Palm Court Summer

Maya's summer strategy had been solid: avoid the pool, hide in her room, survive until September. But then her mom signed her up for padel lessons at Palm Court, and suddenly her invisible summer was becoming very visible.

"You'll thank me," her mom had said, already regretting it when Maya slammed her door.

Now she stood on court three, racket heavy in hand, watching Chase—the same Chase who sat three rows back in English—demonstrating a backhand drive. His cable bracelet caught the sunlight, flashing against his tan skin. Maya tried to look anywhere but at his arms.

"You're gripping it too tight," a voice said. Maya jumped. It was Chase, standing way too close. "Here, like this."

He reached for her hand, palm warm against hers as he adjusted her fingers. Maya's brain short-circuited. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to be invisible.

"Try it now," he said, stepping back.

She hit the ball. It sailed straight into the neighboring yard, where a golden retriever named Bear—she knew this because the owners kept yelling it—chased it down, barking triumphantly.

"Bear! Drop it!" an old lady called from next door. The dog trotted back with the padel ball like it had just won the Wimbledon final.

Chase was laughing. Not mean laughing. Actual laughing. "That's the furthest anyone's hit a ball all summer."

Maya's face burned. But then Chase was handing her another ball, and somehow the embarrassment shifted into something else. Something lighter.

"Show me that grip again," she said, surprising herself.

By the end of July, Maya had stopped hiding in her room. She played padel every Tuesday and Thursday. Bear the dog became their unofficial ball boy, appearing predictably whenever someone hit it too far. And sometimes—just sometimes—Chase walked her home, their fingers brushing like it was an accident, like neither of them was thinking about it constantly.

"Summer's almost over," he said on the last day of August, standing at her driveway.

"Yeah," Maya said. "See you in English, I guess."

"Definitely." He paused. "Same seat? Three rows back?"

"You know it."

Maya walked into her house already counting down the days until school started. Her summer strategy had failed completely. And she couldn't wait to tell her mom she was right.