Page 71 of The Tomboy

I slumped back onto my heels, pondering his words. “My mental game let me down,” I said, “and that affected my ability to play. I was too busy thinking about other things and my ball toss was all wrong, my timing, my footwork. Everything.”

“It does sound like there was a lot going on today,” Dad said softly. “Max and Millie filled me in.”

I jumped up and rushed into Dad’s arms, and I poured out all the dramas of the day, starting with how the release of the story in the school newspaper had messed with my head, and that the thought of Max and Millie betraying me had been more awful than the fact that I lived in a rundown house. Okay, this house might not be pretty, but it was filled with all the things that were special to Dad and me, and I loved my small but private bedroom, and the cozy living room, and most of all, it took minimal time to clean. I could whizz around with the vacuum cleaner in minutes!

I explained about finding out that Addison’s mother owned the sports boutique, and she was the likely source for leaking out my home address, though admittedly that was my own detective work and unverified.

Then I told him about talking to Phoenix, how Max wasn’t playing tennis because he felt guilty about what happened to Phoenix, which in turn made me realize there were bigger problems in the world than living in the poor part of town.

“So, what made you go to the garden center?” Dad asked.

“To be honest, I was hiding from you,” I admitted. “I knew you’d be mad that I didn’t go to the team dinner. But then I remembered I hadn’t bought any bulbs yet.” I scooted back to my tennis bag and pulled out the bag of bulbs. “Oh, and in some miraculous coincidence, Max turned up. Would ya happen to know anything about that?”

“Max and Millie were so upset about the whole thing,” Dad said with a sigh.

“I need to message Millie,” I said, crossing my fingers and holding them up to Dad. “Hopefully she’ll forgive me.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand,” Dad said.

I held up the packets of bulbs. “Daffodils,” I said. “Max helped me pick them out.” My voice caught for a moment and I sniffed. “I’m sure Mom would like these. I’m going to put them in the refrigerator to chill,” I said. “Don’t try to eat them!”

Mom’s method had been to refrigerate bulbs for several weeks before planting. One silly memory was that once Dad had thought they were chestnuts and was going to eat them.

Dad gathered me back into his arms. “Gee, this boy is a little besotted. He’s choosing flowers for you, playing tennis, switching your classes. I’d say he’s got it bad.”

“Wait, what?” I pushed back from his embrace. “What about switching classes?”

“Photography,” Dad said breezily. “He talked to the counselor about that.”

“I thought you did,” I said with a deepening frown. Knowing that Max had made it happen was initially a teeny bit disconcerting, but it was also overwhelming—Max had done that for me a week ago when I was barely talking to him! My heart flipped and did a little dance.

“Ah, are you blushing, Tay?” Dad poked me.

“No!” I barked back. “I’ve been playing tennis. It was hot work, you know!”

Dad’s eyebrows flitted up and down in a playful manner, and I squealed when he picked me up and swung me around and kissed the top of my head.

––––––––

“Is this cool enough?” Dad stood in front of the mirror, patting his hair and zipping up his black puffer jacket.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s probably last year’s fashion,” I teased, referring to the jacket.

“Are you ready to go?” Admittedly, I was the one holding us up.

After school I’d gone to the Club to hit with the ball machine, mainly because I’d wanted to wash and dry and straighten my hair with their amazing hair dryer, so that I could have fabulous hair for the game.

As it happened, Alize was waiting for a coaching session, so I asked if she wanted to hit with me until Coach Clay was ready. Alize’s crafty dropshots always kept me on my toes. Afterward she invited me for dinner again, but I told her about the Chargers’ first football game of the season.

“What about the Quiz Night?” she asked. “Will you join me for that?” It was part of Covington Prep’s Homecoming Week activities, a Glam Movie Quiz fundraiser, but the price of a table was slightly outrageous. Before I could decline, she said, “I’ve taken a table, so I need some guests to fill it. I’d love it if you and your father could join me.”

“I’ll ask him,” I said, almost certain Dad would say no, which would be a good thing because I didn’t have anything in my wardrobe that qualified as glamorous.

I hadn’t asked him yet, because I was too busy fussing over my face. In my attempt to apply mascara, I’d almost poked myself in the eye, and I was now my natural, makeup-free self, as per usual. I might have amazing racquet skills, but they did not transfer to putting on makeup.

At least my hair was sleek and straight like never before, and a spray of perfume made me feel special. I hoped Max would find I was, too.

I actually think Dad was as nervous as me when we arrived at the school grounds. It was impossible not to be affected by the display of new and expensive cars in the parking lot. Spotting Max’s truck calmed us both down, and Dad parked as close as he could to it, three cars along.

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