Break Point (6 page)

I sent a monster serve caroming at him, and he hit it back, out of bounds. Maddy let out a holler like a wild jungle girl. 30-0. Mike took the next point on a jet-powered return. I took the next one with an ace up the middle. 40-15. Match point.

At the baseline, I took a deep breath and gave the ball a few bounces, getting ready to serve. I watched it hit the ground next to the tip of my white tennis sneaker. I felt the sun blaze on the back of my neck. Blood pounded in my ears. I tossed the ball with my left hand and swung my right in a synchronized arc. My racket hit the ball at the top of the arc. I felt my arm come sweeping down on the follow-through. I saw Mike moving to block it. I knew the return was coming crosscourt. I felt my legs moving to the spot. I heard the perfect thwack of the ball. I felt it hitting my racket on the sweet spot. I saw it speeding down the line, and I saw Mike running for it. I saw his return come sailing at me, and I knew my next shot would go crosscourt to the opposite corner. I hit it there with the precision of a hawk striking its prey, and I was ready for Mike's return. But it never came. Mike never reached the ball.

Game, set, match. Somehow I staggered through the motions of a handshake. Somehow I stumbled off the court and into the arms of Maddy, who hugged me around the neck, laughing and jumping up and down. I held her tightly around her slim waist, thinking I had walked into a miracle— the miracle of beating Mike, the miracle of holding this girl in my arms.

I only needed one more miracle today— the miracle of a win in the quarterfinals against Rex Hunter.

chapter nine

Sometimes miracles don't happen, especially when they involve a dead-tired underdog beating the top-ranked guy in the province. That afternoon, Rex wiped the floor with me.

He took me in straight sets, his dad shouting and grinning like a fool from the sidelines. Even Maddy clapped when he won. I knew she had to because her mom was there and Rex was a member of our club. Still, it felt like a betrayal.

Maddy and her mom invited me out for dinner that night, along with Rex and his dad. It was an all-you-can-eat spaghetti place, and Mrs. Sharma kept piling my plate with noodles, insisting that I needed to rebuild my strength. I didn't mind. As long I was stuffing my face, I didn't have to make conversation with Rex and his obnoxious dad. It burned me, though, to listen to Rex and Maddy swapping thoughts on the upcoming semifinals, which I wouldn't be playing in.

After dinner, Mrs. Sharma drove me to the bus station. She and Maddy were staying to watch the rest of the tournament, but I didn't have the heart to sit in the bleachers and pretend to cheer for Rex. Maddy gave me a hug before I boarded the bus. I tried to keep the feeling of it in my mind during the long, dreary ride home.

Making the quarterfinals was a good result, I reminded myself. Best of all, it guaranteed me a spot at the nationals in August. The only problem was, the nationals were in Vancouver, which meant airfare, a hotel room and eating out. I figured it was going to cost close to two thousand bucks, and where was I going to get that kind of money? Between new equipment and extra lessons, I hadn't managed to save much from my summer job. I couldn't ask Mom for it. She had enough financial problems. Plus, if she had an extra two thousand bucks, she would probably spend it to save the Tree.

The bus lurched down the dark highway. It smelled of diesel fumes and cheap perfumed soap from the tiny onboard bathroom. My legs were twice as long as the space between the rows of seats and cramped up no matter how I bent and twisted them. I drifted in and out of an uncomfortable doze. Visions of the Archibald Cross Memorial Cup played in my mind. I had visions of beating Rex, hoisting the cup and discovering a million-dollar check hidden inside it. I had visions of arriving at the nationals in style, with first-class airfare, a luxury hotel room and brand-new equipment. I dreamed that by winning that cup, all my problems would be solved.

The Thursday evening two weeks after the provincials and one week before the Archibald Cross Memorial Tournament, I took some time off training to set up for the black-tie fundraiser. The tickets to the concert were selling like crazy, and Maddy's mom felt confident they'd have enough money to make the $100,000 payment that was due in August.

Maddy and her mom had rounded up a bunch of girls to decorate the place. They were busy arranging bouquets of flowers on the tables in the common room, stringing patio lanterns up on the verandah and planting tiki torches around the pool. Rex's dad had recruited Rex and me to set up the stage and the rented sound equipment on the lawn near the pool deck.

