Fox on the Court

The summer before freshman year, my mom signed me up for padel lessons at the country club. Like, thanks Mom, nothing says 'prepare for high school' like learning a sport that's basically tennis for people who can't commit.

I was terrible. My wrist snap had all the power of a wet noodle, and I tripped over my own feet more times than I'd care to admit. The real problem wasn't the sport though—it was who was watching.

That's when I first noticed her. Fox. That's what everyone called Maya Fox, because she was clever as hell, always three steps ahead of everyone else. She'd watch me from the poolside lounge chair, sunglasses on, this tiny smirk playing at her lips like she knew something I didn't.

"You're holding the racket wrong," she said one day, appearing behind me while I was practicing my serve against the wall.

I jumped, nearly dropping the thing. "What?"

"Your grip. You're choking it like you're trying to kill it." She adjusted my fingers, her hands quick and confident. "Like this. Think of it as an extension of your arm, not some alien weapon."

Our fingers brushed. My face burned hotter than the asphalt.

But then HE showed up. Tyler 'Bull' Evans, incoming sophomore, built like a tank and about as subtle. He challenged me to a match right there, and suddenly everyone from the pool was watching. Fox included.

"Don't let him get in your head," Fox whispered from the sidelines. "He plays like a bull—charges straight at everything, zero strategy. Use that against him."

She was right. Every time Bull smashed the ball, I sent it back soft, landing it right where he wasn't. The look on his face when I won the final point—pure, unadulterated confusion—was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

Afterward, Fox found me by the pool, my legs dangling in the water.

"Not bad, Padelfoot," she said.

"Padelfoot? Seriously?"

"Well, you're not exactly graceful." She sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched. "But you're smart. That's way more dangerous."

I watched Bull storm off toward the clubhouse, defeated. Looked at Fox, who was smiling at me like I was actually worth noticing. For the first time all summer, I felt like I might actually survive high school.

Maybe padel wasn't so lame after all.