For the Love of Tennis | ✅

Chapter 12

I’m tingling when I come home. The bees, it seems, haven’t left me.

Mum must have noticed it as she opens the door because she cocks her head to the side.

“You seem happy,” she notes as I breeze into the kitchen, leaving my tennis stuff on the stairs.

“Happy as a lark,” I chime.

“What? Sam’s been praising you again?”

I turn to face her. “Yes.”

“And what else?”

I pause.

“That can’t be the only thing. Last time you came home and he’d praised you like an idol, you didn’t look half as happy.” She folds her arms which tells me she isn’t going to budge anytime soon.

I’d only lied to her because my phone was on the line, but now that it isn’t anymore, I don’t need to worry.

“I met someone,” I tell her. “A boy. He’s called Amias.”

She looks genuinely surprised. “So soon?”

I glance at the floor, suddenly sheepish. “Well, it has been seven months. And Dayson has Megan now.”

My mother nods, but her arms are still crossed. “And so why are you happy?”

I can feel a flush along my neck.

“Come on,” she continues. “Spill. You used to tell me everything.”

She’s right. Whenever something happened, however drastic, she’d always be the first to know. We’d bound onto the sofa, hot chocolate in hand and then we’d laugh and coon at photos on Dayson’s Facebook page.

“Okay,” I relent, grinning, and then pull her onto the sofa.

I tell her everything. About the encounter with Megan in the canteen, about the first meeting with Amias, about Dayson and Megan hitting it off behind the courts. I even tell her about the small, insignificant things like Mel’s attitude and small rumblings happening in the school that Kylie has been filling me in on every time I get a chance to sneak a tiny look at my phone in the mornings.

“You shouldn’t have lied to me,” she says after listening for a full ten minutes in rapt silence.

“I know,” I say softly. “And I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

“Well, there’s only one way to make it up to me.”

“And what’s that?”

She pauses before she speaks as though she’s picking her words carefully. “You come in again tomorrow and you apologise to Andre for me.”

I lay my hand on hers. “Of course.” I was going to do that anyway.

“Now tell me about Amias again.” Her cheeky self returns; I can only marvel at the glint in her eye. “When are you inviting him over?”

I can only laugh as she pesters me with more questions.

It’s like the old times.

It’s like having my best friend back.