Kate Christie Read Free Page B

same was true for Jess.
    “Some people are just naturally shy, Laura,” Holly said.
    I could hear the slight annoyance in her voice and elbowed her, glad I was sitting in the middle. Holly had a lower tolerance for Laura than I did.
    “I guess so,” Laura conceded, but it was obvious she didn’t understand why anyone might be anything but bordering on obnoxious.
    “Great day for tennis,” I put in, changing the subject.
    Holly rolled her eyes at me, and I knew what she was thinking: 20 Kate Christie
    Cam the Peacemaker . She seemed to think the nickname was an insult.
    Directly below us, Jess was practicing her serves, but she seemed distracted. She kept glancing toward the opposite corner of the court. Curious, I followed her gaze and spotted an older woman sporting a wide white hat, small sunglasses and a tan suit. Her gold jewelry glinted in the sunlight. She was standing just inside the passageway that connected the stadium’s handful of courts, almost as if she were trying not to be seen.
    “Do you think Jess’ll make All-American?” Holly asked, watching her serve.
    “I hope so,” I said. “She totally deserves it.”
    Later, I thought we might have jinxed her. Jess was on a twenty-two match winning streak, but she lost the first set 2-6.
    The girl she was playing, a tanned brunette with short hair and big quad muscles, wasn’t even that skilled. Jess double-faulted two games away in the opening set. This time she didn’t throw her racquet.
    At the end of the first set, when the players took a break before switching sides, Holly leaned into my shoulder and murmured,
    “Dude, what’s her problem? She’s playing like crap.”
    “No kidding.”
    Sitting on a bench at the edge of the court during the switchover, Jess looked exhausted. It had to be mental, I knew, because she was in top physical condition. She just wasn’t her usual zippy self. She wiped her face on a small towel, then looked again toward the opposite corner. I followed her gaze.
    The woman in the suit had disappeared. Jess sat motionless for another minute, towel draped over her face. Then she flung it aside and headed onto the court.
    The second set was like an entirely different match. From the first point, Jess was all over the place, rippling muscles and extra effort and long-limbed reach. She finished the match 2-6, 6-1, 6-2. Afterward, she shook hands with her vanquished opponent and the umpire, exchanged a few words with Adrienne Porter, the head coach, and almost ran off court to the field house. I watched her leave, her head down, long legs eating up the distance.

    Beautiful Game 21
    “She’s not shy,” Laura said, watching Jess leave. “She’s totally got attitude. What a snob.”
    “Shut up,” I said, and it was Holly’s turn to elbow me in the ribs. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    Laura was staring at me. “Okay, I’m sorry. Take a chill.”
    As we watched the top-seeded doubles match, I pondered my outburst. Usually Laura’s comments rolled right off me. But when she called Jess a snob, it pissed me off even though I’d once thought nearly the same thing myself. Now that I’d met her, I knew my initial assessment was off. There was something about the way she held herself apart from other people that made me want to defend her. Which was ridiculous, I told myself as I sat in the tennis stadium that afternoon. Jess was probably the last person on campus who needed defending.
    As expected, SDU won the match easily. In women’s sports, tennis was our strongest program. Then came soccer, volleyball, and swimming. The rest were mostly club teams still, even after two decades of Title IX. When the match ended, we headed back to the gym lot where Laura had parked her brand-new Isuzu Trooper.
    “I’m going to pee,” I said as we reached the car. “I’ll be right back.”
    “Can’t you even wait five minutes?” Holly complained.
    “We’re starving here, man.”
    “I’ve been holding it