“A little more to the left with that speaker, boys!” Mr. Hunter shouted, his cuff links glinting. “All right, set her down!”

We lowered the speaker, heavy as a lead safe, onto a wooden platform next to the stage.

“One more to go. You boys need a break?” Mr. Hunter asked.

“Naw, I'm good,” said Rex. He flashed a smile at the girls tying garlands of flowers to the deck chairs around the pool. Ever since he had won the provincials, Rex had attained the status of Greek god among the girls at the club. The only one who didn't throw herself at him was Maddy.

“How about you, Connor?” asked Mr. Hunter.

“Let's get it done,” I said. I hated taking orders from Mr. Hunter, but I bit my tongue and reminded myself I wasn't doing it for him. I was doing it for Maddy, and for the club.

As night fell, we continued working under the beam of the floodlights. Finally the stage was assembled, and all the sound and light checks came up positive. The girls finished their decorating, and we stood back together to admire our work.

“This is wonderful,” said Mrs. Sharma. She put one arm around Maddy and the other around me. I felt awkward because I was drenched in sweat and probably had B.O. But I put my arm around her shoulder, the way I would hug a friendly aunt at a family get-together. It seemed as if that's what she expected. Now the three of us were linked, with Maddy's arm around her mom's waist and my arm around her mom's shoulder. We stood so close that the back of my hand brushed against Maddy's upper arm. Under the moon and stars, that small touch felt intimate.

“Alanis is really excited about this,” said Mr. Hunter. “She can't wait to perform.”

“I can't thank you enough,” said Mrs. Sharma.

“You don't need to thank me,” said Mr. Hunter. “This club is a very special place, for all of us.”

He had lowered his voice and put on that tone that made his words sound
deep
and
sincere
. We just stood there, not knowing what to say that wouldn't sound corny. Then Mr. Hunter spoke in his normal businesslike voice again.

“Now, I know you don't want to talk about this, but we all remember what happened before the last fundraiser,” he said.

“I'm sure that's not—” Mrs. Sharma began.

“I know,” said Mr. Hunter. “It was a random act of vandalism. Still, I've asked my security guard from the office to keep an eye on things tonight. He'll do a drive-by on the street every hour. If he sees anything suspicious, he's to contact the police.”

“I appreciate that,” Mrs. Sharma said. “But it's really not necessary.”

“It is necessary,” Mr. Hunter said. “For everyone's peace of mind.” There was no arguing with Mr. Hunter. There was nothing left to set up, either, so our little group began to disperse. Mrs. Sharma and Maddy went back to the clubhouse to shut things down for the night. Some of the girls headed out to the bike racks. Other kids walked up the street toward the bus stop. I went to the locker room to get my running shoes and then sat down on the front steps of the club to change footwear for the jog home.

“Happy to give you a lift, Connor,” Mr. Hunter said as he came down the steps and headed toward his Mercedes-Benz.

“I gotta train,” I said. “But thanks.”

“You a runner? What's your time for a five-mile run?” Mr. Hunter shot the question at me. Everything was a competition to this guy.

“About thirty-three minutes,” I said.

“Not bad,” said Mr. Hunter. “Rex runs it in thirty. Well, see you at the party.”

I watched his Benz take off down the street. I was feeling as if I'd never be as good as Rex at anything when Maddy came up behind me.

“He's full of bull,” she said. “Rex has never run five miles in his life.”

“How do you know?” I turned to look up at her.

“His coach told me. He keeps trying to get Rex to take up running, and Rex won't do it. He's good, yeah. But he's lazy.”

I could have jumped up and hugged her, but at that moment her mom walked out the door.

“Come on, Maddy. Let's get home.” Mrs. Sharma swept her daughter toward the Jetta. “See you tomorrow, Connor.”

“See you.”

