by Lin Oliver
“Sammie,” she called. “What are you doing out here?”
“Talking to Alicia. My new friend.”
“Hi, new friend. I’m Charlie, her other half. Beautiful shirt.”
“Wow,” Alicia answered. “You two really do think alike. That was the first thing Sammie said to me, too.”
“So what’s with you two?” Charlie said, tugging on my arm. “Come on and dance. It’s really fun. I’ll introduce you to some of the group.”
Before I could answer, Charlie grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the deck. I turned around and waved for Alicia to come along, but she shook her head.
“I’m going to help my dad with the burgers,” she said. “See you later.”
Charlie pushed me out into the center of the dance floor. “This is my sister, Sammie,” she said to the kids who were standing around. “She’s the best dancer of us all.”
I looked over at the group of guys who were on the beach with me, remembering what they said and how bad they’d made me feel. I tried to sway with the music just so I wouldn’t stand out, but Ryan wasn’t going to let me be inconspicuous.
“Shake that thing, Sam-I-Am,” he shouted. Then he went into one of his “power moves” and all the attention turned off me and onto him. When I realized that no one particularly cared if I danced or not, I got into it and didn’t feel so self-conscious. I kind of freestyled on my own. After a while, I realized that the music was great, the beach breeze was blowing, the gorgeous moon was coming out, and I was having a good time. While I didn’t feel totally at home with these kids, I did like it when Dan, the redheaded pitcher, offered to get me a Sprite.
At one point, I saw GoGo bringing the blue tray of brownies to put on the dessert table. She got the biggest smile ever on her face when she saw Charlie and me dancing and mixing with the other kids. Isn’t it amazing how us being even a little bit happy can make our families jump for joy?
When the deejay took a break and it was time for dinner, I looked around for Alicia, but I couldn’t find her anywhere. I did see Candido bringing in a platter of burgers from the barbecue.
“Where’s Alicia?” I asked him.
“Oh, Alicia, she go home,” he said. “I don’t understand why, but she say she leaving.”
I felt terrible. Maybe he didn’t understand why she left, but I did. After all, only an hour before, standing there on the edge of the dance floor with no one talking to me, I had been ready to leave, too. It’s the hardest thing in the world, feeling like you don’t belong. I wished I had insisted that she come dance with us.
I sat next to Charlie at dinner, and at our table were the boys from the beach: Spencer, Jared, Ben, and the General. Jillian seemed to do a lot of posing for a camera that wasn’t there. Charlie was having a good time talking to the boys, but I didn’t join in much. I didn’t trust them. After all, they had already said that I was the less-hot version of Charlie. How was that supposed to make me feel? Not like carrying on a big old conversation, that’s for sure.
Truthfully, the only person I really felt comfortable with the whole night was Alicia, and she had snuck out without anyone even so much as noticing.
No one except me, that is.
The Tournament
Chapter 4
“Sammie, stop daydreaming. They’re calling your name,” my dad said, tapping me on the shoulder to get my attention.
It wasn’t so much that I was daydreaming, more that I was just plain tired. It was Sunday at eight in the morning. We were in the courtyard of the Sand and Surf Tennis Club, waiting for the tournament to begin, and I had been up for two hours already. Dragging myself out of bed at six in the morning to warm up before the tournament was a shock to my delicate system. So it was no wonder I didn’t notice the loudspeaker calling our names.
“Under-Fourteen Girls,” the voice over the loudspeaker blared. “Samantha Diamond and Charlotte Diamond versus Alexis Ha and Michelle Trippet. All entrants report to court nine.”
Charlie handed me my gear and, with our dad talking to us nonstop with last-minute pointers, we headed down the concrete path to our court. GoGo was there, but Ryan wasn’t coming until lunchtime. Apparently Ryan had to wait for some friend to arrive, so he was coming in time for our second match.
The Sand and Surf Tennis Club was only a couple miles up Pacific Coast Highway from the Sporty Forty. The Sporty Forty was pretty nice, but this place was a majorly deluxe club, where old-school rich people hung out—the kind of place that had dress codes and social rules. Like no cell phones are allowed around the pool. And you can’t wear shorts in the café. I think we can all agree that there is no point whatsoever to being at the beach if you can’t wear shorts. For that reason alone, the Sand and Surf Tennis Club has never made any sense to me at all.
But because they had ten tennis courts that were almost brand-new, it’s where the Tennis Association held the big satellite tournaments. Charlie and I had recently played in three tournaments there and had done really well. We just had to win two more matches and that would give us enough points to get a state ranking and move up to the divisional circuit. My dad was practically frothing at the mouth to see us get that ranking. Actually, I’m not exactly sure what frothing means, but whatever it is, I’m pretty sure he was doing it.
It goes without saying that he wasn’t happy with me for daydreaming when I should have been all pumped up for our first match of the 12th Annual Sand and Surf Club Satellite Classic. Even I have to admit, it was a poor time to not be paying attention. My mind is like that, though. It doesn’t always cooperate. It has that in common with my hair.
