Read Online The Underdogs by Sara Hammel - Free Book Online Page B

letting him win. She smiled and shook her head .
    Meanwhile, oof was right. Patrick’s tennis wasn’t beautiful, not by a long shot. I have to work ten times harder than Goran to get the same result, he’d been acknowledging matter-of-factly for years. Goran, on the other hand, swaggered onto the court and his body naturally knew what to do, like he’d been born with a tennis racket in his hand. But the difference in their talent hadn’t mattered. They had a bromance for the centuries, and I hoped their mutual attraction to Annabel wouldn’t come between them.
    Goran and Patrick always practiced together after school and spent weekends at tournaments around New England. Through it all, Patrick helped Goran learn English. They’d come off the court for frozen yogurt and Gatorade, draping themselves over their table next to the TV and talking loudly about boy things. Goran had always kept his love life outside the club, which only added to his air of mystery. Until now.
    *   *   *
    The lobby fell silent at match point. Goran dove for a ball and flicked it back to Patrick, who watched the ball fly over his head, then ran back toward the curtain and performed a backward through-the-legs shot that sailed over the net. The lobby was in an uproar as Goran went for it, set up, and whaled the ball—straight into the net. It was Patrick’s game, set, and match, and Goran ran and leapt over the net like a racehorse, and the two sweaty players embraced in a quick hug. Goran rubbed his palm hard on Patrick’s head, and the lobby went wild. Annabel cheered the loudest, with Lisa a close second. I noticed Gene was now hanging in the background, smiling as his flock filled his club with laughter.
    Before the boys could come off court, Nicholas turned to his sister and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
    â€œWe shall.” She grinned and tucked her arm in his, getting out of Dodge. I think Annabel sensed both boys would run straight to her and she wanted to avoid that scenario.
    I loved seeing Annabel and Nicholas together. They were so beautiful, like stars that only got brighter when they collided. They walked through the lobby, turning every head that saw them coming, oblivious, as always, to the effect they had on the common people.
    That included the effect they had on Lisa, who was staring after them, her mind working on something that didn’t appear to be very nice, and it was pretty obvious why: she wanted to be princess of the club. But unfortunately, Annabel was in the way.

 
    After
    Lisa was supposed to be helping my mom run the front desk, but instead she was sitting there explaining her favorite new smart phone game to Patrick. Because of Gene’s insane no-technology-during-club-hours rule, she had to show him on a piece of old-fashioned paper.
    â€œSee,” Lisa was saying as Patrick leaned in close, “you slice ’em off. Whack .” With her purple pen she slashed a line through what was supposed to be a chicken’s neck. Then she scribbled in flourishes around the “chicken,” which looked more like a giant artichoke. “And blood goes everywhere.”
    â€œThat’s twisted.” Patrick screwed up his face. “Seriously, Lisa.”
    â€œWhatever,” she retorted, eyes at half-mast, leaning into him. Always the flirt. “Talk to me when you’re a vegetarian.”
    â€œLisa,” my mom chimed in from her stool, “don’t you have anything better to do than play a disgusting game like Chicken Heads? Like address those envelopes Gene gave you for the membership mailing?”
    â€œSure,” Lisa said. “But I’d rather hang out with Paddy.” She twirled her hair and rubbed his upper arm.
    Patrick, who’d had a fling with Lisa last summer that she never quite got out of her system, pulled away and said, “I gotta go. And don’t call me Paddy.”
    â€œWhoa.