the roars infused my blood with something hot and heady. adrenaline? probably. fear? definitely. anticipation? without a doubt. the riotcouse crowd were unrelenting as i fixed my gaze determinedly on my side of the court, my battlefield. my weapon slick with sweat in my hand.
the suns brightness danced arounds the corners of my vision spiking my eyes, unlike its usual familiar caress it scorches my neck and back. the smell of my own sweat infuses my nostrils as well as the familiar scent of tennis balls. they have a particular stench; a harshness not unlike nail polish but also heady like freshly mown grass. my nostrils flares as my long legged strides arrived me at my destination.
i shook myself out preening like a cat and slowly unzipping the coarse covering of my racket and lazily stretch my legs as if i was on my own tennis court despite being slick with nervousness. my muscles already ached with a pleasureable burn from the heavy workout mark had commited me to this morning.
i lifted my head to the light ready to face the music; i was front and centre to thousands of eyes burning into me from every direction. i do a full 360. wave. smile. wink at children barely in my line of sight. this place was huge, so huge. not wibledon but close enough. the burn of anxiety flooded through me again.
i leveled my eyes at my opponent. she was pretty in an english way, with icy blonde hair and legs that put even mine to shame. most importantly her icy blue eyes pierced me with the rage of a thousand suns. geez am i that hateable.
i knew her of course. elsie baker, trust fund kid, lady catherines private education, scored 4th in the worlds 15-18 tennis. im the second best in the world so maybe in her point of view i get why she hated me.
she wanted to win. but i needed to.
the game was signaled to start. i raise my racket...
5 HOURS LATER
"viola, here"
"thanks".
mark, my coach, places his jacket on my shoulders and gives me his boyish grin. i stare into my phone exhausted beyond belief after fully exerting all my muscle strength. that elsie girl had played well, a little too well. it had been a close match.
"cheer up you played well" . i sighed deeply glancing at him with a small frown. "mark, that was close cut. even for someone whos ranked fourth in the country. shes not even third. how am i supposed to beat Zuri for first in a few months?".
he calmly placing a hand on my shoulder. "viola, listen, all that matters is that you won now, it doesnt matter if you messed up 1 silly backhand, youll be prepared for zuri. ill make sure of it ok?"
i nodded "promise?" " promise. but right now we need to get you ready" he slips into his business voice "because we have a quick press stop at richmond then we board a 6:30 flight to pennsylvania, we need you slept, fed and dressed. plus you need a shower". i grin at him "rude!". he laughs pinching his nose with two of his fingers" you know it too. see you in and hour after youve put on the armani your mother so kindly laid out for you". he dissapears out of the room in that graceful way of his and i smile at where he sat fondly. i really liked my coach.
i flicked up my instagram and glanced at tiktok made edits iv been tagged in. i grin more maniaclly as i glance at videos of me in velocity from the youtube video of me sponsoring gymshark or on the court. i was only 15 yet it genuinely baffled me that people decide to take their time to make these videos of me, not to say i didnt just like them, i loved them.
i tap of a follow request from a verified creator. before i could even take in his full name -wa , the door slams open to marks expectant face." no time for dawdling, check your socials on the plane. come one!
END OF CHAPTER 1
