For the Love of Tennis | ✅

Chapter 11

Mum comes in like a hurricane. She strides through the door and whips it behind her so it closes with a terrifying slam. Then she’s up the stairs like a gorilla, voice shrill as she hurtles herself into my room.

“I can’t believe you did that!” she roars. I jump a little from the bed, scattering my revision notes across the covers. “I told you not to do anything rash and the first thing you do is demand a pay rise?”

“I was trying to help,” I say quietly.

“Well screw your helping, Chandy! It’s gotten us nowhere!” She jabs a finger to my chest. “Tomorrow you’re going in and apologising because what you did is disgraceful. You hear me? Utterly disgraceful!”

I can only hang my head low as my bedroom door slams shut.

Mum doesn’t talk to me for the rest of the afternoon. I can only hear her seething in the living room.

I understand her anger. She was hoping I’d give a good impression, not blow the whole thing up.

I’ll make it up to her, I think as I get myself ready for training. Somehow.

* * *

Sam has got a haircut. That’s the first thing I notice as I step out onto the courts. He’s got it cut so now it sits above his head. His old, thin locks have been loped off.

He must have caught me staring. “Just in time for summer,” he says, grinning.

That’s the only jokey thing I get from him the whole session. Once the war starts in the battlefield, he turns into a general. His eyes go hard, his lip curl into an occasional sneer, he pushes us to our absolute limits and then, for the sake of it, pushes us some more.

As I run, I notice that Megan isn’t here. I turn to one of the girls next to me who’s bright red in the face, nose streaming.

“Where’s Megan?”

She glances over to me, surprised that someone’s taking the effort to talk to her.

“I don’t know,” she says between pants. “When I called her, she said something about going over to her boyfriend’s.”

“Chandy and Mel!” comes Sam’s vicious growl. “Less chatting, more sweating!”

I thank her and push on forward until I’m at the front of the line.

It’s a good thing Megan’s not here. Not only do I get to slide past her wrath as I shouted at her father, but I also get to shine in the limelight.

“Brilliant, Chandy.”

“Nice shot!”

I revel in Sam’s praise. The others, including Mel, look at me in disgust.

By the end, I believe I’m almost glowing from the attention. And I gobble it up. All mine. Not Megan’s. Mine.

“Where’s Megan?” Sam asks us at the end. “Mel? You’re good friends with her.”

Mel glances at me, eyes warning. She’s the same one I asked at the beginning. If she mentions the truth about Dayson, then I’m sure Sam will be having none of it.

“She’s sick,” she says. “I think her Nan died.”

Sam’s eyes narrow. He knows what she’s getting at. I don’t think he’ll ever get over the shame of shouting in that girl’s face.

Mel looks smug. “Maybe don’t pick favourites next time.”

“If this is a personal attack on me, Melanie,” Sam says slowly, “then I recommend you walk out of these gates as fast as those little legs can carry you.”