl?
She chuckles at my expression. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, am I?”
I gather myself, and try to put on a less see-through expression. “Not really. I just don’t understand why you’re saying it.”
“I’m curious, I guess. Everyone talks about you as well, mostly in the tennis world, but in general, too. You’re sort of a prize in your own right, but it’s different. You never date. You’re friends with Emma Kendrick, his sister, I know that. But, now I’m wondering, how close are you with Jesse?”
There’s no undertone of malice in her question, and I can’t figure her out. She’s giving nothing away except her curiosity, and, though her candidness is startling, she’s not delivering it like gossip, just as facts. I try to play it cool. “Emma’s my best friend, and I’m close with her family. Jesse and I have been friends forever.” I’ve said before that he’s like family, but I’ve never said he’s like a brother to me. That
would be a lie. Not that I’m above lying, but, even saying those words sounds wrong on a visceral level.
Sally watches me for a second and then shrugs, “It’s not my business.” She turns back to the game. “Drake’s probably kicking himself for talking up this match all week. Everyone’s here to witness him lose.”
I don’t answer her, just breathe in and out slowly. How did she know? Was it just a good guess? A blind guess? Do others see it, too? The idea that everyone else knows how I feel, and has known all along, has my hands shaking. I can’t deny that the surge of adrenaline racing through me is anything other than fear.
“Hi, ladies,” Dave Walden, a junior on Hillcrest High’s football and lacrosse teams, stands in front of us, blocking our view of the court.
“Hi, Dave,” Sally says, and her voice is something else now. She’s in flirty mode.
“Don’t you have a lacrosse game, or something?” I ask.
“It was this morning. We won. So, Sally, I haven’t seen you around in awhile.” Dave sits down beside her, and I wonder at their history. He’s the most popular guy in my grade, but I don’t know much about Sally.
My eyes shift back to Jesse on the court as the two of them talk, and I’m not really paying attention until I hear Dave invite Sally to the Kendricks’ place tonight. Should I say something? Is Jesse trying to keep the party low-key, or is it cool to invite people from other schools?
But, then, Sally tells him she has other plans. “It’s a Woodland party,” she says.
I almost open my mouth to say that Emma and I might be there, but then I see Dave’s frown, and I remember what Jesse told me last night. “Don’t go. Those guys are jerks.”
“Oh yeah,” Sally says. “Isn’t there something going on between you guys? I heard about some Hillcrest – Woodland thing. What’s up with that?”
“Like I said, the guys are jerks. You should come hang out with us. I’ll text you the address.”
