Page 111 of Game Point
I could see her face in my mind’s eye, only a few hoursago, excited and ready to play. I knew she’d have a tough battle ahead, but … this couldn’t be right.
‘Yes.’ The journalist nodded, before clarifying. ‘Against Chloe Murphy. 6–1, 6–1.’
My heart broke for her. The tournament had barely begun and she was done? Instantly, it clicked in my head, the missed call from Scottie, and before I knew what I was doing, I pushed myself out of my chair.
I could barely get my words right as I apologized into the microphone, the room erupting around me. ‘Sorry, I need to go. No more questions. Thank you.’
I ignored the baying pack behind me, ignored the call of my name for a moment of my attention. It only took one glance at Oliver to note him moving to my side, following me off the platform and out of the doors, Scottie’s number dialled as I pressed my phone to my face.
‘Dylan!’ I heard her answer, her British accent only mildly annoying this time.
‘Where is she?’ I demanded as we disappeared into the arena again, searching for my friend.
37
Dylan
Good Girls – CHVRCHES
‘I swear, racket murder is the answer.’ Scottie twirled one in her hands, looking along its rim with a scary intensity, and for the first time I recognized that I might have underestimated the bloodthirst of Scottie Sinclair.
At least where rackets are involved.
‘No, I’m fine,’ Inés’ eyes were still red from when she’d surely been crying, not that she’d let any of us see her. We were standing in the car park after Scottie had the brilliant idea of teaching her to break a racket. Somehow, Inés had never done it.
‘It’s like therapy,’ Scottie stretched out for Inés to take the racket.
‘Have you ever consideredrealtherapy?’ Inés took it, inspecting it gently with her hands as if it was precious.
‘Been there. Done that. Got the badge. This is different. This is revenge.’
‘The racket wasn’t the problem, Scottie,’ Inés pressed.
‘No, it was that psycho on the other end of the court,’ I muttered. In the hours since the press conference, I’d caught some of the replays of their match, and as much as it hurt to admit, Inés hadn’t stood a chance. It had been the match of Chloe’s career – so far at least. Chloe had been fast. Lightning, making shots that even I wouldconsider fucked. She was ruthless and unrelenting and not once, not even when she won, did she crack a smile.
Scottie shook her head, a similar fear creeping into her eyes. ‘I can’t argue with that.’
‘Where did she come from anyway?’ Inés asked. That was the question we were asking ourselves. She was nobody at the start of this year, and now, we were all fucking terrified of her.
‘Hell?’ Scottie suggested.
‘Possibly,’ I said. I tried to consider what it was going to take to beat her. Now Chloe wouldn’t just be quick, she’d be confident, especially after crushing an established player like Inés.
‘Anyway,’ Scottie began. ‘The trick to this is to imagine her face on the floor, and slam your racket into it repeatedly until you feel better.’ She bent over showing Inés the position to gain the best momentum. It might look like an obvious thing but rackets are made to withstand a lot, you’ve got to hit them at the right part of the rim to get the most satisfying destruction.
Inés looked plainly between Scottie and I, her shoulders slumped. ‘What if I don’t feel better?’
I grinned at her. ‘Then we get you another racket.’
She held the racket against her shoulder. ‘This is stupid.’
‘It works,’ Scottie shrugged. We had briefly considered letting her drink her sorrows away, but since both of us were still competing, this felt like a better option. One that wouldn’t upset our coaches too much.
‘Look, really what does this fix?’ Inés asked. ‘I’m still going to have lost and I’ll be a racket down.’
‘Nothing,’ Scottie answered, ‘but it gets out that rage.’
‘What if I’m not angry?’ Inés retorted.
