The Birthday Battle, part two

I should have known what I was letting myself in for, since it wasn’t even like I’d never played Jenny at tennis before. It was just I’d somehow decided the honour of boys everywhere rested on the outcome of this mixed-singles match. That was how I came to be scampering round the tennis court in Jenny’s garden this late birthday afternoon before tea, trying hard to keep up with her, for although younger than me she was very good at this game indeed.

Her latest return flew into my side of the court and I hurried fretfully to reach it in time, because like everything other shot she’d hit to me so far it was deliberately just within my ability but only if I pushed himself to the absolute limit. She was controlling the whole game, playing with my hopes and my hormones while in actuality not giving me a single chance. Jenny was already winning thirty-love, which made me anxious to even the score!

I reached the ball and tried my hardest to hit to back, but it was no use. If Jenny didn’t want me to return a shot, she’d make it so I couldn’t. My racquet connected with almost frantic force, but all it did was hurt my wrist while the ball flopped into the net. I sighed heavily.

“Sure you want to keep going?” Jenny sang.

I glared at her, feeling really stupid in my shorts. “You’re not that good at it, you know!” I snapped back, hoping my voice didn’t give away how exhausted I already felt. I couldn’t bear to be laughed at by this girl who was beating me.

Jenny strolled over to the other half of her side. I watched her go, jealous of her. There’d been no point my even saying what I just did. She was good, and she knew she was good. That was why she played so well, and why she was dominating me so completely. If I could only have had confidence like hers, it would have been a very different game…but how was I supposed to get confident, when I couldn’t even win against a girl?

Jenny pulled her spare tennis ball out of her knickers and got ready to serve. In her white T-shirt and matching tennis skirt, which I personally thought was way too short for the boys in the sixth form to see, she looked cool and fresh as if she’d hardly worked up a sweat. I was willing to bet even those silly underpants of hers were spotless too, while mine were giving me more trouble than I could believe. Not only was my recurring problem painfully apparent in front, they were also riding up at the back so that it felt like more than half had vanished into the most uncomfortable place possible. But no way was I going to pick them out, that was the one thing I wasn’t going to give Jenny the satisfaction of seeing! So, trying to ignore these many irritations, I got ready for the next serve.

Whack! It came. Though frightened as usual by the sheer speed and power, I managed to return it. Jenny hit it back at lightning speed, sending it into my half too fast for the eye to follow…but with perfect aim. Before I knew it the ball skimmed the very tip of the problem I keep alluding to, so close I actually felt it there as it sped by.

Returning that shot would have been impossible. I was so shocked I dropped my racquet to the court with a clatter, as my mouth opened in a huge gasp. I felt cold all over, heart beating nineteen to the dozen. I couldn’t believe how close I’d just come to being hurt more badly than I’d ever been in my life!

Then, seconds later, shock turned to rage. Of all the things for that girl to do…! Even for her it was too much. Try that at her precious tennis club and she’d lose her membership! And rightly so, because didn’t she realise how much she could have hurt me?

I rounded furiously on Jenny, glaring at her. I must have gone very pale when it happened but now I could feel the colour mounting to my cheeks.

“Don’t do that!” I cried. “That’s the worst place for a boy to get hit by a tennis ball!”

END OF PART TWO