Alice settled into the theater’s seat, her shoulders relaxing. Dan was beside her. She’d been back from the “tournament that will not be named” for a week or two. Maybe three. What was time when you’d lost all direction?
She’d graduated from high school with no immediate plans.
Her tennis career might be over before it ever truly began.
And . . . she didn’t know what was next, beyond a blissful hour and a half of Marion Davies in Going Hollywood. She was more than ready to be transported to Tinseltown.
Dan shifted toward Alice. “Tell me what she said again?”
She scrunched her brows. The opening credits were still rolling.
He prompted, “The tennis champion.”
Oh. Her. That. Alice licked her lips. Heat crept into her body as she thought about the powwow she had in the stands after getting demolished on the court. Mostly because she hadn’t known who she’d been talking to, until another player told Alice after the fact.
“It was Mary K. Browne.”
Whose name Alice should have known considering the superstar had won the US Championships three times.
“And she said you could have a lot of tennis ahead of you? Yet you haven’t played in nearly a month. You’ve never gone that long without playing.”
“That sounds very judgmental.”
He shrugged. “Just getting the lay of the land, Allie. You know I’m your biggest fan, but . . .”
“But what?”
Someone shushed them, which was completely unnecessary; the film hadn’t started. Alice shot a glare at the husher and focused again on her brother.
“But you need a coach we can’t afford to keep going. You said so yourself. So if that racquet of yours is only going to collect dust in the meantime, maybe it’s time for a backup plan. I wish I had the chance to finish school.” He raised a palm when Alice opened her mouth. Not that she knew what she’d even say. An apology? He originally dropped out because of their dad’s death, not on account of her tennis aspirations. He went on, “You can continue classes though. Why don’t you apply to the University of California? Sit for the entrance exams, at least. You can try for a scholarship. It’s an easy commute, so you can live at home while you complete your education and give yourself some more time to see what you want to become.”
A tennis player.
The best tennis player in the world.
In an instant, the thoughts erupted in Alice’s head. In the next second, she was on the verge of a cold sweat in the already chilly cinema. She’d been the biggest negative Nancy about tennis since returning home, all because she wasn’t sure how she’d ever compete with those East Coast girls without a coach. Could she do it on her own? She had the drive. But how far could she go being self-taught?
Dan was staring at her for a response. What had he even said? Something about her future? It wasn’t something she wanted to think about in this moment. Being at the movies was her escape. She wasn’t poor here. There was no one to prove herself to.
Instead of answering about her future, Alice threw a useless fact at her brother. “You know, Marion Davies always wanted Bing Crosby as her co-star in this film, but Mr. Hearst, the money behind the film, said no because he didn’t like Bing’s singing style. But then the director, Raoul Walsh, and the composer, Arthur Freed, convinced him. And now”—she gestured to the film, Bing appearing on-screen—“here he is. It’s amazing what the right connections can do.”
Dan shook his head. “Read that somewhere, did you? That memory of yours is unparalleled.”
“In an interview,” she said under her breath. Then she gestured again, this time a flapping of her hand, telling her brother to pipe down. If only her mind would quiet too. But Dan had gotten inside her head. Did he not believe in her? Was that why he suggested Alice sit for entrance exams? Was she the only one who saw tennis in her future? Maybe having a backup plan wasn’t the worst idea in the world. So much for her cockiness. Alice apparently left that on the grass in New York.
To: Ms. Alice Marble
From: The University of California
Dear Ms. Marble,
On behalf of the University of California, I am pleased to offer you admission as part of the entering class of fall 1932. This offer is being extended to you as a result of your outstanding secondary school records, entrance exam scores, and a fascinating thesis on the character of Eliza Doolittle in George Bernard Shaw’s play “Pygmalion.”
As a student of the University of California, you will follow in the footsteps of distinguished scholars who’ve studied at one of the world’s premier universities, forge lasting friendships in your quest for intellectual growth, and pave your way to a bright future.
Furthermore, you have been invited to interview for the Regents’ and Chancellor’s Scholarship. Please contact the registrar’s office to schedule your interview time. To complete the enrollment process, please submit the included forms.
Again, congratulations and welcome to the University of California!
Sincerely,
Robert Gordon Sproul
Robert Gordon Sproul, BS, LLD, President of the University
Standing at her mailbox, letter in her hands, Alice let the words sink in. She’d been accepted. Dan would be pleased. But was she? The opportunity to interview for help with tuition was good. She twisted her lips and began choosing her steps up the broken cement staircase of her white frame house.
Ma would be pleased too.
Alice bobbed her head. College. She considered it further. She had tried not to give it much thought after she applied. Since then, it’d been months of sporadic tennis on her beloved asphalt courts, lots of downtime reading, picking up the odd job like folding clothes at a boutique, helping Timmy with his homework.
She’d been on the courts all morning, where every whack, smack, and crack off her racquet filled Alice with life. But would she ever be good enough to play on grass or with the hoity-toity girls from the East?
She adjusted her bag over one shoulder and eyed the letter again.
Congratulations.
Alice needed the universe to give her a clear sign. Was this letter it? She turned the knob on the front door and stepped inside, calling out, “I’m home,” and immediately stopped in her tracks. “Oh.”
They had company.