Summer of Second Serves

Bull Torres loomed over me at the padel courts like he owned Pine Ridge Camp, which he basically did. His real name was Bradley, but after he'd hospitalized three kids in tackle football last summer, the nickname stuck. I clutched my racquet like a lifeline.

"Nice form, newbie," Bull sneered, though nothing about his tone suggested anything nice. "Or should I say, nice lack thereof."

Behind me, Fox—that would be Scarlett, with her clever grin and reputation for outsmarting counselors—suppressed a laugh. She'd earned the nickname after tricking half the camp into believing she was a junior instructor. "Lay off him, Bradley. At least he's trying."

My face burned. This was supposed to be my summer of transformation—new me, new confidence, maybe even friends who weren't online avatars. Instead, I'd spent three weeks dodging Bull and failing spectacularly at every sport.

"You're up, Alex," Fox said, nodding toward the service line. "Show him what you've got."

I'd been practicing at dawn, shadow-swinging while everyone slept. The camp lake shimmered beyond the courts, water so still it looked like glass. My palms were sweating. Bull leaned against the fence, arms crossed, waiting for me to choke.

The cafeteria incident flashed through me—yesterday, when I'd laughed at something Fox said and spinach had launched from my teeth like a tiny green missile across the table. I'd wanted to dissolve through the floorboards. Instead, she'd just handed me a napkin and said, "Happens to everyone, Alex," like it genuinely wasn't a big deal.

I tossed the ball up, exhaled, and served. It cleared the net, bouncing precisely where I'd aimed—a perfect shot toward Bull's backhand.

His eyes widened. He scrambled, missed, and the ball landed just inside the line.

"Lucky shot," he muttered, but I caught the surprise in his voice.

Fox grinned. "Not bad, rookie."

The sun felt warmer on my shoulders as I walked to the baseline. Something had shifted—not just my confidence, but how I saw myself. Maybe I wasn't just the awkward kid with spinach in his teeth. Maybe I was someone who could surprise himself, and others, when it mattered most.