Raising Hope by Katie Willard

comes out. I feel a little prickle of shame when I see her forehead pucker and her mouth scrunch up for a minute like I’ve hurt her.
    She loses the soft, laughing look she had just a second ago, and she turns away quickly so that her hair flies out behind her. “Okay, then,” she says.
    “Ready?” I ask Sam.
    “Sure,” he says, and we walk toward the courts together.
    “Hope!” My back stiffens, and before I can even turn around, Sara Lynn is calling, “Don’t forget to drink lots of water! It’s hot today!”
    “Okay,” I say back.
    Then, in another second, she calls again, “I’ll pick you up at two! Eat a decent lunch and don’t forget to wait a half hour after you eat before you swim.”
    “Oooohhhh,” I mutter through gritted teeth as Sam and I walk to the court together. “She’s driving me nuts!”
    “It’s what moms do,” he says, laughing. “I’m twenty-nine, and my mom still drives me nuts.”
    “She’s
not
my mother,” I say. God! I don’t want him to imagine for one second that I’m related to her, especially since she was acting like such an idiot. Of course, he thought she was my baby-sitter the other day, and I told him she wasn’t that, either. I frown and sneak a peek up at him to see if he’s looking at me like I have four heads, which is the way most people look when stuff starts to come up about my crazy family. He just looks down at me with patient eyes like he’s interested, like he’s waiting to hear what I have to say.
    “Sara Lynn’s my guardian. Well, she and my aunt Ruth are. See, my mother died when I was born.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry,” Sam says, and his eyes get soft and sad, like he’s sorry for me.
    “Don’t be.” I shrug, trying to show off how brave I am. “I never knew her.”
    I’m on a roll, so I keep going. “And my father’s in the CIA,” I lie.
    Sam raises his eyebrows. “The CIA?”
    I nod. “He’s, like, a really important secret agent, so he can’t raise me. That’s why I live with Sara Lynn and Ruth.”
    Oh, no. My stomach flips over as I remember the KKs teasing me about Ruth and Sara Lynn being a romantic couple. “You know,” I say, trying to be casual, “Ruth and Sara Lynn are just friends.” I emphasize the word
friends,
so he won’t misunderstand me.
    “Is that so?” Sam asks, and his eyes are twinkling like he wants to laugh. God! I always say the wrong thing. So what do I do? Like an idiot, I keep talking. And talking. And talking.
    “Yeah.” I nod. “I mean, they’d both like to get married someday. To guys, I mean. Well, at least Sara Lynn would. She won’t do it until she meets the right person, though. At least, that’s what she tells me when I ask her about it. She says, ‘Hope, I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than with the wrong guy.’” I can’t seem to shut up. My mouth is flapping and flapping, and all these words are gushing out. “And Ruth, ha! Ruth says she’s too stubborn to get married. Says she’d drive any man to booze.”
    Sam throws back his head and laughs, but I get the feeling he’s laughing with me and not at me, so I smile, too. “Hope,” he says, smiling down at me, “I can tell that you and I are going to have some fun together. What do you say we get started?”
    “Sure.” I shrug and unzip my racket case and hold my racket out in front of me.
    “Okay,” he says. “We’ll start with a basic forehand grip.”
    “Sara Lynn told me about the forehand,” I say. I fumble with the racket handle, trying to keep straight in my mind what I’m supposed to do with my thumb. Does it go over my fingers? Above them?
    “Here,” Sam says, arranging my fingers on the racket handle. “Try this. It might feel a little weird, but trust me, this grip will be automatic to you after a few lessons.”
    One thing I notice with Sam so close to me, touching my hand and all, is that he has a man’s smell. Well, he is a man. Duh. But, see, not having a dad or even an uncle,