I checked behind me to make sure she was talking to me. “Uh, yeah, but I’m waiting for my partner—”
“No need to wait,” the older man said. “Come play with us.”
“Oh, I’m just a beginner. You guys are really good.”
The tan woman made a frustrated noise since they’d lost.
“We wereallbeginners at one point,” he replied. “The only way to get better is to get better, and that won’t happen with you out there, fence hugging. C’mon in.”
I swallowed hard. “Are you sure? I’m a total novice. This would be my first real game.”
The tan team groaned in unison.
“Maybe we should wait?” Tan Man said. “I don’t have the energy to educate her. Sorry.”
I bristled a little. I didn’t want his education; I’d had plenty with Owen, as well as the dozens of YouTube tutorials I watched when I couldn’t manufacture any cowboy words.
What Iwantedwas my lucky charm. Where the hell was Owen? I checked my phone but there were no new messages.
“Definitely a beginner—look at her paddle.” The woman laughed.
Okay, point taken. But still, she didn’t have to be so damn judgy. At least my outfit was cute. I’d found a black set on clearance—ruffled skort and sleeveless tank—that made me look like I knew what I was doing. Owen always talked about the sense of community in the game, but I sure wasn’t getting it at the Jimmie McDaniel formerly-tennis-but-now-pickleball courts.
But I wasn’t about to let them know they were rattling me.
“You know what? I’ll play,” I said in an overloud voice to make sure they all heard me.
“Atta girl,” the older man said. “Get in here.”
The blonde winked at me as she passed me on the way out. “Howard’s a doll. You’re going to do great—don’t worry.”
I glanced toward the street, looking for a familiar, loping form, but Owen was nowhere in sight.
“Hi, everyone, I’m Brooke,” I said with a wave as I walked in.
“Howard.” My new partner did a half bow. He reached out his paddle to tap mine, and when I got close to him, I saw that his navy hat said “Professor Pickleball” in embroidered lettering. “The whiny fellow over there is Mark, and that’s his wife, Theresa.”
They both grumbled in my general direction.
“They’re angry because this old man keeps them on their toes,” Howard said. He pointed to his leg and I spotted a knee brace. “I might not be the fastest one out here, but I do okay.”
“Let’s get this going,” Theresa said. “What’s your rating, by the way?”
She glared at me from under the brim of her pink Joola visor.
“Uh, I’m not sure, but my coach should be here any minute and he’ll know. Maybe, like, I don’t know, a two?”
Mark stalked closer to the net. “You have acoach? Yeah, you’re better than a two. Let’s go; switch sides.”
Howard tossed the ball to me as we walked to the far side of the court, which was thankfully shady. I was already sweating from nerves.
“Your serve.”
I managed to catch it. “Me? Why?”
He pointed to the court numbers on the chain-link fence behind us. “Number side always starts, and you’re on the right side of the court, so... off you go.”
I’d envisioned some sort of fanfare before my first serve because it was a momentous occasion, but to the rest of the group, it was just another Thursday. Maybe it was better that the game was unremarkable? Less pressure. And without Owen there, the only person I had to worry about was Howard.
