The Racquet Accident

Chapter Ten: Ruining His Peace.

Chapter Ten: "Ruining His Peace."

ONCE UPON A TIME I loved tournaments.

Tournaments had once brought excitement—the good kind. The type of excitement that came because I wanted to get out there and play.

Yet today, the type of excitement I was feeling wasn't familiar. In fact, the bagel I had eaten this morning in haste when I ran out of the front door was about to come back up.

On an October weekend where I could have been stuck in my room, breaking pencil after pencil over a lengthy assignment, I stood in the lobby of an arena in some small town near Niagara Falls. The loud chatter coming from my team was riddled with contrasting emotions before collecting and falling into silence as they took in the scene before them. My lips formed an 'O' as I looked around at the pictures of people that played for national teams along the walls. At the excited buzz in the atmosphere, people already with racquets in their hands, rush to get from one part of the arena to the other for the opening welcome ceremonies.

My hands within my pockets of the purple jackets I had waited weeks for rolled into fists as the crowd seemed to only get bigger.

And bigger.

"Jesus Christ," Rhett muttered as he passed me, some members following suit as they moved in the direction of where our coaches were speaking up ahead.

When I had overheard the conversations on the bus we used from Jasper Bay to come here, someone had mentioned teams from various places in Canada had come. And America.

I caught sight of a particular team's yellow jackets. I was basically squinting at them when Liya, who had been standing next to me 'ooh'ing and 'ahh'ing, let out a small laugh. "Don't tell me you think their jackets are nice," I said under my breath.

"Maybe it's their school colors." She suggested before we started walking through the crowd, catching up to our team.

Herringway's colors were purple and yellow. So why did they choose to make such an awful decision?

"How many players are here?" I asked. I knew the number because it had circulated throughout the bus ride but it was still too big for me to believe. People brushed by us with light smiles and squealing. Then there was me, a ball of nerves running on a few hours of sleep because of said nerves and feeling like if someone made the wrong comment towards me, I was going to snap.

A sigh left me as I rubbed my eyes, but Liya didn't seem to notice my lack of energy when she shot me a curious look. "How many do you think?"

My stomach twisted. Too many. "How many in women's singles?" I asked instead.

"Larine..." She trailed off, looking at me with caution. Now she could notice how nervous I was. Was it the way my gaze was darting across the crowd or did she have X-ray vision that allowed her to see that my nails were now making a home into my palm within my pockets?

Before I could say a word, Rhett who had been walking in front of us, twisted to look at me. "Why are you asking her? You know. You're guaranteed one full set of matches this morning and then after that, if you lose, you're out," He narrowed his eyes at me in a way that may have been menacing but in reality, it looked like whatever he had eaten for breakfast was about to come back up. Good to know I wasn't alone. But at the same time, this wasn't Rhett's first rodeo. "You know there are 128 women competing in your section, Larine."

128 sounded terrifying.

It shouldn't have sounded like a strange number.

If anything, the number, while making me nervous more than I realized, only seemed to make me grit my teeth before I took a deep breath. Just get through today. If I got through today, to the round of 32, then I'd be okay. I'd be able to play tomorrow and not sit in the stands overlooking the remaining games with the rest of the crowd of...