I sprinted to the end of the block, then fell into a strong, steady pace that I could maintain all the way home. I didn't know why it was so satisfying to know that Rex's dad was a liar and a braggart. But it was. It felt even better knowing that Maddy saw right through him.

chapter ten

I tossed and turned all night. Mom came down from the Tree and sat at the kitchen table until way past midnight, going over papers for her next day's meeting at city hall. It wasn't so much the light from the kitchen that kept me awake. It was thinking about Quinte and those scumbags in his gang, the kids who had wrecked the fundraising auction. What if they did the same thing to the concert? Sure, the security guard would be passing by every hour, but was that enough? I wished I had volunteered to sleep over at the club. That way I could have kept an eye on things personally.

I felt off kilter and anxious on my jog to the club the next morning. But when I arrived, everything looked fine. The street stirred with the regular activity of people driving to work and parents walking their kids to school. I did some stretching on the grass in front of the clubhouse and waited until Maddy and her mom pulled up. Mrs. Sharma waved and smiled a big, nervous smile as she came up the walkway. She was trying to act like nothing could possibly go wrong. But I noticed she was grasping her daughter's hand tightly as she fit the key into the lock and opened the door.

The club was quiet. Nothing looked amiss. Without saying a word, we headed up the stairs to the common room. It wasn't until I stepped into the room that my stomach unclenched. The place looked just as the girls had left it. The tables were set with white tablecloths, candles and bouquets of flowers. The patio lanterns dangled cheerily from the eaves of the verandah.

Mrs. Sharma let out a half-laugh, half-sigh and flopped into the nearest chair.

“Thank goodness,” she said. She shook her head. “I don't know what I expected.”

“I do,” said Maddy. She squeezed her mom's shoulder.

Mrs. Sharma took a few seconds to collect herself.

“Well, good,” she said finally. “Let's get this day started. We'll open up the courts, but we'll keep the pool and the common room off limits until this evening. Connor, you'd better run down to the pool and make sure everything's okay there.”

“I'll come with you,” said Maddy.

We didn't exactly run to the pool. We ambled along instead, basking in the morning sun. Halfway down the white-pebble path, she slipped her hand into mine. She didn't say anything, just let her fingers rest in my palm. Blood rushed to my head so fast and strong, I didn't dare look at her in case I grabbed her and started kissing her.

From this distance, our view of the pool was blocked by a row of bushes and a chain-link fence. But as we got closer, I could make out the shapes of the stage and the sound system we'd set up the night before. A cold feeling stole over me.

I dropped Maddy's hand.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Something's wrong.”

I picked up my pace and started to run. As I burst through the gate, I saw the shattered stage lights, the ripped-out wires of the sound system and the speakers, sunk at the bottom of the swimming pool. The door to the pool shed was smashed open. A barrel of chlorine lay on its side on the pool deck, empty. Obviously, someone had dumped it into the pool. Thousands of dollars' worth of equipment lay drowned and ruined.

“I'm gonna kill them!” I shouted. “I'm gonna pound their heads in!”

Maddy ran up to me and grabbed my wrists.

“Stop it, Connor,” she said. “We have to call the police. Oh my god, my poor mom.”

Mrs. Sharma called the police. Then she called Mr. Hunter. He told her he was shocked. He explained there had been a false alarm at his office the night before, which had stopped the security guard from coming around to check on the club. He promised to try to get Alanis Morissette to come anyway. With a superhuman effort, we might be able to clean away the wreckage and set up a new stage. But Mr. Hunter called back half an hour later and said Alanis wouldn't come. She was concerned about security.

I knew I should have slept at the club that night.

The police took everything more seriously this time. Two fundraisers ruined in the space of two months had to be more than a coincidence.

“Do you know of anyone who would want to target the club?” they kept asking Maddy's mom as she paced around the office, chewing her nails. Mrs. Sharma was always so neat and well put together— not the kind of person who chewed her fingernails.

“I don't know,” she said. “I don't know why. I don't know who. Oh my god, who would do this?”

Maddy and I sent out emails to people who had bought tickets, put up a cancellation notice on the website and a Closed sign on the clubhouse door. But as soon as I got a chance, I took Maddy aside where her mom and the cops couldn't hear us.

“Let's tell them,” I said.

“We can't,” said Maddy. “What about Quinte?”

“What about him?” I was so mad, I didn't care what happened to the dumb kid.