glanced over to the pole where the pigeon was resting and saw it jerking
its head first one way and then the other as it seemed to peer at him out of one eye and then out of the other.
What a pet he'd make,
Kevin thought. He had never had a pet, not a dog or a cat or a gerbil, or even a turtle. Neither his mother nor his father
cared for animals around the house. As for Ginnie, she was on the go so much she'd never have time to spend with an animal,
anyway.
Stare at me, will you?
Kevin thought.
I ought to knock you off that pole with a tennis ball, you feathered nut.
Kevin laughed to himself, and Ginnie nudged him. “What's funny?” she asked.
“What?” he said. “Oh — nothing.”
“Honest,” she said, “you
are
a dilly.”
“O.K.!” Ben Switzer yelled. “Ready for the second set!”
It was Rusty's serve. He took the first two games, then lost the next two. Kevin, feeling that Lady Luck was with him, won
three more in a row. Rusty rallied and copped the next two games. 4-5, Kevin's favor.
Kevin went to the bench and sat there until the last second when Ben Switzer yelled, “Come on, Kev! Let's go!” and got him
to his feet. Kevin saw that Ginnie had her fingers and ankles crossed, and her eyes closed.
Hope that silly stuff works,
he thought.
His heart pounded like a drum as the ball boy handed him the two required tennis balls. Ginnie was right, he thought. He
had
to win. If he lost this game, it would mean that he'd have to play at least two more. The way he felt he'd be worthless in
both, and Rusty would come out the winner.
“Ready?” he said.
“Ready,” Rusty replied.
Taking a deep breath, then expelling it, Kevin tossed up one of the balls, rose on his tiptoes and gave the fuzz-covered sphere
a belt that drove it across the net directly at Rusty. Rusty ducked, a smile coming over his face as he yelled, “Fault!” even
before the ball hit beyond the baseline.
Kevin made the next serve good. Rusty returned it, hitting the ball gently, carefully. The ball dropped softly over the net
and Kevin, running in fast, slammed the ball back into Rusty's forecourt with such force that Rusty couldn't get near it.
15-love.
After that Kevin could see that his getting the first point had taken the wind out of Rusty's sails. He won the game easily,
the set, 6–4, and the match.
“Congrats, brother!” Ginnie cried, running across the court and throwing her arms around him. “I
knew
you'd do it!”
“I suppose it was because you crossed your fingers and ankles,” said Kevin as he pushed her hands off him.
“And shut my eyes,” she added, her eyes sparkling. “Nice game, Rusty,” she said as Rusty came forward, hand extended to Kevin.
“Don't kid me, Gin,” he said. “I was lousy. Good game, Kev.”
“Thanks, Rusty.”
“Well …” Rusty sighed. “It was either you or I against Roger on Friday. I've never beat him yet. Have you?”
“A couple of times … last year,” Ginnie answered quickly for her brother. She began dragging him away as she chattered on,
smothering whatever it was Rusty was going to say. “Good luck in your next game, Rusty! You are improving a great deal! You
really are! That serve could be a real ace if you could develop it a little more!”
Kevin stared at her as he let her drag him off the court and to the street.
“Ginnie! When did I ever beat Roger?” he asked, jerking his sleeve loose from her hold.
“O.K., I lied,” she said, her voice an octave lower.
“Lied? I guess you did!”
“Oh, don't say it as if I had just robbed the New Laswell Bank,” she blurted. “I wasn't far wrong. You were close to beating
him
twice.
”
“But still — that's not winning!”
A chuckle that sounded like a horse laugh came from behind them, and Kevin looked around to see who it was. The closest people
were a foursome some thirty feet behind them. But they each seemed to be engrossed in their own business.
Kevin turned to his
its head first one way and then the other as it seemed to peer at him out of one eye and then out of the other.
What a pet he'd make,
Kevin thought. He had never had a pet, not a dog or a cat or a gerbil, or even a turtle. Neither his mother nor his father
cared for animals around the house. As for Ginnie, she was on the go so much she'd never have time to spend with an animal,
anyway.
Stare at me, will you?
Kevin thought.
I ought to knock you off that pole with a tennis ball, you feathered nut.
Kevin laughed to himself, and Ginnie nudged him. “What's funny?” she asked.
“What?” he said. “Oh — nothing.”
“Honest,” she said, “you
are
a dilly.”
“O.K.!” Ben Switzer yelled. “Ready for the second set!”
It was Rusty's serve. He took the first two games, then lost the next two. Kevin, feeling that Lady Luck was with him, won
three more in a row. Rusty rallied and copped the next two games. 4-5, Kevin's favor.
Kevin went to the bench and sat there until the last second when Ben Switzer yelled, “Come on, Kev! Let's go!” and got him
to his feet. Kevin saw that Ginnie had her fingers and ankles crossed, and her eyes closed.
Hope that silly stuff works,
he thought.
His heart pounded like a drum as the ball boy handed him the two required tennis balls. Ginnie was right, he thought. He
had
to win. If he lost this game, it would mean that he'd have to play at least two more. The way he felt he'd be worthless in
both, and Rusty would come out the winner.
“Ready?” he said.
“Ready,” Rusty replied.
Taking a deep breath, then expelling it, Kevin tossed up one of the balls, rose on his tiptoes and gave the fuzz-covered sphere
a belt that drove it across the net directly at Rusty. Rusty ducked, a smile coming over his face as he yelled, “Fault!” even
before the ball hit beyond the baseline.
Kevin made the next serve good. Rusty returned it, hitting the ball gently, carefully. The ball dropped softly over the net
and Kevin, running in fast, slammed the ball back into Rusty's forecourt with such force that Rusty couldn't get near it.
15-love.
After that Kevin could see that his getting the first point had taken the wind out of Rusty's sails. He won the game easily,
the set, 6–4, and the match.
“Congrats, brother!” Ginnie cried, running across the court and throwing her arms around him. “I
knew
you'd do it!”
“I suppose it was because you crossed your fingers and ankles,” said Kevin as he pushed her hands off him.
“And shut my eyes,” she added, her eyes sparkling. “Nice game, Rusty,” she said as Rusty came forward, hand extended to Kevin.
“Don't kid me, Gin,” he said. “I was lousy. Good game, Kev.”
“Thanks, Rusty.”
“Well …” Rusty sighed. “It was either you or I against Roger on Friday. I've never beat him yet. Have you?”
“A couple of times … last year,” Ginnie answered quickly for her brother. She began dragging him away as she chattered on,
smothering whatever it was Rusty was going to say. “Good luck in your next game, Rusty! You are improving a great deal! You
really are! That serve could be a real ace if you could develop it a little more!”
Kevin stared at her as he let her drag him off the court and to the street.
“Ginnie! When did I ever beat Roger?” he asked, jerking his sleeve loose from her hold.
“O.K., I lied,” she said, her voice an octave lower.
“Lied? I guess you did!”
“Oh, don't say it as if I had just robbed the New Laswell Bank,” she blurted. “I wasn't far wrong. You were close to beating
him
twice.
”
“But still — that's not winning!”
A chuckle that sounded like a horse laugh came from behind them, and Kevin looked around to see who it was. The closest people
were a foursome some thirty feet behind them. But they each seemed to be engrossed in their own business.
Kevin turned to his
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