| |
“How are things going with teaching the weird girl?” Tony asked as we walked home on Friday after school.
I suppressed a laugh. “She’s... surprising me. Better than I thought she’d be.” Considerably better. “And, actually, I don’t find her that crazy anymore, I think it was just defensiveness.”
“Ah, so you’re getting to her now, are you? Turning on that old Nevis charm?”
I shook my head ruefully, “I think she’s immune to charm, just as Nick said. In fact, I get the feeling she doesn’t like me at all.”
“How do you mean? Did she say that?”
“No, it’s just whenever I’ve gotten too close, like to show her a swing or something, she goes all stiff and uncomfortable. She definitely doesn’t like me touching her, even though it’s totally innocent contact.” Or not so innocent on her part, I thought, as I remembered her wiggling her backside against me to annoy me. I lapsed into silence as I tried to puzzle that one out.
Tony looked thoughtful too. “You know,” he said after a moment of reflection, “it could be the opposite. She could get uncomfortable because she does like you?”
“I very much doubt I’m her type,” I said, trying not to allow my pulse to jump at that idea.
“So, what is her type?”
“That’s a point, I actually have absolutely no idea. I’ve never even seen her talk to anyone besides me or a teacher. But I’m definitely not it. I asked her to Miranda’s party with me and she turned me down flat.” In fact, she’d revealed she was an amazing tennis player to get out of going after I'd goaded her into saying yes. She was so not into being with me.
“That’s a pity, I would have liked a chance to talk to the girl who’s got my best friend so distracted.” He nudged me suggestively.
“She has not!” I spluttered.
“Yeah, mate, she has. You go all quiet and sort of excited before P.E. class and then you come back all frustrated and irritated. You don’t hear half the conversations going on around you, I know the signs.” He ribbed me mercilessly. “You can deny it all you want, but we all know you’re thinking about her constantly.”
I gave him my best glare, but he just laughed.
“I’m thinking about tennis, and excited to be given the chance to play a bit. I come back irritated because I’m having to do it with a beginner,” I justified, sticking to my promise to Cami not to tell anyone how she could really play.
“Uh huh,” Anthony kept laughing until I ripped his backpack off his shoulder and chucked it down the road.
“You’re so mature,” he said sarcastically, giving me an annoyed look.
“You’re so mature,” I bickered lamely back at him.
He fetched his pack and gave me a wide berth as we continued. “The sooner you kiss her the better, I think,” he grumbled.
“I'd get my face slapped for sure,” I said, failing to hide my disappointment at the inevitable outcome of me kissing Cami.
“Somehow, I don’t think so.” He gave me a wave and went up the steps to his house.
I stamped onward, mulling over his words. Was he right? Not about her secretly liking me, but about me being so distracted by her that I was losing focus? That was probably true, but also a bad thing. Distractions were a no-no with my tennis, especially if I wanted to win the Championship. Just as well I didn’t have to play Cami in the tournament! In a perfect world, I'd much rather play with her.
I stopped in my tracks as that idea took hold. Cami and I could double. We’d be virtually unstoppable if we were to compete in the mixed doubles. We’d totally dominate that category. It would be practically a guaranteed win!
Then I shook my head to clear that vision. It wasn’t going to happen. Except for that one time today, Cami wouldn’t even play properly just with me. There was no way she’d ever agree to publicly show off what she was really capable of.
I sighed and turned into our driveway. My dad was there again, under a car, as usual.
“Hey,” I said in greeting as I went past. He rolled out from under it, but he just gave me a smile and a nod. He didn’t ask me to help this time and I felt somehow a bit low about that. He’d obviously given up now.
I should have been glad, but I thought instead about how Cami had given up on something she clearly loved. I didn’t love fixing cars, but I did love my dad.
I didn’t stop though and went into the house without my usual cheerfulness that it was Friday and school was done for the week.
Tomorrow, I’ll be back coaching, I thought, trying to bolster myself up. I swung my arm and was pleased to feel my shoulder was totally normal. The week of rest had done me good and playing a match today hadn’t made it flare up again, so that was great news. But even with those thoughts in my head, I still felt down. It was all Cami’s fault. Why couldn’t I like someone simple and easy? Why did she have to be such a mystery, and a stroppy mystery at that? Tony was right, I'd been distracted. But no more! My focus was going to be one hundred percent on the tournament from now on.
I carried that determination right through until Miranda’s party on Saturday night. Right up until the moment Cami walked in.