Break Point by Kate Jaimet Read Free Book Online Page A

the other down. In between points, I looked at Maddy, her fingers gripping the chain-link fence, and energy surged through me again.
    At last we were tied at four games apiece on the final set. Mike was serving. The score stood at deuce when Mike double-faulted, giving me the advantage. Break point. It was my chance to pull ahead.
    Mike served. I blocked it back. He hit a whopper to my backhand. I returned it crosscourt. He blasted it to my backhand. I slammed it down the line. This wouldn’t be just another brutal baseline rally, I decided. This time, I was watching for an opportunity to surprise him. We exchanged blows twice more, and then I blasted the ball crosscourt to the corner. Mike reached it, but just barely. Here was my chance. I rushed the net. The ball soared toward me. I gave it a touch of underspin and dropped it dead into Mike’s forecourt. He pivoted, lunged, but he was too far away to reach it. The ball dribbled away, so soft and yet so deadly. Game, Connor.
    Maddy whistled. Mike slammed his racket on the ground. It was 5-4, and I was up a break. All I had to do now was hold serve to take the match.
    I faulted on my first serve out of sheer nervousness but whipped a hard second serve to Mike’s backhand. He hammered it back, hard and deep. Another baseline rally began. But things had changed. I had shown him I was willing to take a risk. I had a feeling he might be willing to take a risk too.
    I tried to keep him back at the baseline, but I could see he was trying to come up. He was cheating a few steps forward, looking for his chance to rush the net. Finally, he did. He tried a drop volley like I had played on him, but he couldn’t finesse it. He got too much power on the shot, and it landed midcourt. I scooped it up and sent it to an unprotected back corner. 15-0. Mike was seeing blood.
    I sent a monster serve caroming at him, and he hit it back, out of bounds. Maddy let out a holler like a wild jungle girl. 30-0. Mike took the next point on a jet-powered return. I took the next one with an ace up the middle. 40-15. Match point.
    At the baseline, I took a deep breath and gave the ball a few bounces, getting ready to serve. I watched it hit the ground next to the tip of my white tennis sneaker. I felt the sun blaze on the back of my neck. Blood pounded in my ears. I tossed the ball with my left hand and swung my right in a synchronized arc. My racket hit the ball at the top of the arc. I felt my arm come sweeping down on the follow-through. I saw Mike moving to block it. I knew the return was coming crosscourt. I felt my legs moving to the spot. I heard the perfect thwack of the ball. I felt it hitting my racket on the sweet spot. I saw it speeding down the line, and I saw Mike running for it. I saw his return come sailing at me, and I knew my next shot would go crosscourt to the opposite corner. I hit it there with the precision of a hawk striking its prey, and I was ready for Mike’s return. But it never came. Mike never reached the ball.
    Game, set, match. Somehow I staggered through the motions of a handshake. Somehow I stumbled off the court and into the arms of Maddy, who hugged me around the neck, laughing and jumping up and down. I held her tightly around her slim waist, thinking I had walked into a miracle— the miracle of beating Mike, the miracle of holding this girl in my arms.
    I only needed one more miracle today— the miracle of a win in the quarterfinals against Rex Hunter.

chapter nine
    Sometimes miracles don’t happen, especially when they involve a dead-tired underdog beating the top-ranked guy in the province. That afternoon, Rex wiped the floor with me.
    He took me in straight sets, his dad shouting and grinning like a fool from the sidelines. Even Maddy clapped when he won. I knew she had to because her mom was there and Rex was a member of our club. Still, it felt like a betrayal.
    Maddy and her mom invited me out for dinner that night, along with Rex