Confidence flowed through Indy’s veins. Her serve felt good for the first time all match, and she was ready to unleash it. She rocked forward and then back, her body coiling powerfully as her racket swung down and then up, whistling through the air, and she launched the ball as hard as she could. A split second later, the ball ricocheted off the wall behind Jasmine.
“Come on!” Indy shouted, pumping her fist and then looking up into the crowd. They responded, the noise growing to a roar. Her adrenaline spiked and she drew energy off them, despite the heat and the mountain she still had to climb. She was almost there.
“Game, Gaffney.”
Tied. They were tied. Indy had never played a match this tough in her life. Jasmine was the best player she’d ever faced: poised, polished, and an absolute defensive demon,all-out effort all the time. But once Indy’d gotten over her nerves, they matched up pretty well. So well that she managed to eke out a one-game victory in the second set, and now… now they were even, two sets all and locked together in a third-set tiebreak, five points each, both of them two points from the championship.
One way or another, it was almost over.
And thank God, because she was fucking exhausted.
The crowd rose to their feet, giving them a standing ovation, showing their appreciation for such a hard-fought match, regardless of who won or lost.
Indy moved to the other side of the court. She checked the match clock in the corner: 2 hr 45 min. Definitely not pathetic; more than respectable, bordering on epic. There were no announcers, no TV crew in a box high above the court analyzing the match, but she could hear their voices in her head talking about how her power serve was a major advantage in a tiebreak, but that Jasmine’s better conditioning might cancel it out.
Blissfully, cloud cover and a soft breeze swept in off the water. The cooler air was a relief against her skin after nearly three hours baking under the sun. Indy looked at the sky. A few more minutes, she pleaded with the clouds. She needed a few more minutes of shade. She couldn’t last much longer; it was time to take a risk, go for a line and hope it landed in.
Jasmine was preparing to serve. It was the weakest part of her game, and the longer the match went on, the weaker it got. Indy was ready to expose that weakness one more time.Jasmine leaned back, then pushed up and out, the ball hitting her racket with a softthwack.
The serve was slow and flat, bouncing up at the perfect height for Indy’s forehand. She stepped into the shot and rifled a winner up the line.
The crowd erupted, people leaping to their feet, screaming and cheering, applauding like crazy, but they weren’t done yet.
“Gaffney leads the tiebreaker six points to five. Championship point.”
Indy tried to ignore the wall of sound crashing down onto the court; it was almost as oppressive as the heat.
Match point.
“Thank you, players are ready,” the chair umpire said. “Thank you.” The crowd quieted, though not entirely, the energy still reverberating through the court, waiting to ignite again.
In a tiebreak, the players alternate serves, and it was Indy’s turn. She had enough energy in her tank for one more. It was time to end this. She took her time, making sure her rhythm was perfect. Her muscles bunched and then she snapped up and through the air, sending a low-lying missile across the court. Then, with a final burst of energy, she sprinted forward, meeting Jasmine’s return with a sharp-swinging volley. The ball hit the blue hard court just inside the line. Jasmine’s sneakers squeaked against the ground as she raced forward to get to the ball, but before she could reach it, it bounced again.
“Game, set, and match, Gaffney.”
She did it. She won, and that was her last coherent thoughtbefore she collapsed to the ground in exhausted, victorious sobs.
Indy sat on the trainer’s table in the center of the room, trying to slow everything down, but her head was still spinning. Showered and dressed, she was ready for the party at Deuce about to be held in her honor. She had brought a dress with her just in case, along with a pair of sweats and a T-shirt she would have worn back to the dorms had she lost.
It was all a blur after that last point. She remembered shaking hands with Jasmine and the chair umpire, then moving back onto the court and applauding the crowd, clapping her racket against the heel of her hand, thanking them for their support. Dom brought the trophy out to her, congratulating her on the win, and he hadn’t seemed all that surprised at the result. Then she floated back to the locker room holding the trophy tightly to her chest.
She won. It was one thing to wish it or to imagine it, but it was totally different to have done it. She beat Jasmine Randazzo and a handful of the best young players in the world. That made her one of the best, right? No, that made herthebest. This was everything she and her mom had dreamed about, and now it was real. A prickling of tears edged out of the corners of her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she let them fall.
“You’re going to freak everyone out if you show up at the party still hysterical crying,” Penny said from the doorway.
Indy wiped at her eyes quickly. “Sorry, it’s a lot to take in.”
Penny pulled a tissue from the container on the trainer’s table and held it out for her. “Don’t try. You might hurt yourself. After all, you are pretty thickheaded. It took you an entire set before you figured out you had to go serve and volley.”
Indy took the tissue, dabbing under her eyes, and laughed. “You coming to the party?”
“Uh, no, sorry. Tonight’s about you.”
“It’s okay. I get it,” Indy said, standing up and smoothing down the skirt of her dress. If Penny went to the party, she’d be a distraction to the sponsors and media.
“Anyway, I just wanted to be the first to congratulate you,” she said, opening her arms, and Indy fell into the hug gratefully. “You should get up to Deuce. Everyone’s waiting for you.” She stepped away and turned to leave but paused at the door. “Oh and, Indy? Good luck.”
“What do you mean?”
