Almost Identical #1 Read Free Page B

the red beach umbrellas of the club fluttering in the ocean breeze. On the first court, four members were playing doubles— older women with floppy hats and even floppier upper arms. On the second court, Charlie was practicing her serve, and Dad was calling out instructions.
    â€œToss the ball higher, Charlie. Raise your point of contact. Don’t overpower it—go for accuracy!”
    When Charlie saw me, she stopped serving and came running over. She gave me a hug, her hot cheek pressing against my cool one. I immediately felt guilty that she was out there working so hard and I was the slacker, as usual.
    â€œIs he mad that I’m late?” I whispered.
    â€œI told him you had to put new shoelaces in.”
    â€œHow’d you come up with that?”
    â€œI don’t know. Sometimes I amaze myself.” Charlie giggled.
    I love my sister. She’s always there for me when I screw up. Of course, I’m there for her, too, but she doesn’t screw up nearly as often as I do, that’s for sure.
    â€œGet your game face on,” she whispered as Dad came jogging up to us. “He’s very hyped-up about the tournament.”
    â€œHow’re the new shoelaces?” my dad asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his wristband.
    â€œSo much better, Dad. Those old ones were . . .” I hesitated and looked over at Charlie, not knowing what she had told him.
    â€œReally ratty,” she chimed in, moving her body in front of mine so my shoelaces weren’t visible.
    â€œAnd full of cantaloupe juice,” I added for an authentic touch.
    â€œGlad you changed them,” he said. “You want to look your best for the tournament tomorrow. You do remember you girls are playing in a tournament tomorrow, don’t you, Sammie?”
    â€œCourse I do, Dad.”
    How could I forget? The 12th Annual Sand and Surf Club Satellite Classic was the next day, and our dad had been talking about it nonstop for two weeks. It was a really important tournament, because if we won both of our matches, we’d get enough total points to qualify for a state ranking. And that was really, really important to Dad.
    Charlie and I had been ranked twenty-second in the state in the Under-12 Girls Doubles category. Not to brag or anything, but that’s pretty good. I mean, California is a big state with a lot of very competitive tennis players. But after we turned twelve, we had to move up to an older category, the Under-14, and we were still trying to accumulate enough points to get our ranking back. You get so many points for each match you win, and when you get enough, you get a ranking.
    Our dad is totally focused on our getting a ranking. He has it all planned out for us kids: Ryan is going to go to college on a volleyball scholarship, and Charlie and I are going to get tennis scholarships. At least that’s what he thinks. In our family, the purpose of sports isn’t to have fun and get exercise. It’s to win, to be the best. Our future, our education, everything depends on it.
    I know what you’re thinking. “No pressure there!” Yeah, tell me about it.
    â€œI’ll warm up Sammie,” my dad said to Charlie, “while you go hydrate.”
    Hydrate
is sports-guy talk for
get a drink of water
. I’ve learned that if you play sports seriously, you have to use the right vocab. I mean, if you say “I’m thirsty,” it just sounds like your mouth is dry. But if you say “I need some hydration,” well, that sounds like you’re ready to compete in the Olympics.
    Charlie went in the kitchen, and my dad started hitting with me, yelling at me to move my feet, to lunge for the ball, to quicken my reaction time. He was right, of course, but what did he want from me? I mean, like five minutes before I had been sound asleep. You don’t just wake up and start lunging for the ball. At least
I
don’t.
    When Charlie came back