Girl Against the Universe (18 page)

I win the second set six games to four. Looking around, I'm surprised to see that everyone except our third doubles team has finished playing. We have two wins and three losses. Third doubles is up in the third set, but I have to win or it doesn't matter.

“Don't get psyched out,” Jordy tells me during the break between sets. “The tide has turned in your favor. You've got the momentum.”

“Momentum,” I repeat, liking the way the word sounds in my mouth. Jordy rests his hand against the chain-link fence, two of his fingers curling through one of the diamond-shaped holes.

I reach up to touch his hand with my own. “But what if I lose?”

He chuckles. “Then you lose. And you get her next time.”

My chest tightens, and I'm suddenly conscious of the muscle fibers twitching in my legs. I'm conscious of everything—the soft jingling of the fence as one of our doubles players hits a ball against it in frustration; the murmuring of the rest of the team, who are now all in the first row of the bleachers; a single drip of sweat making its way down the back of my neck. I have never wanted to hug Jordy as much as I do now. I lean forward and rest my forehead against the metal for a moment, my fingers squeezing his. Then I look up at him again. “Thank you,” I say. “That's exactly what I needed to hear.”

“You're welcome. Now go get her.”

I jog back to my place on the baseline with renewed energy. I dance back and forth, head up, shoulders back. I can do this. I know it.

Naima serves a ball into the net. I take a couple of large steps into the court. Ready. Waiting. She serves a second ball into the net, and I cross to the left side of the court. This time she hits a solid serve and I have to lunge to return it. We rally back and forth, both of us covering the entire court.

Eventually Naima hits the ball into the net, and I win the point.

And then the next point.

It takes a while, but I win the game.

I'm up 5–4 and 40–15 when I approach the net on a soft-service return. Naima goes for a passing shot instead of one of her trademark lobs. I leap for it, watching the ball all the way to my strings. It ricochets off my racquet and lands just barely on the other side of the net. There's no way Naima can get to it before the ball bounces twice.

I win the match.

We beat Dustin.

Clapping erupts from outside the fence. I turn to see not just Jordy and Coach but the entire team lined up behind my court. Even Kimber is clapping.

Coach shakes hands with the Dustin coach. Jordy finds me after the rest of my teammates finish congratulating me. He scoops me up into a hug and lifts me off the ground, spinning me in a slow circle. Then he sets me back down and kisses me. A couple of the girls hoot and holler.

“Jordy,” I murmur between kisses. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” he says. “And I don't care who sees.”

Coach clears his throat. “All right, you two. This is a school-sanctioned event, remember?” He gives us a meaningful look and then wanders off with his clipboard.

“Coach said you had someplace to go right after the match.” Jordy lowers his voice. “Do you need a ride?”

Before I can answer, Colleen wedges her body between us. “Oh no you don't, Lover Boy,” she says. “The MVP is coming with us.”

“Right.” Kimber loops her arm around my shoulders like we're best pals. “Party at my house.”

I look around at the other girls, some of whom are still hugging and high-fiving each other. I can't believe no one is making a big deal out of Jordy kissing me. I can't believe they called me the MVP. For the first time in a long time, I feel like part of something. I shake my head. “There's nowhere else I need to be.”

The bus ride back to school is its own kind of surreal. I take my same seat and pop in my earbuds, planning to keep watch out the window and be ready in case of an accident, but Kimber and the rest of the team have other ideas.

First I'm forced to pose for several selfies with Kimber and Jade, which are immediately put online with captions like “Maguire for the win!” Then it turns out that Kimber and Colleen recorded some of my weak points during my third set, which they insist on replaying for me so they can give me tips.

“See how your body is sort of facing the net when you start your backswing here?” Colleen shows me a slow-motion clip. “Try and remember to get yourself sideways, even for an overhead.”

“Got it,” I say, nodding to her. “I'll try to remember that.”

“You did all right, though,” Kimber says. “I didn't think
you had it in you to come back after you lost the first set. You should be proud.”

“Thanks.” I'm pretty sure “all right” is high praise coming from Kimber. Maybe Jordy was right and she never had an issue with me. Maybe it was always all about tennis for her.

Jordy is waiting for us back at school. “I was going to offer to give you a ride home, because of your tire,” he says.

Penn hops off the bus behind me. “I can put her spare on. She's not going home, remember? We're all going over to Kimber's house. Impromptu celebration.” She glances back at Kimber and Colleen. “I'm not sure if boys are allowed.”

Kimber strolls over. “No boys, but he can come because he doesn't really count.” She reaches up and ruffles his hair. “Not to me anyway.”

“You guys go.” Jordy tosses his keys to Penn. “I'll put Maguire's spare on and drive her car over to Kimber's.”

Penn bounces up and down on the balls of her feet. “Holy crap. You're going to let me drive Mitzi?”

“If Maguire is okay with that,” he says. “Otherwise maybe let her drive?”

“I have no desire to drive Mitzi,” I say. “But what if we get pulled over?”

“I got my provisional license last week,” Penn says breezily. “I'll tell them I'm driving other people under the medical-necessity exception. One of you will just have to look extra sick.”

