“Everything alright?”
“Yes, everything’s fine.”
BEN
Elias is quiet during dinner, and though I know it’s a bad idea, I’m disappointed he doesn’t suggest sneaking into my room tonight. I’d be happy to even snuggle. But I know I’m hard work to sleep with. I want him to get his rest.
If we beat San Diego this evening, we will be getting up early to practice, and if we lose, we’ll be getting up early to catch a plane back to the East Coast.
One thing I’ve missed since being at college is travelling. Living in Switzerland during the school year wasn’t always a picnic, but I did like being around people of different cultures, and different languages. I meant it when I told Elias I’ve forgotten most of the Swiss French I learned in school. And that’s just sad. But I’d like to pick it up again, or another language … German, maybe? I’m looking forward to meeting new people and travelling all over the world after graduation.
There’s a part of me that imagines Elias being there.Why can’t we cross paths while we’re both on the tour? Why can’t we be together while he plays and I scout?
I put the thought out of my head before we go out to play our match against San Diego. Kingsley is nowhere to be seen. I try to gage Elias’ reaction, but he’s closed down. He’s a tennis machine now. That soft part of his personality he doesn’t let everyone see is all shuttered up behind impenetrable walls.
Even after winning the match comfortably, he seems tense. Is he disappointed that a pro coach came and left without snapping him up? I want to tell him there will be other coaches, but I don’t think he’s in the right mental space to deal with it.
25
ELIAS
I’m trying not to be too disappointed that Richard Kingsley didn’t stick around for our match against San Diego. Maybe he is still hanging around somewhere?
When my father texted last night to ask if I’d seen or spoken to him, I tried to make it sound like he hadn’t just disappeared. Like my chance was still just around the corner.
But I can’t deny the disappointment as I sit at breakfast the next morning. Everyone else is in high spirits because we’re through to the second day of the tournament and get to spend another night in Palm Springs and eat the incredible breakfast spread the hotel puts on every morning. But my stomach is in knots and it’s an effort just to shovel something down. What if this opportunity passes me by? What will I tell my father?
Ben tries to talk to me as we head out onto the practice courts. I shake him off as kindly as I can. I want to speak to him, I do, but I can’t afford to get distracted right now. I need to make sure I make the most out of this opportunity. Even ifthe best coach in the sport has left, there are other coaches here, I’m sure. Kingsley was a pipe dream, anyway.
I’ve almost convinced myself to forget about Kinglsey, but as we’re stepping out on the court to play our match, there he is. He looks slightly less relaxed today, more focused.
Ben squeezes my elbow and gives me a reassuring smile.
Our next matchis against Princeton’s biggest rival—Stanford. They knocked Arizona out of the competition yesterday with a convincing win and now we go head-to-head for the tournament final.
It’s tense as we wait. I catch Ben chewing his lip. Something instinctive in me wants to comfort him—to reassure him. But what would I say? It doesn’t matter if we lose? That’s not true. I’m not going to leave you if Kingsley asks to snap me up? He knew the deal when we started this thing. So why does it feel so terrible?
We jog out to meet Stanford at the net for the first doubles point.
We’ve checked out our opponents at Stanford intensely by now. I’ve shown Ben videos of the best players and Ben’s studied their stats. In theory, we know how to beat them.
But theory isn’t reality.
They start strong, winning their service game easily.
I look up into the stands to check that Kingsley is still there.
“Hey,” Ben says, squeezing my shoulder. “We’ve got this.”
I take a deep breath and look at him. Now the moment is here to impress a pro coach, my insides have turned to jelly. I don’t know if I can do it.
I’m wobbly on my service game. Ben manages to pick up some of the slack when my serve is easily returned.
I try to ignore the fact that my dream coach is watching right now. Try to focus on each point as it comes.
But I can’t get it together and we lose our first service game.
“Scheiße!” I raise my racket to throw it, but I catch Ben’s eye before I can bring it down on the court and the way he’s looking at me stops me dead. That disappointment and concern in his eyes kills me.Come on, Elias, pull yourself together.
