next.”
He looked at her, then took a swallow of water from the fountain and returned to the court. Why did she have to remind him
of that, anyway?
Rusty broke Kevin's serve and won the next game, making it two games apiece.
Kevin clamped his lips tightly in disgust as he heard the crowd applaud for Rusty. He had played badly in that game, and he
blamed it on Ginnie. She had reminded him that the winner of today's match would play Roger Murphy, and Roger's name had stuck
in his mind like a scary movie. Few guys had the ability to knock off Roger on the tennis court, and Kevin was not one of
them. At least not yet. Why did she have to open up her mouth, anyway?
He tried to push Roger out of his mind as the next game started, and managed to buzz ahead of Rusty, love-30, before Rusty
seemed to know what was happening. Then Rusty scored on a blistering hot serve that Kevin missed by a foot. 15–30. Kevin took
the next two points, though, and won the game.
“Three more to go and it's your set,” said Ginnie as he came and sat down on the bench beside her.
“Three more is a lot,” he said. “I wish it was just one more.”
“Oh, Kev,” said Ginnie, her hands squeezed tightly on her lap. “That's your trouble. A defeatist attitude.”
“Oh. That what it is?”
He knew that that's what it was, too. But he could not admit it. Especially to her.
Coo-coo! Coo-coo!
The sound barely registered with Kevin as he thought about going back on the court to start the next game. Then it came again,
and this time he looked for its source.
He saw it, a grayish-white pigeon that was perched on top of the pole in the southwest corner of the court. Its broad wings
spread out, and for a moment Kevin thought that it was going to fly off. Then it closed its wings about its round, plump body
and relaxed as if it had come to watch and enjoy the game.
Coo-coo! Coo-coo!
it chanted again.
“Even that pigeon is laughing at me,” Kevin murmured.
Ginnie giggled. “You're a dilly,” she said.
“O.K., boys!” said Ben Switzer, the playground director. “Let's go!”
Kevin got two balls from the ball boy, for now it was his turn to serve. He stood in position, tossed up a ball and rose to
meet it on his tiptoes, his racket held high. Bang! The ball blazed across the net like a shot.
Rusty met it with the face of his racket, driving it back. As it struck the court and bounced up, Kevin lashed at it with
a hard, two-handed stroke. Racket met ball squarely and sent it buzzing back.
Oh, no! Kevin almost screamed as he saw the ball streak for the top of the net.
It hit the net and dropped softly on the other side.
“Darn!” Rusty yelled.
There was a brief applause, then silence. A moment later the silence cracked as a voice said, “What a cheap shot
that
was.”
The remark made Kevin angry. He turned and stared at Roger. Someday he'd show that wise guy!
2
K EVIN TOOK THE NEXT two points, making the score 40-love, and prepared for what could be his last serve of the game. It was a solid drive to
Rusty's left side.
Rusty shifted his racket and dealt the ball a hard, backhand blow. The return was good. The ball barely cleared the net and
bounced close to Kevin's right sideline. Then, even as Kevin hit the return, he knew the shot was a bad one. The ball sliced
off to the left, curving outside the baseline. A point for Rusty.
Saved you from a skunking!
Kevin thought.
That was the only point Rusty scored, though, and the game went to Kevin. He finished off nicely in the next two games, winning
the set, 6-2.
“Well, that's one set for you,” said Ginnie as Kevin plunked himself down beside her. “And you'll take the next one. You've
got to.”
“Oh, sure,” said Kevin dismally.
“There you go. That defeatist attitude again,” said Ginnie coldly. “Can't you be
positive
for a change?”
“O.K., O.K. I'm positive. All right?”
He didn't know why he did it, but at that moment he
He looked at her, then took a swallow of water from the fountain and returned to the court. Why did she have to remind him
of that, anyway?
Rusty broke Kevin's serve and won the next game, making it two games apiece.
Kevin clamped his lips tightly in disgust as he heard the crowd applaud for Rusty. He had played badly in that game, and he
blamed it on Ginnie. She had reminded him that the winner of today's match would play Roger Murphy, and Roger's name had stuck
in his mind like a scary movie. Few guys had the ability to knock off Roger on the tennis court, and Kevin was not one of
them. At least not yet. Why did she have to open up her mouth, anyway?
He tried to push Roger out of his mind as the next game started, and managed to buzz ahead of Rusty, love-30, before Rusty
seemed to know what was happening. Then Rusty scored on a blistering hot serve that Kevin missed by a foot. 15–30. Kevin took
the next two points, though, and won the game.
“Three more to go and it's your set,” said Ginnie as he came and sat down on the bench beside her.
“Three more is a lot,” he said. “I wish it was just one more.”
“Oh, Kev,” said Ginnie, her hands squeezed tightly on her lap. “That's your trouble. A defeatist attitude.”
“Oh. That what it is?”
He knew that that's what it was, too. But he could not admit it. Especially to her.
Coo-coo! Coo-coo!
The sound barely registered with Kevin as he thought about going back on the court to start the next game. Then it came again,
and this time he looked for its source.
He saw it, a grayish-white pigeon that was perched on top of the pole in the southwest corner of the court. Its broad wings
spread out, and for a moment Kevin thought that it was going to fly off. Then it closed its wings about its round, plump body
and relaxed as if it had come to watch and enjoy the game.
Coo-coo! Coo-coo!
it chanted again.
“Even that pigeon is laughing at me,” Kevin murmured.
Ginnie giggled. “You're a dilly,” she said.
“O.K., boys!” said Ben Switzer, the playground director. “Let's go!”
Kevin got two balls from the ball boy, for now it was his turn to serve. He stood in position, tossed up a ball and rose to
meet it on his tiptoes, his racket held high. Bang! The ball blazed across the net like a shot.
Rusty met it with the face of his racket, driving it back. As it struck the court and bounced up, Kevin lashed at it with
a hard, two-handed stroke. Racket met ball squarely and sent it buzzing back.
Oh, no! Kevin almost screamed as he saw the ball streak for the top of the net.
It hit the net and dropped softly on the other side.
“Darn!” Rusty yelled.
There was a brief applause, then silence. A moment later the silence cracked as a voice said, “What a cheap shot
that
was.”
The remark made Kevin angry. He turned and stared at Roger. Someday he'd show that wise guy!
2
K EVIN TOOK THE NEXT two points, making the score 40-love, and prepared for what could be his last serve of the game. It was a solid drive to
Rusty's left side.
Rusty shifted his racket and dealt the ball a hard, backhand blow. The return was good. The ball barely cleared the net and
bounced close to Kevin's right sideline. Then, even as Kevin hit the return, he knew the shot was a bad one. The ball sliced
off to the left, curving outside the baseline. A point for Rusty.
Saved you from a skunking!
Kevin thought.
That was the only point Rusty scored, though, and the game went to Kevin. He finished off nicely in the next two games, winning
the set, 6-2.
“Well, that's one set for you,” said Ginnie as Kevin plunked himself down beside her. “And you'll take the next one. You've
got to.”
“Oh, sure,” said Kevin dismally.
“There you go. That defeatist attitude again,” said Ginnie coldly. “Can't you be
positive
for a change?”
“O.K., O.K. I'm positive. All right?”
He didn't know why he did it, but at that moment he
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