“On it!” Jade doubles over and clutches her stomach. “We didn't want to break the law, officer,” she says in a thick Southern accent. “But I do declare, I'm feeling quite under the weather.”

They both burst into giggles. I roll my eyes at Jade and turn back to Jordy. “I think I can trust her to go a couple of miles, but I can call my mom about the tire. It's not your job to fix it.”

“I don't mind,” he says. “It won't take me that long.”

Penn looks suspiciously at her brother. “You sure you won't drop her car on your foot? I don't want Mom and Dad to blame me if you do.”

“Just go.” He takes my keys. “Have fun. I'll see you in a bit.”

I watch the road and the mirrors as Penn drives Jordy's car back to their house. Jade sits in the backseat, shaking out her hair and using her phone's reverse camera as a mirror to apply eyeliner.

“Why are you putting on makeup?” I ask.

“No reason,” Jade says. “No reason at all.”

Penn glances in the rearview mirror. “You got a thing for Kimber's brother or something?”

“Kimber has a brother?” Jade asks innocently.

“Darius,” Penn says. “Freshman at San Diego State.”

“Darius. Hmm. I think he might have been in my French class last year.” Jade puts the eyeliner away and pulls
out a lipstick. “Is he single?”

“No idea.” Penn pulls Jordy's car up onto their driveway. “See. Safe and sound.”

It feels like another accomplishment, one I didn't even have on my challenge list. I can barely believe that I've gone from not feeling safe in the car with my stepdad to riding with a brand-new driver. And now I'm headed to a party.

The three of us get out and walk up the street to Kimber's. On the way, I think about Ireland. I can almost see myself in an aisle seat, watching attentively while the flight attendants go through the safety precautions.

Music blares from inside Kimber's house. I knock gently on the door and then, when no one answers, a bit more firmly. After a few seconds, Colleen opens the door, a red plastic cup clutched in one hand.

“Ladies! Welcome.” She gives each of us an entirely too-friendly hug. I can smell alcohol on her breath.

Kimber's living room is arranged similarly to Jordy's, with a pair of leather sofas flanking a big screen TV, a brick fireplace adorned with tennis trophies off to the side. “Everyone is outside,” Colleen says. “Come on.”

I do a quick check of the living room—there's no fire in the fireplace, no electrical cords stretched across any walkways, no obvious hazards that I can see. So far, so good.

Jade tugs me toward the sliding glass door that leads out onto the deck.

Kimber, Mae, and the rest of the doubles players are
seated at a big round patio table. Behind them, the sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the grassy lawn. A giant tree takes up one corner of the yard, a tree house perched in its major branches. I try to reconcile Kimber with being the kind of kid who hung out in a tree house, but I can't. I slide into an open seat across from her and next to Penn.

“I ordered pizza,” Kimber says. “Meat and vegetarian. It should be here in twenty.”

“Cool,” Jade says. “I am starving. And thirsty.”

There's a stack of red cups and a pitcher of what looks like limeade but smells like alcohol in the center of the table. Penn and Jade each pour themselves a drink. Jade grabs a cup for me, but I shake my head.

“I don't drink.”

“Aww. Something else you two have in common.” Colleen nudges Kimber, who gives her a glare.

“There's bottled water and soda in the fridge,” Kimber says. “I'd get it for you but . . .” She gestures to her left and right. “I'm a little trapped back here.”

“No problem. I'll grab it.” I glance around the table. “Anyone else need anything while I'm up?”

“I'll take another sparkling water.” Kimber pulls the ponytail holder from her hair and shakes out her dark brown tresses.

I head back inside and screech to a stop when I see that the kitchen is full of boys. Three boys, to be exact, all in jeans and T-shirts. They look a little bit older than me. They're all
clustered around the fridge.

The tallest of the three turns around. He's got the same dark skin and piercing gaze as Kimber. “Who might you be?” he asks.

“Hi. I'm Maguire. I'm a friend of, I mean, I play tennis with Kimber.”

One of the other boys laughs. “I love how no one actually describes themselves as your sister's friend.”

“She doesn't have friends,” the tall boy says. “She's got opponents. Maybe a few assistants on a good day.” He winks at me. “I'm Darius. And this is Shawn and Kyle. Please tell me you guys ordered food. Everything in the fridge is labeled low fat or low sodium.”

“That's child abuse,” I say.

“Right?” Darius grins. “A growing boy needs his fat and sodium.”

“Your sister said something about pizza.”

“Excellent,” Darius says. “You guys chilling out on the deck?”

“Yeah.”

The boys head for the door, and I start to follow them. Then I realize I forgot the water, so I double back to grab a couple of bottles.

By the time I get back outside, my original seat is taken, and I end up sitting next to Shawn. The boys chat about stuff going on at college while Kimber talks about our upcoming matches. I mostly nod and smile, trying to keep track of both
conversations but not really engaging in either. My eyes scan the table, the deck, and the yard at regular intervals. Eventually, somebody suggests playing a drinking game. Darius heads back inside to find some cards, and I slide out of my chair and walk to the far end of the deck. I pull the ponytail holder out of my hair and rub my scalp with my fingertips. Leaning my arms on the wooden railing, I close my eyes and let the cool breeze wash over my skin.

