The Underdogs (24 page)

Evie's mouth dropped open, and she turned to look at us before breaking into a wide grin and giving a hop of excitement. She waved at me and then she looked to Will, who was shouting at the top of his lungs for her,
“Yes!”
and laughing and grinning and whooping.

On the other side of the court, Tad's face had crumpled. He was red and sweaty, and his swagger was gone, his shoulders slumped. When people noticed this, the cheering quieted significantly. He was just a kid. No one wanted to give him a nervous breakdown. The point had been made, and everyone knew it, and that was enough. Evie would agree with that, I knew. She was not mean-spirited. But she
was
scarred, and I could see she was bracing for abuse as she approached the net with a shy smile and held out her hand for the customary shake. Tad was still in the middle of the court, racket on the ground, head in his hands as if he'd lost in the finals of the US Open. He couldn't bring himself to look up at us, so when he finally took his hands away from his face, we saw something we'd never expected to see there: humility. I couldn't believe it, but Tad picked himself up and walked purposefully to Evie, held out his hand, and met her gaze as they shook.

We could read his lips easily:
Good game.

They walked off the court, Evie first, Tad lagging behind. As we waited for them to make it back to the lobby, Lucky said, “Guess she has her old man's genes.” He caught Will's eye. “She's good, isn't she?”

Everyone was out of their seats now, some moving on, some still talking about Evie and what the heck had happened to that girl, and our little group—Celia, Will, Patrick, Goran, Lucky, Serene, and my mom—ran down to the café area to meet Evie coming off the court.

Will nodded, watching for Evie to come out, and Lucky said, “How did this happen?”

Patrick looked sideways at Will. “I think Will's been secretly teaching her.”

Lucky looked incredulous. “No way.”

“Yes way.” Patrick stretched and looked around at the campers in the lobby, ready to get the camp day back on track.

Will turned to face Lucky. “Evie said she wanted to be the one to tell you,” he said flatly. “I'm sorry, but I thought you knew. I'm happy to answer any questions after you speak to her, but this is between you and your daughter.”

Will walked off to greet his protégée, but turned back briefly. “Look,” he said. Lucky raised his eyebrows. “You should know that your daughter's got it. She's a real talent.”

Lucky, lost in thought, said nothing. Will clearly was not impressed with Evie's dad, but he kept his counsel and went to meet her. Evie never made it to the lobby because a bunch of campers had surrounded her and Tad in the café area. I was down there like a shot, and I weaved my way through the crowd.

Celia was hugging her, asking with wonder, “Where'd you get that forehand?”

Goran raised his fist in triumph and shook it toward Evie, who I thought was going to explode with happiness. Will made his way to her, and she looked up at her coach with a proud smile. He clamped his hand on her right shoulder and squeezed. “You did good,” he said. “Where in the world did you learn an overhead smash?” Will wasn't a hugger, so he slapped her awkwardly on the back, as if she were choking on a piece of steak, and then left to go back to work.

Evie saw me then. “I couldn't have done it without you, Chels,” she cried, hugging me so tight it hurt. I didn't mind. As we jumped up and down together, we heard a sudden sharp, “Hey!” shouted from the top of the lobby steps.
“You!”

What?

It was Serene. She was pointing at Evie and glaring. She had her hands on her hips, and was staring straight at us. “I never doubted you for a second, girl.” She broke into a twinkly Serene grin and walked down the four steps toward us.

Evie, utterly confused, said, “You knew?”

Serene threw her head back and laughed, eyes shining. She leaned in and said in a stage whisper, “Where do you think your Volcano came from?” Then she winked. So
that's
where Will got such an expensive racket.
Wow
. It wouldn't have been easy for Serene to secure an extra free racket from the company that sponsored her, but she had done it. For Evie.

“Happy to help,” Serene said. “I look forward to meeting you on the tennis court someday.” She winked at us again and jogged off, tennis skirt swishing away.

As Evie absorbed everything, I could see my mom right behind her, and she didn't look thrilled. She clearly saw what I did: Evie's glow was fading. She was glancing around, swiveling and searching. But she couldn't find him. She couldn't find her father anywhere, couldn't find the spot where he was waiting to congratulate her.

