The spark // Art Donaldson

006. Jealous?

Cadell, 2005

"Let's go!" Cadell yelled clapping her hands vigorously. Game point.

Sweat was sliding down their bodies and Patrick looked like he was about to faint. It was up to Art to carry now.

Her eyes followed the ball bounce right and left.

Come on, she thought.

They were doing a continuous rally, and Art's movements were getting sloppier. Patrick barely caught the ball and hit it back. They were tiring out fast, and the other team showed no sign of mercy.

Courage on the court, heart in every swing. She had badgered them with this phrase continuously on the walk to the competition. They had to keep their spirit.

But then, just when it seemed like all hope was lost, Art unleashed a powerful hit that caught their opponents off guard, sending the ball soaring past them with lightning speed. Patrick followed up with a skillful volley, his racket connecting with the ball at just the right angle to send it flying past their opponents' reach.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the ball landed squarely in bounds, securing the final point and clinching the victory for Art and Patrick.

She jumped up along with the other spectators, a grin prominent on her face.

"Let's go!" She cheered.

The fire and ice looked up at her, grinning. Art gave her a small wink before the pair walked off, dabbing their faces with towels.

As the crowd slowly dispersed, Cadell made her way down to the court to congratulate her friends. She caught up with Art and Patrick just as they were leaving the court, their faces flushed with the exhilaration of victory.

"Happy you guys won a trophy?" She teased, nudging Art slightly. Art laughed, looking in the direction where the trophy stood, "I dreamed about it."

"What about you, Patrick?" He grinned, "All thanks to your relentless fucking training, Cady."

Cadell rolled her eyes, "I told you not to call me that."

Patrick made a pathetic pouty face, trying to look innocent, "but it's cute."

"Piss off," she said, elbowing him hard. Art watched her carefully.

"What would you prefer?" He asked.

She shrugged, thinking slightly before answering, "anything but Cady."

He nodded, humming.

"Can we have our winners come to the stand and pick up their trophies?" An amplified voice called out. The pair rushed over to the stand hurriedly.

There, they both got small trophies, one for fire and one for ice. Paparazzi swarmed them, taking pictures frantically.

The pair kissed the trophies as a pose, making girls in the crowd squeal in delight. Cadell could only giggle.

...

"What's so special about this tennis match anyways?" Art complained, "I want to go back and rest."

"Oh shut up Art."

Art slapped his head and Patrick tackled him on the bleachers, knocking him onto the floor, "it's Tashi Duncan!"

"And what's so special about her?" Art whined. Patrick sighed, his eyes glazing over as he looked into oblivion, "she's something else man. You'll see what I'm talking about."

And yes they did. The moment Tashi walked on court, both their jaws dropped– and Cadell was not excluded. Tashi was tall and thin, having the build of a model. She wore her hair in a high braid and her features were strikingly majestic. As she warmed up, Cadell looked over at her friends, who seemed to be in a trance.