Page 6 of The Tomboy

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Idressed in my PEuniform, a maroon and yellow striped t-shirt and black shorts, presuming it was a requirement in the school gym, too. I winced at having to wear it again for tennis practice, but I’d packed my toiletries so I could shower afterward.

Never one to be late, I arrived at school with ten minutes to spare. Dashing across the parking lot with two bags in tow, I made my way past the gymnasium to the weights room. Covington Prep’s gym was impressive. Having only ever worked on a strength program at home with Mom, I looked forward to using all the fancy machines and maybe getting to know Bianca. If she was the tennis captain, she had to be a quality player and my research had shown she’d had good results the previous season.

I swiped my student card to get into the gym, and I was surprised to see I was the first girl there. A couple of boys were running on treadmills, but they didn’t appear to hear me come in.

Not wanting to sit around and wait, I jumped on a bike to warm up, constantly checking the wall clock. At 6:28, it concerned me that Bianca hadn’t arrived yet.

A minute later, there was a bustle at the doors and I relaxed, only to turn around and see a crowd of boys barging in, accompanied by loud voices and laughter. Which stopped abruptly when they saw me. Yes, all eyes were focused on me.

A man in a Covington polo shirt and cap stood in front of me, flanked by a mob of teenage boys in workout gear.

“What are you doing here?” There was no subtlety to Coach Mercer, whose name was embroidered on his shirt. “Who are you?”

I hopped off the bike in a hurry. “Uh. Taylor Frank,” I said, my heart beating at pace from the curious looks I was getting. “Uh, I’m with the girls tennis team.”

Coach Mercer showed no mercy. “This is varsity football training time,” he boomed, waving his hand at the team, “not girls tennis.”

Chuckles resounded around the room, making my cheeks burn. “Uh, Bianca said to meet here at six thirty,” I said, looking at my watch for some kind of confirmation.

“Well, she told you wrong,” Coach Mercer said, his outstretched arm pointing to the door.

“Yes Coach, sorry Coach,” I mumbled, clarity hitting me smack in the face: Bianca Holbrun had purposely set me up!

I snatched up my bags and stumbled out of the room, my ears ringing from the peals of laughter, my heart continuing to race as I looked for somewhere to wallow in self-pity. The empty athletic track called to me. Throwing my bags on the grass, my anger was directed only at myself. Bianca Holbrun had played me for a fool. Yeah, for a moment I had let my guard down. How silly was I to think there could have been gym training when Coach Stephens hadn’t mentioned it? On the schedule there was a session for Monday after school, yet I hadn’t double checked and had completely believed Bianca. Then again, why wouldn’t I? Team captain, fellow tennis player, weren’t we supposed to be allies?

I ran the first lap too fast, hoping to outrun my tears. Every stride had me thinking how ridiculous all of this was:I didn’t belong here at a prep school, I didn’t want to be here, I was a fool for thinking I could fit in.I slowed down to a walk, hands on hips as I caught my breath and sucked up my sobs.

What would Mom want me to do?That was the question I always asked myself when things got hard, when times got tough. Like the quarter final of the Junior Mid West tournament. I’d lost the first set and was down in the second.Change it up!The voice of Mom had resounded in my head as if she was standing on the sidelines,Problem solve!

So, I’d started slicing my backhand, keeping the ball low for my six foot tall opponent. Ranked higher than me, she struggled with the height and spin, over hitting the ball. I ended up winning that set, and the third in a tiebreaker. It was the best victory of my tennis career.

One thing I did know—Mom wouldn’t want me standing on the track crying. Crying didn’t fix anything. She’d want me to keep going. Resuming with a jog, I gradually increased to a comfortable pace, letting my thoughts free themselves.

Yes, for some reason Bianca had wanted to embarrass me, maybe it was nothing more than a rite of passage in a school like this, just a silly prank—humiliation in front of the football team. No big deal really. No real harm done.

Or maybe it was a genuine mistake and I was being over sensitive. Yeah, that was it. The anxiety of moving town, of starting a new school, of missing Mom—maybe it was all compounding and I was having a mini meltdown.Run it out,Mom used to say when things got me down,hit it out!

I would run now, and after school I would hit balls, a lot of balls.

And I would be fine.

“Hey!”

Deep in my own head, I hadn’t noticed anyone else, and my first thought was that I was now intruding on the track team’s territory. Gah, I couldn’t catch a break!

I stopped and turned around to see a boy running toward me. Well, not just any boy, but Max, who had been talking to Lucy at lunch yesterday. He hadn’t said a whole lot, but he did play tennis. Hoping he wasn’t going to tell me the track was off limits to the girls tennis team, I stood in defensive mode, arms folded across my chest.

He was panting lightly as he reached me, pushing up the sleeves of his top.

“Hey. Taylor, isn’t it?”

“Don’t tell me I’m not allowed to run on the track?” I snarled.

Max blinked, taken aback by my aggression. “Uh, um, no,” he stuttered. “I was just going to join you for a couple of laps, uh, if that’s okay.”

The slow rise of heat on my cheeks wasn’t from the physical exertion, but from the shame of being so rude. Not knowing how to apologize, I started to run.

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