Page 24 of The Pickleball Girl Finds Her Match

Endy returned Maria’s hug. “Oh, believe me, I know …I know.”

Two stunning waitresses were at their table, obviously capturing Joel’s and Collin’s attention. All four of them, having fun flirting. Across the restaurant, the dozens of televisions blasted coverage of different sports, interrupted only by ads. Bartenders moved behind the bar, pulling yards of draft beer and salting rims of margarita glasses.

Sebastian limped up behind Endy and placed his hand on the small of her back.

He leaned in, his mouth near her ear. “I could hear you two screaming with laughter while I was in the men’s room.”

“You couldn’t!” Endy felt her face getting hot and turning red. “What did you hear?” She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to play it cool, and slid into the booth next to Joel. Maria took her seat next to Collin, and Sebastian slid in next to Endy.

He leaned in again and whispered, “Nothing.” He chuckled. “I didn’t hear anything except you girls cackling.”

“Thank god,” replied Endy, blowing out a deep breath, and shaking her head.

A slow grin played across Sebastian’s lips. “But now I definitely need to know what you were talking about.”

15

Endy stood between the courts watching the kids, while a loud, persistent honking blared from a car alarm in the nearby parking lot. Her shoulders felt tense, and she gnawed at her thumbnail.

She had spent the last hour of her workday going over the budget needed to keep Picklers going for another two years. The fundraising event was in a couple of weeks, and hundreds of invitations had already been sent out for the charity pickleball tournament that Endy had named the Paddle Battle. They were matching kids from the program with adults from Whisper Hills, as well as from throughout the Coachella Valley, who would buy onto the doubles team. But even with donations from a dozen local businesses, they still weren’t even close to the $25,000 the program needed. They desperately needed more sign-ups.

As director of racquet sports, Joel was already signed up to play. He would get to pick his junior partner, and Endy felt certain Joel would choose one of the more athletic boys. He had told Endy that he’d be by the Picklers’ practice that day to scout for his perfect junior partner.

The practice was well attended, with all fifteen courts filled with four kids each. Endy had grouped the kids by age more than by ability for practice but would be sensitive to pairing partners during the Paddle Battle so that play would be equal during the competition. That way, hopefully, everyone would have fun, and donors would reach deeper into their wallets.

She scanned the full courts when she heard the fight break out.

“You didn’t have to hit me in the face!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. You walked into my shot.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yeah, man, you did. But look, I’m sorry you got hit with the ball. It didn’t hurt that much, right?”

The boy glared at Paco and turned away to walk back to the baseline. Still at the net, Paco tossed the bright green plastic ball up and swiped at it with his paddle, sending the ball into the retreating kid’s back, right in the middle of the large zero printed on the back of his Celtics jersey. A devilish grin spread across Paco’s face.

“Who’s the little hothead?” asked Joel, coming up behind Endy.

“Paco Lopez,” replied Endy, chewing at the inside of her cheek. “He’s kind of uncontrollable … but really, he is crazy talented.”

“More like plain old crazy, if you ask me,” Joel replied. He looked over the courts, his arms crossed and lips pursed, occasionally nodding. The players on the court closest to them played cautiously, methodically trading shots.Dinka, dinka, dinka, dinka…dinka…dinka…dinka.

Joel made a gagging noise. “Are we going to be here all night until somebody actually makes a point?”

Endy shot him a glance, then rolled her eyes. “Just choose a partner, Joel.”

He looked to the middle court where Paco was hitting the pickleball into the fence repeatedly as his partners stood at the net with frowns plastered on their faces. Joel shook his head. “Yeah, no,” he said. “Hard pass.”

Endy sighed.

But then, Joel pointed to the farthest court at a tall athletic boy moving with sure, quick movements. “Who’s that?”

“Brayden Sato. His mom works over in admin at the clubhouse.”

“He’s good. How old?”

“Sixteen, seventeen sometime this spring.”

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