Page 54 of The Rebel
“I told you that?” It was a relief to hear Paris chuckle. “That’s good advice.”
“Yeah. And stick with the game plan.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Paris huffed, “I panicked. And when he started slicing, I tried to slice back. And it would go into the net. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“It’s just the pressure,” I said, vividly recalling how many times I was told tennis was a mental game. Oh, Coach Gardiner said I had all the skills, all the shots, but it wasn’t enough if your head wasn’t in it. “You let it get to you this time, but next time you’ll ace it. You’ll see.”
“Hmmm,” Paris mused. “You’re not wrong—I mentally lost it.”
“Mental toughness is your strength,” I said, bringing out my best accolades. “Hey, Mom said you’re playing a doubles match later. Who’s your partner?”
“A kid called Phillippe from Belgium.”
“Okay, then. Another chance. You got this, Paris.”
Paris sighed and with a hint of sarcasm said, “Thanks for the pep talk, Coach.”
“You’re welcome.”
“How’s it going with the Sinclairs?”
“Fine,” I said, quickly adding, “And Volley is fine too.” Just so he wouldn’t ask anything about Jade. “Hey, good luck. I’m sure you and Phillippe will do great. You better text me later that you won.”
“Let’s hope so. I gotta go. See ya.”
I didn’t like that his enthusiasm had been curbed and was about to ask how Mom and Dad did with his drinks and bananas, but Paris had already hung up.
Paris had been on such a high since his performance at the US Open. Sure, he’d lost in the second round, but the fact that he’d won his first round in a Grand Slam tournament had been totally unexpected. Many people disagreed on his Wild Card entry, the invitation allowing him direct entry into the tournament which he wouldn’t have been able to participate in with his current ranking. There was talk that he wasn’t worthy, that there were other players more deserving. But Paris had used that negativity to prove to the haters that his selection was justified.
Now, I hoped that he wouldn’t suffer more backlash for this first round loss. The public could be savage to young sports stars who carried both the burden of being a success or a failure. Yeah, equally people could knock you back for your achievements as much as your losses.
Still reeling from Paris’s news, I prayed he could redeem himself in the doubles, but I wished I had someone to talk to. And when I say someone, I didn’t mean just anyone. No, more precisely, I wished I could talk to Jade. He knew Paris in a way that my friends didn’t and would have an understanding of what he was going through.
Going to the cafeteria, I stood in the doorway scanning the room. I heard my name called out and glanced over to see Kelsey waving her arms, sitting next to Gabby, Scott and the rest of our group. But it was the brown hair of Jade I was looking for. The blonde girl with the braid was there, and the girls from the parking lot, but Jade was nowhere in sight.
With Kelsey beckoning me over, I smiled and waved—but left. I doubted that they’d truly understand what I was goingthrough—not even Gabby. I did a quick jog through the hallways where the seniors’ lockers were, but didn’t see Jade anywhere. Deflated, and with the lunch bell ringing, I headed to my locker to get my books before traipsing all the way back across campus to my Spanish class.
By the time I finished my detention, my friends had left for the day and strangely there were no group chats about Chestnut Ridge. I would check back later, but at last a text came from Dad that Paris had won his doubles with Phillippe. It was two tough sets, 7-5, 7-5, but it was like part of me could breathe again, knowing he would play tomorrow.
It was only Dani, Oliver and me home for dinner as Jade had gone out with his friends. I don’t know why that annoyed—and disappointed me—because, of course it was normal that he’d hang out with his friends on the weekend. After dinner, Oliver and I played video games in the living room while Dani worked on a coloring-in. After he’d beaten me so many times it was an embarrassment, I was pleased when Dani sent him to bed. I should have gone to my room to try to figure out what was happening with tomorrow’s trip to Chestnut Ridge or to work on my portfolio, but somehow it didn’t seem right to leave Dani sitting alone. Who knew when Jade would be coming home? I wondered what it was like for her to have lost her husband, to have to bring up Jade and Ollie on her own. I couldn’t imagine Mom being without Dad.
“That looks interesting,” I said, curling my legs under me on the couch.
“Oh?” Dani exclaimed. “My friend gave me this book for Christmas. I just started it.”
I peered across at the detailed picture she was working on. “It looks cool.”
“It’s quite fiddly,” she said, selecting a new pencil. “But it’s kind of calming.”
“Oh, just like drawing,” I said. “You kind of get lost in it.”
“Exactly. I like to keep myself busy while watching tv. I remember doing paint by numbers as a kid,” Dani said with a smile. “Though you’re a bit of an artist, aren’t you?”
“Not really an artist,” I mumbled. “I just take art as a subject.”
Dani’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Kristin’s always saying you have a pencil in your hand?”
“I guess,” I said with a shrug. Probably Mom’s subtle way of explaining why I didn’t play tennis—pass me off as being ‘the arty child.’
