Summer of Secrets

My first day at the club, and I already felt like a total fraud. The membership fee had drained my mom's savings, but she insisted — "country club connections" for college apps. Whatever.

I stood by the **padel** courts, watching kids my age move with effortless confidence. They knew the unspoken rules, the social hierarchy I'd spent sixteen years avoiding. My hair kept falling in my face, this uncooperative mess I'd finally stopped fighting last year. Let it frizz. Who cares, right?

"You gonna play or just stand there looking mysterious?"

I jumped. A guy leaned against the fence, dark eyes glinting with amusement. Mateo. I'd seen him earlier, slicing through the water like he owned the pool.

"I'm, uh, scouting," I lied. "Tactical analysis."

He laughed, and something in my chest did that annoying flutter thing. "A **spy**, huh? Cool." He tossed me a racquet. "Come here. I'll teach you."

My brain screamed no. Too awkward. Too new. Too much chance of humiliating myself.

"Sure," my mouth said. Traitor.

We played for an hour. I missed every ball, swung at empty air, tripped over my own feet. Mateo didn't laugh once. Just corrected my grip with gentle fingers and said, "Again."

Afterward, we sat on the clubhouse patio, sharing a fruit platter someone's mom had ordered. I tried the **papaya** — sweet, musky, nothing like the bland stuff from the grocery store back home.

"So," Mateo said, all casual. "You seeing anyone?"

I almost choked on my fruit. "What? No. Why?"

"Just asking."

"Are you?"

He hesitated. "There's this girl. She's new, kinda weird hair —" he gestured at my mess "—but she's got this laugh. Makes you want to make her laugh again."

My face burned. Like, actual fire.

"But her dad's super intense," he continued. "Total **bull** in a business suit. I heard him yelling on his phone about someone stealing his clients. Freaked me out."

Oh. That. My dad. The embezzlement accusations, the investigation, why we'd moved states in the middle of junior year. Why my mom had scraped together money for this club, desperate to give us somewhere normal.

"He's not usually like that," I said quietly. "It's been a hard year."

Mateo's expression softened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well," he said, picking up another piece of papaya. "Good thing I don't care about his clients."

He smiled, and I realized maybe — just maybe — I didn't have to be the new girl forever. Maybe I could just be me, frizz and secrets and all.

"Again tomorrow?" he asked.

"Definitely."