Page 95 of Clean Point

‘Smile,’ Matteo reminded, my stomach twisting just as Sarah took a few shots. As soon as I registered the flash of the camera, the click of the photo being taken, my hand was around Scottie’s, pulling her away.

His voice rang through the crowd as he shouted after us, ‘Good luck.’

My anger was beating at me like a drum, a loud droning noise that threatened to erupt. But I knew I had to keep a lid on it, keep myself in check. Not here. Not now. She still had a match to win. I didn’t stop until we were back at the door, and there was barely another moment before her name was being called, the game almost ready to start.

‘Are you okay?’ She didn’t even look at me, her eyes pinned instead to the door. She nodded silently, but I could see it was gone – the confidence, the fight. She had been cut down just when she’d found it. Maybe that was the plan all along. Get in her head, under her skin. Take this from her again. Dread drained the blood from my face at the thought.

‘Scottie.’ Her name was a plea, but it worked, and her eyes met mine. I did my best to keep my anxiety under wraps, keep myself composed when all I felt like was storming back over and making that man pay for what he had done.

‘I’m fine,’ she snipped, pushing her hair back out, dragging her hands down her face. I could see her resolve flickering like embers of a dying fire. I took a deep breath in, trying to temper my panic. She could not go out there like this.

‘You can do this,’ I pressed, placing my hands on her shoulders to root her back in the moment. ‘Remember your game plan.’ Her hands met mine on her shoulders, palms pressing against the top of mine as if she needed the connection.

‘I know,’ she said, and I finally caught the spark, anger igniting and replacing the defeat in her eyes. ‘I’ve got this.’ Her name was called again, pressing the urgency with which she was expected on court, but her eyes stayed on mine.

‘Scottie Sinclair in the finals. You belong there. Fight for it,’ I pressed as her hands clenched around mine. She let go of a deep, shaky breath, the exhale calming her, bringing her back. I could see it now. She was here. She was back. She was mine.

Her eyes closed for a moment, before she took a step away, my hands releasing her shoulders as they confidently pushed back, chest out, and grabbed her bag from where it had been sitting waiting. ‘I’m ready. I can do this.’

And I believed her. I really did.

Sinclair vs Costa

Quarterfinals – Court 1

There were rare moments of beauty in life. Most of them pass you by before you even realize what you’ve seen. But watching Scottie Sinclair glide across Wimbledon’s centre court during the quarterfinals against Inés Costa was one where you immediately understood you were witnessing something special.

Inés took the first set, but Scottie the second, exploiting her weakness just as she had planned. Now in the third and final set, Inés was slowing, struggling to keep the strength in her returns. The match was still a fight, the umpire challenging to work with.

Throughout the match, he’d made it hard on Scottie, calling various infractions. Some were fair, like her serves called out, but others had left Scottie frustrated. He had handed out a few time violations for her taking too long during breaks, sometimes a foot fault when it seemed like her footing was nowhere near the baseline. Once even a net touch when it was hard to even see if it had happened.

She’d used her challenges where she felt confident the call was unfair, the hawk-eye camera helping to determine if the ball was actually out. But despite that, it was clear her annoyance was rising at him.

My anxiety watching her was sky-high, unable to keep myself from fidgeting, rubbing my clammy palms up and down the nylon material of my shorts.

When first I’d gotten to the box to find Jon already there, all the anger I had pent up exploded, demanding to know why he wasn’t with us. Jon, with a much cooler head than mine, waited until I had told him what had happened. A dark look had furrowed onto his face when I mentioned the photo, and he quickly disappeared again. When he returned, he’d informed me that Sarah had been dismissed and sent back to ELITE. Apparently, she’d claimed not to know the drama between Scottie and her dad, but I didn’t buy the excuse.

It was Scottie’s serve on game point, already up two points to Inés. I was mesmerized as her long body stretched up, and by the strength in her arms when her racket collided with the ball and she expertly sent it spinning over the net. My eyes were still trained on every tiny motion of her body as she moved from the service line. Inés sprung from her position, racket swung out wide to return, the ball just passing her as she missed when the umpire broke the hush over the crowd.

‘Fault!’

Despite the distance, I could see Scottie’s jaw locked in frustration, and behind her, even Inés looked to the umpire, her brows pressed together in confusion. Scottie challenged the call, her patience waning as she paced back and forth while the system processed the video from the camera. Inés, in the background, looked conflicted, gesturing slightly to the umpire as if she couldn’t make up her mind about speaking up.

The crowd around us began to clap as the video came into view, louder and louder as we followed the computer-generated trajectory of the shot. My hands curled into fists, agitation biting at me as the result came through.

OUT

My heart dipped at the result, some of the crowd jeering in delight. I tried to ignore them, immediately returning to Scottie, watching as she took a moment to pull herself together. Then, when she was ready, she pushed her shoulders back, shaking her head as if to shrug the mood away – a move I’ve watched her do a hundred times when my shit talking during practice was getting on her nerves. She’d shake me off and ruin me with a big serve.

And that’s exactly what she’d done next, the ball tracking system reporting her serve at an insane 114 mph as the ball slammed onto the opposite side of the court. Inés struggled to return it before finding her stride, and both began their back and forth.

Game point – Scottie. And they carried on to the next play.

Scottie waited for Inés to serve, clearly a little impatient for her to get on with it but letting her opponent take her time. It was known Inés was extremely superstitious; she had to have the right count in her head before she would begin.

Finally, she served, Scottie being quick to return the ball. But ultimately, Inés was able to catch her off-guard, rushing the net and volleying the ball out of Scottie’s reach.

15–0

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