As we headed to court nine, all I could think about was how hot it was. There was no beach breeze and, even at that hour of the morning, the sun beat down on the back of my neck and felt like it was turning my sunscreen into a gooey mess. Our mom had called from Boston that morning to remind us to slather on plenty of sunscreen. She’s what you’d call a sunscreen nut. After I promised her I would, I squirted on a huge glob of it, but as I reached up to touch the chemistry experiment that was my neck, I now regretted that I hadn’t measured it out more carefully.
Charlie and I were wearing matching outfits, pink, pleated skorts and white tops. We had both pulled our dark-blond hair back in ponytails, and I had put on a visor in the hope of keeping some of my sweat from pouring into my eyes.
Dad couldn’t stop talking. He was in his super-duper, intense, motivational coach mode.
“You girls have all the skills you need to win,” he said as we reached the gate to the court. “Just keep your heads in the game. Go all out for every shot. Want to win, and you will.”
GoGo was walking a little in back of us, carrying a cooler with Gatorade and energy bars. She had on a huge, wide-brimmed straw hat with a leopard-print scarf tied around it. Two women in white tennis outfits and neat, white visors, obviously members of the club, were walking down the path, and I noticed one of them giving GoGo’s hat a long stare. GoGo smiled warmly at her.
“That’s quite some hat,” the woman commented.
“Thank you,” GoGo answered. “I like your headgear, too.”
“GoGo,” I whispered as the women passed by. “I don’t think she actually liked your hat.”
“Oh, Sammie, in her secret heart, I’ll bet she did. You know, girls, everyone longs to be an individual, but most people don’t have the courage to stand up and be different.”
“Phyllis,” my dad said to her, “the girls shouldn’t be thinking about hats right now. I want them concentrating on one thing and one thing only. And what is that one thing, girls?”
“Winning,” we said in unison.
“Honestly, Rick,” GoGo said to Dad. “You make it sound like all the world depends on this match. You put such pressure on these girls.”
“Because I believe they can be as great
as Serena and Venus Williams. Imagine, two sisters who became the best in the world. And in our case, it would be twin sisters. Sammie and Charlie Diamond would rock the whole tennis world.”
Notice he said the whole tennis world. Not the Los Angeles tennis world. Or the California tennis world. Or even the US tennis world. The WHOLE tennis world.
Right, no pressure there.
“The girls want that, too,” he added. “Right, Charlie?”
She nodded. She was biting her lower lip like she does when she’s really concentrating on her math homework. It’s a habit that’s part of getting her game face on.
“Agreed, Sammie?” he said, giving me a high five.
I high-fived him back, then tried to concentrate on winning. I really wanted Dad’s words to inspire me, but the truth was, I wasn’t feeling that confident today. Maybe because it was our first big match since Mom had left for Boston. I didn’t have her to calm me down and give me a hug before we went out on the court. Or maybe I was still thinking about that magical number: one two six and a half. Just knowing that I weighed too much made me feel heavier on my feet. As we entered the court, I concentrated on overcoming that feeling.
I have always been a really fierce competitor. Most everyone likes the feeling of winning, but for Charlie and me, it’s even more special because we get to share the victory. To look at each other and know that we’re a team, that one of us couldn’t have done it without the other—it’s so great. And the last thing I wanted today was to let her down.
You can do this, Sammie. You are light on your feet. You will fly like the wind. You will win.
My dad gave us a few final words of advice, then he and GoGo went to the stands. Coaches and families aren’t allowed on the court during games, only during breaks between sets. That’s a good rule, because otherwise, I swear he’d be giving us instructions before, during, and after every shot.
Charlie and I shook hands with the umpire and with the opposing players, Alexis Ha and Michelle Trippet. They had driven up from Orange County, and since we had never played them before, we didn’t know what we were up against.
As it turned out, we weren’t up against much. They were new to the tournament circuit and didn’t give us much of a challenge. In women’s tennis, you play the best of three sets. If you each win one set, it’s called split sets, and you go on to play a third. But if one team wins the first two sets, you don’t even have to play a third. And that’s what we did. We beat them two sets in a row, and in the second set we were so dominant that the score was six games to love. In tennis, they call zero love, which is something I’ve never understood. It seems to me like love should be a million or a trillion, not zero.
“You guys are great,” Alexis said when we shook hands after the match.
“I bet you’re going to go all the way,” her partner, Michelle, said as the four of us walked off the court together.
“We certainly hope so!” It was my dad, who had leaped from the stands and come down to the sidelines to meet us. He was so excited, you’d think we had just won the US Open. I was embarrassed because Alexis and Michelle weren’t really that good—it didn’t seem right to be so thrilled about beating them. My dad says I lack the “killer instinct.” I suppose I do, but that doesn’t seem like such a bad thing to me.
GoGo handed us each a bottle of blue Gatorade and gave bottles to Michelle and Alexis, too.
“You girls did just fine,” she told them. “You’ll improve with each tournament.”
They had been looking pretty dejected, but after GoGo’s remark, their faces lit up and they each shook her hand before they walked away to meet their families. Charlie reached over and gave GoGo a hug.
“You’re the best,” she whispered to her, and I couldn’t have agreed more.