When things died down, we skipped up to the front desk. We were riding a high knowing Tad would never bully her again, and even if he did, Evie had a new legion of supporters who would jump to her defense. She had Goran's attention, Serene's approval, Celia's affection, Will's respect.

“Hey, Beth,” Evie said. “Have you seen Lucky?”

Mom gave her a grin and a thumbs-up for the game, then said, “No idea.”
No idea
. He was MIA, and therefore not enveloping his daughter in the proudest hug a dad could ever give. Evie shrugged, but not like she didn't care. Like she was done with Lucky. It was an angry shrug. My mom looked bored flipping through the new
People,
which had a big picture of Prince Harry smiling out from the cover.

“Chels, stay with me awhile. I need some company,” Mom said.

I couldn't really argue. I got my run of the place enough of the time, so I waved goodbye to Evie and stayed with my mom. Evie said she was going to go read. I should've known something was wrong, but after what had just happened I assumed she was okay. Even considering Lucky's latest offense. The tip-off should have been that she'd just had the most triumphant moment of her life, and she'd snapped back into a mood darker than I'd seen her in in a long time.

 

After

Evening came with a fresh wave of humidity and a hazy pink sky. Camp had let out at five o'clock as usual, and a few of the coaches braved the stifling heat to play some doubles on the outdoor courts. I was still stuck at the desk. I batted my eyelashes at my mom.

“Oh, go ahead,” she said.

Off I went to find Evie. I checked the obvious places first, including the storage rooms, but no dice. I headed to the outdoor courts and saw Lucky swatting at a volley from Patrick, but no Evie. I was starting to get nervous. My instincts were going berserk, but it was a nonspecific kind of dread and I didn't know what to make of it. I ran to the front desk, where my mom was chatting with a member about the elliptical versus rowing machines.

“Nope. Evie's not here,” my mom said when I approached. “I haven't seen her in a while, come to think of it.”

I went to check behind the Dumpster, but I already knew in my gut what I would find: no Evie. I wanted to avoid alarming anyone, but something was off. Evie was missing, and while I had to consider that she had run away, I couldn't help thinking about this killer on the loose. The police seemed to be no closer to identifying Annabel's murderer, and if Evie had isolated herself as usual, she'd be an easy target for someone who wanted to attack young girls. I sprinted back out to the courts and ran right onto Court 6, where Celia was getting ready to serve. The four counselors looked at me like I was nuts as I stood in the middle of the court. Celia giggled and said, “Watch out—my serve's a killer!”

I walked up to Lucky, who glanced behind me, as if to look for his daughter. He stood up straight.

“What is it, Chels?”

The thing about Lucky was, he'd always counted on everyone else at the club to watch out for Evie. So even
he
knew that when the rest of us couldn't find her, something was wrong. He acted quickly when he saw me. He waved to Celia, Will, and Patrick with his racket and yelled to them, “I gotta go.”

“What is it?” Patrick was jogging over to our side.

“Have you guys seen Evie recently?”

Patrick shrugged. “Not since after she wiped the floor with Tad.”

“I'm going to go have a look around for her,” Lucky said. “Carry on without me.”

Will shook his head, and Celia's eyes were wide with worry. With Annabel's death still unsolved, no one was messing around. “We'll help. I'll take the back of the club,” Will said. “Celia, why don't you hit the pool, and Patrick—check
everywhere
.”

Patrick nodded, put his head down, and bounded away. We went our separate ways.

Ten minutes later, everyone met back at the front desk. My mom was concerned.

“You checked the convenience store down the street?” she asked, her voice a little shaky.

“I talked to the staff, Beth,” Patrick said, shaking his head. “They haven't seen her.”

Lucky cleared his throat. “Okay. We'd better call the police.”

I actually had one more area to try. I had a feeling that maybe this was the one place Evie would go if she hit rock bottom; she'd observed once that it was a location
everyone saw but no one ever visited, a place where you could disappear.
Lucky saw me heading for the front door and said, “Beth, hold off for now. I think there might be one more special place Chelsea and Evie have that we haven't checked yet.”

