Page 30 of Break Point
I set my racket bag and tumbler on the ground and squat to embrace the sweet kid. He’s adorable. More boys and girls swarm me for a group hug, tackling me until I fall back on my butt with a laugh. This interaction warms my heart in a way I didn’t realize I needed.
“How’s your day going, guys?” I call out in a loud, excited tone for everyone to hear.
“Good! Great!” they all yell at once.
I laugh.
“That’s awesome! Were you guys training hard in there?”
“Iwas,” the boynamed Alex says.
“Me too!” some of the other kids say. “Me three!”
“I want to be like you when I grow up,” one of the girls says shyly. She has brown hair, brown eyes, and a soft warm beige skin tone, just like mine. The resemblance makes me sigh.
I’m about to reply when a brown-skinned girl with beautiful golden-brown curls tied back in a tight ponytail says, “Me too!
“Well, I’m sure you will all be better than me.
I mean it.
They seem so pure, gentle, and innocent. It makes me wonder how, one day, without realizing it, we lose those qualities and grow up. Some for the better, while others, not so much.
“Nice to meet you, Belén,” one of the coaches says, waving hello from above. I’m still sitting on the ground, surrounded by kids. “My name is Aubrey, and this is Catie.”
“Nice to meet you,” I reply with a smile.
“Would you mind if we snapped a few shots of you with the kids?” Aubrey asks.
“Of course! I’d love to.”
Catie and Aubrey start directing the kids, which is no easy task. Finally, they manage to set everyone in place and take turns snapping a photograph so they can both be in it.
“Thank you so much, Belén,” Catie says. “You did such a great job at the Open. We watched the final, and we were bummed about the result, but you were amazing. You should be proud of yourself.”
You probably watched me lose my shit at the end, too.
The thought is mortifying.
“Thanks, Catie. I won’t let you guys down next year. I promise.”
“Oh, no! You didn’t let anyone down,” Aubrey pitches in. “We’re all so proud, and the kids love you.”
I’m about to reply when everyone starts pointing at the main fence. Some kids begin asking questions, while others run toward the flashing lights.
When I turn around, a group of paparazzi swarms the other side of the fence, right by the curb.
Damn it.
Henry marches out of the main building with Jasper and spots the paparazzi.
“It was great meeting you guys,” I tell the kids. “But it’s time for us to leave.”
“Yes, of course,” Aubrey replies. “Thanks again, and good luck.” Both Catie and Aubrey glance at the photographers, who always make for a frightening scene. They’re ruthless, invasive, and often downright rude.
I grab my things and am about to leave when a girl tugs on my hand a few times. I look down to see the same dark-haired girl who reminds me of myself when I was younger.
“Are you sad?” she asks in barely a whisper, wringing her fingers nervously. I frown and bend down to talk to her.