Since our next match wasn’t scheduled until after lunch, we all went inside the clubhouse to cool off and hydrate. Charlie and I called Mom and told her we’d won, and she screamed so loud, I swear everyone in the club could hear her through the telephone. She said we should call her right after our second match—by that time her cheese soufflé would be out of the oven and she could listen to all the details.
We sat down, and from our chairs by the window we could see onto the center court where the Under-16 Boys were playing singles. I got so involved in watching the match—okay, I confess: so involved in watching the cute guy with the dimples and black Nike headband—that I was surprised when Ryan came up to greet us. I hadn’t seen him coming.
Nor had I seen who was walking next to him: It was Lauren Wadsworth.
You’re kidding me, Ryan. She’s the friend you’re bringing? What happened to your old friends, like weird Winston Chin who can juggle chopsticks? He is way more fun.
Charlie jumped up and gave Lauren a hug like they had known each other for years. I hadn’t realized they had bonded so deeply the night before.
“Lauren, hi!” she said. “Wow, it’s great to have you here!”
“I really want to see you guys play,” Lauren told us. “Charlie, you look so awesome in that outfit. And Sammie . . . I hear you have a powerful backhand.”
Okay, I don’t want to be mean here, but let me just point out two things. First, she didn’t tell me I looked awesome in the outfit, and it was the same outfit Charlie was wearing. And second, I’m willing to bet that until she developed what seemed to be a huge crush on Ryan, Lauren Wadsworth couldn’t have cared less about my backhand.
“It’s been known to score a point or two,” I said.
“My mom sent some lunch for everyone.” Lauren put a stack of wrapped sandwiches down on the table. “Tuna, turkey, roast beef. Take your pick.”
Before anyone could reach out to make a selection, my dad’s hand was in there first.
“This one is best for you,” he said, handing me a sandwich. “Turkey. Good, lean protein.”
Oh, great. Right in front of Lauren Wadsworth, he’s talking about my weight problem. Real sensitive, Dad.
“Turkey is so healthy,” Lauren chimed in immediately. “My grandmother is doing Weight Watchers, and that’s what she always orders. Turkey, extra mustard, no mayo. She’s lost forty pounds. You’d really like her, Sammie.”
Wait—did she just say I’d like her grandmother? Why? Because we both weigh a ton? Oh, just kill me now.
I hadn’t planned to say anything, but suddenly, my mouth lost control of itself.
“Why would I like her, Lauren? Because we’re both overweight? Because we’re both stuck eating turkey when everyone else gets to eat whatever they want?”
“Sammie,” Charlie said, looking really surprised. “I don’t think that’s what Lauren meant.”
“I think it is,” Ryan commented. “She wasn’t trying to be mean, dudes. She’s just saying it like it is.”
Another remark that was so totally not okay.
“Listen, Lauren,” I said before I could stop myself. “Nothing against you or anything, but this is a really important tournament, and I think we should just be with our family.”
Lauren looked really hurt and embarrassed. She put down her tuna sandwich and started to stand up.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Ryan invited me, and I thought it was okay for me to be here. I’ll call my mom to come get me.”
She started to walk away, but Charlie reached out and pulled her back.
“Wait, Lauren, I want you to stay.” Charlie turned to me. “Sammie, I invited her, too. Lauren wants to see us play, and she’s my friend, and I have every right to invite her here.”
I was stunned. Charlie hadn’t mentioned that she had invited Lauren. She hadn’t even asked me if it was okay. That was so weird, because she had had plenty of time to mention it when we were getting ready for bed.
But I really couldn’t argue with Charlie. Of course she had the right to ask a fr
iend. And of course I had no business telling her she couldn’t. It was just that Lauren made me so uncomfortable. When I was with her, I felt fat and sweaty and . . . well, I don’t know, imperfect.
“You’re right, Charlie,” I said with a sigh. “Of course she can stay.”
Everyone went back to eating, and I just stared down at my stupid, dry turkey sandwich. The last thing I wanted to be doing was stuffing in it my face just like old Grandma Wadsworth did. So I excused myself, got up, and headed for the bathroom. When I came out, GoGo was waiting for me at the door. She took me by the elbow and led me outside to the Sand and Surf parking lot that was crammed with Mercedes and BMWs.
“You can talk to me, Doodle,” she said. “What’s bothering you?”
“I’ll be honest, GoGo. I wish Lauren weren’t here. She makes me nervous.”
“She’s being perfectly nice to you, Sammie. She could be a new friend, if you’d let her.”
“She doesn’t want to be my friend. She wants to be Ryan’s girlfriend, and she’s just using Charlie and me to get close to him.”
“Are you sure about that?” GoGo said. “Because that’s a pretty big accusation.”
“Why else would she come here and be all nice and bring lunch and everything? She’s so different from us.”
“Charlie doesn’t seem to think so. They’re getting along fine.”
I tried to think of a good reason for my behavior. I couldn’t think of one, but fortunately it didn’t matter, because my dad was standing at the entrance to the club, waving.
“Sammie!” he called across the parking lot. “You girls are up! Hustle in here.”
I ran across the lot, past an attendant who was washing one of the member’s cars. Some of the spray from his hose blew into my face, and it felt great.