My mom took one look at me and nodded. “Okay, Chelsea, but if you guys don't find her this time, I'm calling the cops.”

Lucky agreed and followed me out. We jogged across the parking lot. I kept going past the Dumpster, and Lucky stopped and looked ahead at the landfill in the distance.

“Really?” he said.

Yep
.
Really.
It was a last-ditch idea, but no one seemed to have a better one. Together we ran across the weedy, dusty vacant lot between the landfill and the club, and easily hopped the halfhearted three-foot wire fence marking the boundary.

“Now what?” Lucky wiped sweat off his brow, smearing dust on his face as he did.

A mountain of garbage loomed in front of us. It looked surprisingly un-rubbish-like from here, more like a big dirt hill with a layer of junk sprinkled on it. Lucky looked up at the monolith and said, “I don't see her up there. Let's walk around it.”

The landfill was closed, so it was Lucky and me alone in the dusk, walking around this place that, oddly, didn't smell very bad up close, scanning for Evie. Lucky froze on the dirt path at the base and pointed. He raced to a colorful patch of junk. I saw then what it was: four dirty fingers sticking out of the pile. He knelt down and frantically pulled everything away, and I joined him, desperate to see what was underneath.

 

After

Lucky let out a long breath and buried his head in his hands. “Thank you, God,” he said, pulling out a latex glove that, because it was covered in grime and buried under all that junk, had looked like it could've been a twelve-year-old girl's fingers.

A gust of wind blew by then, and I looked toward the top of the dump, and then I knew where Evie was. Lucky stood up and followed me, and we picked our way up. Finally, on another, higher crest, we saw her. Evie was sitting on a filthy yellow couch cushion she'd found, surveying the town of St. Claire and the club below, hugging her knees.

Lucky said, “Hey, kid.”

“Hello,” Evie said coldly.

She wasn't surprised to see us; I guess she'd heard us scrabbling around in a panic. Lucky made his way to her and sat on some garbage. I stayed where I was, watching and listening. He stared off into the distance with her for a moment. It was pretty cool up here, actually, if you didn't mind the germs and gunk everywhere.

“I saw part of your match. You were incredible.”

Evie hugged her knees harder and glared into the yonder. “Yeah? So where were you afterward? Even
Tad
congratulated me, but not you.”

“Hey,” he said, still trying to meet her eyes. “I looked for you, but you were surrounded by fans and I didn't want to interrupt that. Then I couldn't find you—”

“I was at the front desk,
Dad
.”

Lucky took a loud breath in through his teeth. “Okay. I should have found you. It's not that I didn't want to, but … it was kind of a shock. I was surprised you hadn't told me about it.”

She
tsked
in that way teenagers do when they are disgusted. “That shouldn't matter,” she countered. “A normal father would be happy for me.”

Lucky shook his head. “Hey, kiddo. I'm not sure I
want
you playing tennis. You should be focusing on school—”

“Please do
not
be a hypocrite,” she said, finally meeting his eyes.

“It's not that,” he insisted. “I've been there, kid. I
know
better. Putting everything you have into the game is a path to disappointment. They tell you how great you are, but when you're on tour fighting your guts out, and living in crappy motels trying to qualify for some lame tournament in Bangalore, you realize how hard it is. You're totally on your own.”

Evie sighed and gesticulated dramatically. “But that's just
it
. Who cares about going pro? I want to play the game. Why can't you be happy for me?” She stuck her head back between her knees, so her next words were muffled. “Why can't you just be a normal father?”

Lucky rubbed his eyes with his palms and said nothing. Evie popped up for air and added for good measure, “My friend was murdered this summer. Killed. Annabel—she was really nice, Dad. She was my friend. Do you even care?”

Lucky, ill equipped for fatherhood at even the most basic level, appeared bewildered as she continued. “And don't even get me started on you constantly leaving me here! I'm always making excuses for you, and it's
so
humiliating. I don't want to hang around here anymore. I've had it.”