“Hey,” a deep voice says.

I open my eyes. Shawn is standing next to me, and I get a good look at him for the first time. He's broad-chested, with short, rusty-colored hair and bright green eyes. When he smiles, I notice that one of his front teeth is a little crooked. It's the kind of flaw that would bother me if it were mine, but somehow it works with the rest of his looks. “I brought you a drink,” he says. He has the faintest hint of a Southern accent. He holds out a red plastic cup.

“I don't drink,” I say. “But thanks.”

Shawn puts the cup on the railing between us. “How come I've never seen you around before, Maguire?”

“I just moved to Pacific Point this summer.”

“Ah. I graduated last year. I used to play on the boys' team. And also the junior tour. Kimber and I went to a lot of the same events.”

“So you probably know Jordy too, then,” I say.

“I do.” Shawn hops up on the railing and sits facing me. “Are you one of his many female fans?”

My cheeks redden. I have no idea how to respond to that. “He helped me with my serve,” I say finally. I stare down at the backyard. Shawn seems completely stable, but if he fell backward he'd fall about fifteen feet. “You're making me nervous sitting up there.”

“Aww. Worried about me? That's cute.” He hops down and leans against the railing. “So how do you like it here?”

“It's not bad.”

He bumps his forearm against mine. Next to his sun-kissed skin I look like I'm made of vanilla ice cream. “I'm guessing you spend all your free time at the beach?”

I smile. “Not really.”

“How are you enjoying being part of the team?”

“I'm having fun, but I'm not doing so great. Right now my record is fifty-fifty.”

“It's a tough district. No shame in fifty-fifty. Maybe we could hit around sometime, if you want?”

“Oh.” Once again I am completely caught off guard. “I don't think I'd be much competition for you.”

He shrugs. “You never know till you try. Either way, one of the best ways to improve your game is to hit with someone at a higher level.”

He's basically repeating things Jordy has said to me. I can't tell if he's flirting or honestly just interested in helping me with my tennis game.

“Give me your phone,” he says.

“What?”

“Give. Me. Your. Phone,” he repeats, as if maybe I'm a little slow.

I can't figure out how to refuse him, so I fumble in my pocket for my phone and hand it over. As Shawn accesses my contacts menu, someone knocks on the front door.
Saved by the pizza
, I think.

But it's not the pizza.

Shawn glances up as Jordy strolls out onto the back deck. “Hey man, what's up?”

“Not much,” Jordy says. “How's college treating you?”

“Not too bad,” Shawn says. “You know where you're going to go?”

“I don't even know
if
I'm going to go . . .” Jordy trails off. He's staring at the phone in Shawn's hand. My phone.

“Shawn!” Darius hollers from the other side of the deck. “I found the cards. You in or what?”

“I have to go school some people,” Shawn says, handing my phone back to me. “But it was nice meeting you, Maguire.”

“Yeah. You too,” I say. Glancing down, I see that Shawn has added himself to my embarrassingly small contacts menu as “Shawn Kane—the hot guy you met at Kimber's house.”

He crosses the deck, stopping halfway to turn around and mouth “call me.” Then he slides into a chair next to Darius.

Jordy pulls my car keys from his pocket. He sets them
on the wooden railing of the deck, his jaw going tight. “Did Shawn Kane just tell you to call him?”

“Yeah,” I say. “He offered to practice with me.”

“Oh. Your car is parked across the street from my house.” Jordy slides my keys toward me, but he doesn't say anything else.

I lower my voice so no one else can hear. “I'm not going to. But he seemed nice and I didn't know what to tell him.”

Jordy gestures at my untouched drink. “What are you drinking?”

“I think it's a margarita or something. I'm not drinking it, though. I don't drink.”

“Can I drink it?”

“Sure.”

Jordy takes a long drink from the plastic cup. Looking straight ahead, he says, “I mean, you can call him if you want. He's a decent guy, and a solid tennis player too.”

“Is he better than you?” I ask curiously.

“Not at tennis.” Jordy swishes the remaining liquid around in his cup. “I've beat him all three times we played each other.”

I nudge him in the ribs. “Not at tennis? What's
that
supposed to mean?”

He looks down at me, the flecks of gold in his brown eyes evident in the soft glow of the fading daylight. “It means this is harder than I thought.”

“What is?”

He lowers his voice. “Sharing you.” Before I can reply he continues, “I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to come to this party. I want you to get over your fear of being around other people, but man, I hate watching other guys hit on you.”

“I don't think he was hitting on me,” I protest.

Jordy snorts. “Come on, Maguire. We both know that he was.”

“Jordy,” I say softly. I reach out and touch his arm.

He turns to face me. “Do you want to go for a walk? I need some air.”

We both know that there's no more air on the sidewalk than there is on Kimber's deck, but I nod at him. “Let me just tell Jade where I'm going.” I look over at the round table, but she's not there. She must be in the bathroom or something.

Jordy drains the rest of the drink from the red plastic cup while I send Jade a text and tell her I'll be back in an hour. He leaves the empty cup on the deck and heads for the sliding glass door. We cut back through Kimber's house.