guys.â As she spoke, she looked behind me, her eyes searching the empty path to court eleven. âSo, whereâs Ryan?â she asked ever so casually.
âHe couldnât be here,â Charlie answered. âVolleyball practice.â
âOh,â Lauren said, a little frown starting to form around her mouth.
âBummer,â Jillian added.
âThat sucks,â Brooke noted.
âBut the important thing is that weâre all here together,â Charlie said. âRight?â
âRight,â Lauren nodded, doing a really poor job of concealing her disappointment. âSo . . . do you think Ryanâs coming later? Not that it matters, of course.â
âHe doesnât have a way to get here,â Charlie said. âSo I think youâre stuck with just me today.â
She laughed like she was making a joke, but I noticed that the other three girls didnât laugh. They just went back to their Frappuccinos and took their seats on the bleachers. Charlie and I went out on the court to warm up.
We had only been hitting a few minutes when our competition showed up. Anna Kozlov and Marjorie Shin were from the SoCal Racquet Club in San Diego. We had played them before, and they were really good. Kozlov was a hitting machine with a monster serve, and Shin was quick and fast with some of the best reflexes at the net Iâd ever seen. Charlie and I ran up to say hello and shake hands with them.
âSorry weâre a little late,â Anna said. âWe got hung up at the registration desk.â
âYeah, there was a whole commotion going on there,â Marjorie added.
âLike, what kind of commotion?â I asked, aware of an uncomfortable feeling that was taking hold in the pit of my stomach.
âThere were these three kids who were trying to get into the club,â Marjorie went on. âThey had on totally the wrong clothesâno collared shirts and black-soled tennis shoes. Naturally, the club officials wouldnât let them in.â
âI think they were from Mexico or something,â Anna said. âI felt bad for them, especially for the one guy who had a messed-up foot.â
That was all I needed to hear. Without a word, I raced off the court and ran at top speed down the cement path and into the lobby of the beach club where Mustache Man and his sidekick Ted were still sitting on their velvet chairs.
âDid you kick out my friends?â I demanded.
âTheir attire did not meet club standards,â the one called Ted answered.
âWell, I think your standards are stupid,â I yelled, and before I could go on, I felt a firm hand on my arm, tugging me away from the desk. It was my dad.
âCalm down, Sammie,â he said. âGoGo is with Alicia and the boys now. Everythingâs okay.â
âWhere are they?â
âI gave them some money to go get ice cream,â he said. âCandido had already left, so GoGoâs going to walk them down the beach to the snack bar while you and Charlie play. Everybodyâs happy.â
âHappy? How can you say that, Dad? Iâm not happy, and Iâm sure theyâre not happy. They just got kicked out of here. I bet they were totally embarrassed and just wanted to sink into a hole and disappear.â
âSammie,â my dad said, taking my face in his hands and directing my attention toward him, âyou have a big match to play. Now settle down and focus. Nothing terrible happened to your friends.â
âOh, really? How would you like to get booted out by those two old stuffy dudes because you donât have a collar on your shirt? Iâd say thatâs pretty terrible. Collars are stupid, anyway. They donât serve any purpose except to hold those stupid clothes tags, which are totally annoying.â
I was yelling, and several members of the Sand and Surf Club were looking at me with raised eyebrows. I overheard one lady with a
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