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Chapter 9 - The Object of the Game

Life never ceases to amaze me. I would have never dreamed I'd be spending the first gorgeous day of the year watching two of my least favorite people play tennis and actually caring who won.

Anne abandoned her sketch and watched with me as Andrew bounced the ball on the court and prepared to serve.

"Best of three?" L asked as Andrew stalled for time by balancing the ball on his racquet and grinning widely at the others assembled.

"Make it one, lad. Higher stakes." Andrew shot back, bouncing the ball up high, doing a spin and catching it on his racquet when he turned back around to meet it. The others clapped politely, but L rolled his eyes and stalked to the center of the court, refusing to participate in such theatrics.

"Showboating a bit, huh?" Anne remarked as Andrew now tossed up his racquet, did another ridiculous spin and caught it behind his back amid more applause.

I groaned. "I don't know which of them is more childish. Get on with it, will you?!"

Andrew jumped at the noise but stopped messing about and walked sedately to the center of his side of the court and prepared to serve. I'd have to think more about my obvious power over him and decide whether I liked that I had any.

"You hen, you." Anne kidded. "Think he's any good?"

"I'll reserve my judgment, but with that display it doesn't bode well."

I had no idea if Andrew was decent, mostly because I had learned to tune him out when he went on about himself, but he had bragged a little and actually kept a racquet in his car so I thought perhaps that pointed toward him being competent. Far too easily taken in by devious eccentrics, but still competent.

L was bent forward with his racquet directly in front of him, both of his hands gripping the handle and his eyes following Andrew's every move. The spectators were completely silent as Andrew served. The ball whipped over the net and just missed L's racquet, zipping behind him. 15 - Love.

"Oooh!" we collectively winced and Andrew beamed, craning his neck back to wink at me on the hill. I didn't offer him any encouragement and blankly stared back, doing my best L.

He quickly turned back around and took the ball from Beto who had volunteered to be ball boy with nary a thank you to the child. I was reminded of another reason why I didn't want him to win.

L didn't look happy as he flexed his long fingers back around his racquet, and retained his stance, waiting for his opponent's next serve. Andrew lobbed a short one just over the net and L was there to meet it, shooting it back so fast Andrew hardly realized that he had missed his chance to return it as it went straight past him and bounced against the fence. Andrew's smile instantly disappeared and a cheer rose up from the stands. L was startled at the noise, but nodded in thanks.

"He's just warming up." Anne commented, plopping her sketchbook back in her lap and starting to draw a few light lines.

"What's inspired you this time?" I asked absentmindedly as Andrew readied to bring the ball back into play, apparently not quick enough for L who let out a loud sigh.

"L, of course. Have to capture his glory moment for Wammy's posterity."

She captured my interest as she added darker strokes, starting to form his torso on the sheet of paper. "You haven't drawn him since you were seven!" I remarked as L returned Andrew's serve with a forceful hit that Andrew was ready for. 15 all.

"Yeah, he's due for an update." She noted lifting up one of her locs to her lips and starting to chew on the ends. "Or I could draw an adorable depiction of your wedding day. I wonder if it'd be a casual affair, you know, blue jeans and trainers..."