Page 22 of It Started at the Lake

“Losers buy drinks?” Henry points his paddle at Cam and me.

“Deal,” I say. “I hope your wallet is full. I’m going out with you guys tonight and I’m not cheap.”

Cam pretends to drop a mic.

Evie rolls her eyes. “Come on, let’s play.”

“We’ll serve first,” Henry says, standing behind the back line.

I stay in the middle of my square, slightly bending my knees, ready to move to wherever the ball lands.

Henry serves, bouncing it in Cam’s square. Cam hits it to Evie, who lets it bounce in her square before smacking it back to our court. We volley for a while before I put too much force behind a hit and knock it out of bounds.

Evie jumps. “Yes!”

I smack my paddle against my palm. “Ugh! Sorry, Cam. I hit that one too hard.”

“It’s early in the game, Mils.” Cam gives me a high-five. “We’ve got plenty of time to win.”

We switch spots and I serve perfectly to Henry, who smacks the ball to me. I hit it toward Evie, who tries to backhand it and misses.

“Ooohhh,” Cam taunts. “Nice try, sis.”

She shoots him a glare, then tosses the ball to me.

The game is heated—full of teasing, shouts of victory, and cries of despair. We’re evenly matched, and getting to eleven is taking so long, the grass grows an inch in the time it takes us to play. My legs burn, my lungs are on fire, and my breaths are short and choppy. Sweat trickles down my back, making my shirt clingy.

I’m ready for a break, but we’re tied ten to ten, and there’s no way I’m relenting. I was more than willing to let Evie win when we got our paddles in the garage. But not anymore. She’s playing like we’re in the Olympics instead of enjoying a friendly game with her family.

For most of my life, I tried keeping the peace. It was preferable to the silent rage I grew up with. The constant walking on eggshells, waiting for someone to explode at any minute. Since leaving home, I still willingly do whatever I can to defuse situations. But pacifist Millie is on vacation at the moment. Competitive-Millie is out, and she is determined to win against her smack-talking best friend.

“We’ve got this, Cam,” I say, going back to my spot in the center of my side of the court. We can score. As long as I don’t mess up again.

Cam blows on his knuckles, then rubs them on his chest. “I know we do.”

I grin, loving the glare Evie sends our way.

“Scared, Evs?” I tease.

She puts her hands on her hips. “Of you two? Puh-lease. Henry and I are just waiting for you two newbies to get cocky before we bring you down a notch.”

Henry chuckles. “Darn right, Evie. We’re going to smash these two.”

“From the look of things, Henry and Evelyn, you guys are about to lose,” Bennett says, smiling from the court he and Emerson played on.

“Told you,” I taunt.

Evelyn squints, points at her eyes, then stabs her fingers in my direction.

“Serve’s up,” Cam says, tossing the ball into the air before lobbing it across the court to Evie.

Evie sends it right to me. It’s the perfect hit for me to send it to their kitchen, where neither Evie nor Henry are standing. But I somehow stumble over my foot, completely missing the hit, and fall on my butt. The ball slowly bounces right next to me, as if mocking me for missing the easy target.

“Are you okay?” Cam comes over to me, offering a hand to help me up.

I stand, taking inventory of my body. Nothing hurts except my pride. “I’m good.”

“Our serve,” Evie says, signaling for me to toss her the ball.

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