After school, Lily stepped onto the tennis court, the whispers of an excited crowd in her ears, ready to take on Eliza. Her dad’s advice about trying new stuff suddenly came to mind. Well, if this wasn’t new, she didn’t know what was.
“Alright, let’s get to the rules,” Zoey said, taking charge. “I negotiated a one-set match. First to win three games wins the set and therefore the match. To win a game, you must score four points. You have to win by two, so if it gets to three–three you then keep playing until one of you wins by two. Got it?”
“Uh, sure,” Lily said. “I guess so.”
“Good luck,” Preston said, showing up as if he’d just popped out of a rabbit hole. “I’ll be cheering for you.”
“We’ll have to discuss an extra payment plan for that one,” Zoey reminded him.
With that, Lily and Eliza took their positions on the court. A pony-tailed girl was appointed the referee, and a coin toss (which Lily lost) set the game in motion.
Lily opened with a powerful serve, sending the ball flying across the net. To her amazement, she nailed it perfectly on her first try. However, her luck ran out quickly as Eliza returned the shot with ease, curving it into an impossible angle—one that Lily was unable to reach in time. The point went to Eliza.
“My god, you’re terrible at this,” Eliza said. “You might as well give up now and save yourself the embarrassment.”
Never one to give up easily, Lily served again. This time, Eliza returned with a deceptive bounce that was anything but straightforward. Despite her best efforts, Lily failed to connect properly and sent the ball flying out of bounds.
Ignoring the comment, Lily readied for her second serve. She hit the ball harder this time, aiming for the corner. But yet again, Eliza had an answer, tapping the ball just so to create a deceptive bounce. Lily lunged for it, only to watch helplessly as the ball flew out of bounds. Another point for Eliza.
The rest of the game didn’t go any better. Usually a picture of Zen, Lily found that the bitter pill of losing was one she, like everyone, had difficulty swallowing.
Eliza’s serves seemed to have a magical effect—no matter where Lily anticipated the ball going, it always seemed to zigzag away at the last minute. Lily just kept missing the ball. Before she knew it, the set was over, and the game belonged to Eliza.
The two girls returned to the sidelines for a break. Frustration, a feeling almost alien to her, was what Lily grudgingly acknowledged in that moment. And the murmuring of the crowd did nothing to ease the blow.
“You’re still in it,” Zoey said. “You can still come back in the next set and win this thing. Your reputation is on the line here. Gotta use that kung fu, or whatever it is.”
Lily, however, wasn’t so sure. Her brain churned with possibilities, desperately seeking the solution to the puzzle. Then, suddenly, her grandpa’s voice rang in her head - “Be like kung fu, Lily. Strong and fluid, able to adapt to any situation. Don’t look for the obvious. Use your instincts.”
It all made sense. All along, Lily had been too focused on guessing the ball’s every move that she forgot to rely on her own intuition. Now it was time to use it.
“Trust my instinct,” she whispered.
“Say what now?” Zoey said.
Lily and Eliza stepped back onto the court for the second set. Lily readied herself, loosening her body and clearing her mind. Her racket held tightly, she stood in a well-practiced stance - feet parallel, arms bent, legs grounded. She was ready.
The set began with Eliza serving a high, deep ball. Lily closed her eyes, listening, trusting her instinct. With hardly a moment’s hesitation, she leaped into a spin and returned the ball with surprising speed and accuracy. Eliza was caught off guard, and the ball found its way past her before she could even lift her racket. A point to Lily!
From then on, it was Lily’s show. With each elegant lunge, twirl, and jump, she dazzled the crowd. Eliza’s shots, though still unpredictable and tricky, held no secrets for Lily. Instinctively, she raced the balls down and kept them in play. And if the way Eliza slammed her racket into the ground was any indication, she was more than just a bit irritated.
Finally, it was the last serve. With a single swing and a decisive thud, Lily sent the ball flying across the court. Eliza’s return was equally remarkable, an impressive curve that seemed destined to land in the back corner. That is, until Lily, using a quick movement that seemed almost impossible, sent the ball right back. The game was hers, and the crowd roared its approval.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Zoey cheered as Lily returned to the sidelines. “I knew you could do it. One more set and you got this!”
But Zoey might have rung the victory bell too soon, because the third set played a whole different tune. Where there had been a hint of nervousness in Eliza’s eyes, there now burned a flame of sheer determination.
Lily was still able to return Eliza’s shots, yet each time, Eliza followed through with her own miraculous counter. They went on, shot after shot, attack and counterattack, with no sign of an end. The game had become an endless back and forth, a thrilling battle of skill and will.
After ten long minutes of this, however, Lily’s muscles ached and fatigue set in. Eliza, too, seemed to be showing signs of weariness. The initial spark of the match had fizzled out, leaving the crowd’s attention drifting like so many tennis balls.
It was then that Lily saw her chance. Eliza had returned an awkward shot, one that was slow and off-balance. In a single, decisive motion, Lily sped across the court and met the ball head on with a powerful, well-placed hit. The ball flew straight to Eliza, who was in perfect position for a counter, yet without the strength to make it. The ball knocked the racket from her hands and sent her flying to the ground.
Channeling the drama of a boxing match, the appointed referee counted down, “5–4–3–2–1–”, and the game was over.
“You did it!” Zoey said, running to Lily’s side. “You knocked her down like a champ!”
But victory felt bittersweet. In fact, the sight of Eliza, a shadow of her usual self, pushing herself up, sparked a pang of empathy in Lily. In that moment, it felt only natural for her to walk over and offer her hand in a gesture of sportsmanship.
“Congrats,” Eliza said with a forced smile. “You’ve officially won the prize—Preston. I hope you’re happy now. He’s all yours. I’ll just go cry in a corner somewhere, don’t mind me.”
“Actually,” Lily said, feeling the need to set things straight. “I have no interest in Preston whatsoever. Just thought I’d let you know.”
In less time than it takes to blink, Eliza's face went through a whirlwind, before landing on stunned. “What? But…but Preston said…”
“Preston is an idiot,” Zoey said. “And let’s be honest, it’s probably not worth wasting any more brain cells on him. Just move on and focus on something actually worth your time.”
Yet, even as the words reached her ears, Eliza already seemed to have skipped to the next scene in her mind’s ever-changing script. Her eyes had now taken on the look of relentless obsession, like some crazy cat chasing a laser pointer.
“Wait, so that means I don’t have to give up,” she said, a manic smile spreading across her face. “I can still win him, right? I just need to try harder, that’s it. I’ll try harder and show him I’m the one. Yes! That’s it! I know exactly what to do now!”
And with a cry of ‘Preston!’, she dashed off like a shot, her sudden burst of energy leaving Lily and Zoey speechless.
