Like Jazz Read Free Page B

Which of you doesn’t have a partner?”
    Slowly, desperately hoping Wilcox would somehow miss it, I raised my hand.
    “Miss Perkins, you and Miss Warner are a team.”
    “But Mr. Wilcox, why can’t I work with Kip and Kevin?”
    “Because, Miss Perkins, we’re working in pairs. You’re with Miss Warner. Please sit down while I go over the details of the project.”
    Without turning her head, Sarah moved her eyes to me with such a look of annoyance it was as if she were trying to bore a hole through my skull. Keeping her eyes on me, she went to one of the few remaining open desks and sat perfectly erect before turning to Wilcox.
    After class, as I gathered my belongings, some of Sarah’s friends surrounded her desk and offered condolences on her fate. Remarks like “not fair” and “totally uncool” and “sucks” filled the air as I made my way out the door.
    Certain that the pairing would yield us both as much happiness as Othello’s marriage, I couldn’t help but be amused. It was a first. The perennial new girl, I was used to being matched up with the dregs of the class, the least intelligent students whose “project” grade would rely solely upon my efforts. Now I was partnered with perhaps the brightest of my classmates who was already out to best me. Let her try.
     
    *
     
    Because Claiborne comprised nearly six hundred students, I had only two classes with Sarah: AP English and AP Earth Science. After sixth period at the beginning of my second week, we had tryouts for the tennis team. My parents both worked, so I spent a lot of time playing sports. Staying late at school made it easier to get home and gave me more time to study, since my mom could pick me up after work. My usuals were tennis, basketball, and softball. I wasn’t a star player, but I was respectable because of my good hand-eye coordination, speed, and scrappiness. Sports allowed me to let off some of the steam that built up from our moving around so much, never being able to put down roots or get close to people.
    About twenty-five girls in tennis skirts stood around a short redhead who identified herself as the coach. She referred to a clipboard and called out names, each girl responding with “here” or “yep.” We were on the fifth of twelve tennis courts, the first four being occupied by other girls, six playing singles and four playing doubles. As the coach described the drills we’d be starting with, I glanced over at the occupied courts and stopped short when I saw Sarah Perkins pound a forehand crosscourt winner against her opponent. She turned around and strode to the baseline.
    Her short cream skirt and ankle socks showed off her long, tan legs, and her matching sleeveless V-neck tennis shirt with light-yellow stripes accentuated her collarbone and lean, sun-kissed arms. Like me, she wore her hair in a ponytail that came down to her shoulders. A silver necklace held a charm or medallion that dipped toward the lower V in her V-neck, luring my eyes to her chest. For the first time that day, I noticed when I swallowed. She was stunning. Athletic, too.
    With her left hand, she bounced the ball in front of her four times, held it close to her racket, tossed it into the air, sprang up and forward with her body, and struck it hard with her racket. Her motion was at once powerful, yet fluid. The kick serve hit just inside the line and spun out wide off the court. Her opponent couldn’t get a racket on it. Ace.
    With effort, I turned back to the coach, who was finishing explaining that seven of the girls on courts one through four were already on the team since they were on varsity previously. The others were the prior year’s top JV players. From last year’s team, only two students—two seniors—had graduated. There were only a couple spots left on varsity, and although JV was wide open, many of us wouldn’t make either team. Once we worked on drills, those of us the coach thought had varsity potential would be pitted