Page 79 of Love, Amy

The Tennis Girlies groupchat, aptly named by Fernanda, has also been blowing up all morning.

Margot:

My money’s on Amy. I think she really did want to punch Fernanda during that mixed doubles match.

Lina:

I’m for the one that has an Italian boyfriend. Oh, wait... can’t they do anything without copying each other?

Anika:

I have to go with Fernanda. Now that I’ve beaten Amy, I know all her weaknesses.

Ofelia:

Didn’t you beat her in mixed doubles? Aren’t you like 0-5 against her in singles?

I snicker at Ofelia’s response, and at Anika’s simple retort, a middle finger emoji. Vince eyes me, motioning for me to continue my stretching routine. “I’m reading and working!” I show him my phone. “It’s relaxing!” He rolls his eyes but lets me be.

Fernanda chimes in, queenly as usual.

Fernanda:

Gambling is immoral, ladies. You’re distracting us.

There’s a pause, and then she says:

Fernanda:

I’d bet on me, too, though.

I grin, fingers already flying across the keyboard. I can’t let Fernanda have the last word.

Amy:

I have a feeling there’ll be a new champion tonight. Fernanda hasn’t beaten me on a hard court yet.

It’s true. She might have the edge on clay, or even the unpredictable grass, but hard court is my domain. It’s a power hitter’s dream. The group chat erupts into chaos, all the girls talking trash and taking sides. Just as I’m about to put my phone away, one more message comes through, outside the group chat.

Fernanda:

You’ll forgive me, right? If I win?

The fact that she’s asking, that she’s even thinking about it at all, shows her worry. Last time she beat me at a Grand Slam final, I didn’t talk to her for two weeks. I can’t do that again. She’s done so much for me, the least I can do is reassure her that I won’t be a major dick if I lose.

And, really, I don’t think I will.

Amy:

If you do the same for me.

Fernanda:

Deal.

All the texts provide a nice distraction for a day that seems to be moving slowly. Fernanda and I are set to play at 7 p.m., after the men this afternoon. They changed the schedule, putting our match last due to high interest. It’s a nice change for the women to be the grand finale rather than the men. However, it means I’m vibrating with energy all day, trying to stick to my routine so I don’t release all my adrenaline too soon.

Barbara walks into the gym as I finish my warm-up, looking at her watch. “It’s almost time,” she says. “How are you feeling?”