old drafts and excerpts!
It was 2009 or 2010 when I started writing That's the Way the Racquetball Bounces. This first gallery of old excerpts and notes is what I wrote down in my small polka-dotted notebook after coming home from the racquetball club the day I came up with the idea for the book. As you'll see, some parts of the excerpts made it word-for-word into the published book! Please click through and read them (And if you can't read cursive, I apologize!)
I always had a ton of spiral-bound notebooks back then. I'd get a bunch of new ones every time they went on sale in the summer, and I'd always designate one for "Stories." Oftentimes, I'd end up using two or three of them for that purpose! One red notebook in particular ended up kind of becoming my That's the Way the Racquetball Bounces notebook, though it had excerpts from other stories I was writing as well.
Below are all of the excerpts I had in my red notebook. You can click through and read them! Excerpts from different parts of the story are separated by dotted lines. I'm pretty sure these excerpts were all written between 2009 and 2011. I specifically remember writing the tournament part at an actual tournament I attended in March 2010 (I wasn't in it, but my brothers both were).
Below are all of the excerpts I had in my red notebook. You can click through and read them! Excerpts from different parts of the story are separated by dotted lines. I'm pretty sure these excerpts were all written between 2009 and 2011. I specifically remember writing the tournament part at an actual tournament I attended in March 2010 (I wasn't in it, but my brothers both were).
I started typing the book in late 2010, incorporating the excerpts I’d already written and filling in the rest. It took me about two years of on-and-off writing to get to the part I was most excited about—the big breakthrough where Lynn and Jerr share their stories. After that, I wrote just a little bit more and then got stuck. I knew Lynn was going to be in the tournament, obviously, and that her family would show up and surprise her afterwards, but I was getting hung up on the logistics of everything. It was four years later that I decided to just plow through and finish the book. By this time, however, although I now had a completed first draft, there were several elements of the plot that I’d realized were unrealistic, and I had no idea how to remedy them. I let the book sit for another couple years before sitting down to figure everything out.
Where I stopped in 2012. I'd been so excited about the big reveal, I didn't really know what to do now that it was over.
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I wrote a little bit more in 2013, but you can see where I was running into problems.
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Deleted Scenes and Planning Stuff
short deleted excerpt
I try calling my parents after dinner, and again when I go to bed, but they don’t answer. So I figure out how to text on my cell phone and send a text to Mom: i dont need 2 go 2 guidance call the school and tell them that so i dont have 2 go. I send the text and then type out the same message to Dad. It takes me forever to type the messages out, because I’ve never texted before, and I keep messing up and having to start all over because I don’t know how to backspace. I also don’t know how to capitalize anything or use punctuation, so it comes out kind of reminding me of the way Jerr speaks. But at least it’s not quite that bad. I didn’t write “I doesn’t need to go to guidance” or anything stupid like that.
That's something you have to watch out for when you take a decade to write a book--the changes in technology! When I wrote this excerpt, Lynn had a flip phone, because it was 2010 and most 11-year-olds, if they had phones at all, had flip phones. I really wanted to include this excerpt in the final draft, because I liked the part about it sounding like how Jerr speaks, but by 2020, I figured it would be more relatable for Lynn to have a cheap smartphone.
That's something you have to watch out for when you take a decade to write a book--the changes in technology! When I wrote this excerpt, Lynn had a flip phone, because it was 2010 and most 11-year-olds, if they had phones at all, had flip phones. I really wanted to include this excerpt in the final draft, because I liked the part about it sounding like how Jerr speaks, but by 2020, I figured it would be more relatable for Lynn to have a cheap smartphone.
A deleted scene - Lynn's last day of school in Idaho
The last day of school is awkward. My teacher, Mrs. Grotton, gets up right after we say the Pledge of Allegiance, and says, “Class, today is a very sad day for us. It’s Lynn’s last day with us for a while.”
Everyone turns to look at me. Some look curious, others look surprised, others look just vaguely interested. My friends Mandy and Elizabeth stare at me with big, sad eyes. “Are you moving?” someone asks.
I don’t know how much to tell them. I’m not sure how much I want them to know. I’ve kept pretty quiet about everything lately. My classmates know my brother’s in the military, but not that he’s gone missing. A few of them know my dog died recently, but I don’t think everyone does. And nobody knows about what happened to Saga. I don’t really talk to anyone much anymore, except for Mandy and Elizabeth at lunch, and the group of kids I play kickball and 4-square with at recess. But with Mandy and Elizabeth, it’s more like faking laughs at their stories and looking surprised when they say something interesting, and when playing kickball and 4-square, we pretty much only talk about whether the ball was foul or fair, whether someone is safe or out. Mrs. Grotton maybe knows a little bit about my life from my parents, but to everyone else, I’m just the same old Lynn Waley they’ve known since kindergarten, good at school and sports, bad at singing, normal and happy home life.
Ha. If they only knew. But I’m glad they don’t, because then they’d ask questions, and I’d have to answer them, and I’m much better off not even thinking about it. Pretending I’m the same as I’ve always been.
Which is why I’m not so pleased that Mrs. Grotton has just announced to the class that it’s my last day in their class for a while. She could have at least cut out the “for a while” part.
Part of me really feels like lying. Telling them I’m going to be homeschooled, maybe, or transferring to one of the private schools in surrounding towns. But that wouldn’t work, because at least a few of them live in my neighborhood and would see that nobody was ever home at our house.
“Yeah, I’m moving,” I answer, although it still doesn’t seem real to me. “To Manhattan.”
Of course, I’m still barraged with questions. “Is it your dad’s job?” “When are you actually moving?” “Today?”
“I’m leaving in two days. On the thirteenth. I won’t be in school tomorrow because I need time to pack.”
“Is your house all empty now? Is everything in boxes? Does it feel weird?” a boy named Charlie, who just moved here last year, calls out.
I’m not quite sure how to answer that. “Um…well…we actually, kind of, still own our house. We just…well, the—the new house is ready. Right now. So we’re leaving…um, moving in…and our house isn’t sold yet. So I’m just packing the essentials.” It’s sort of the truth, hedging around the fact that we are not even planning to sell our house, and that I’m just going to live with my grandparents, and that I’ll only be gone for a few months at most. Maybe by the time I’m back, everything will be resolved and I’ll be able to tell them the real reason I’d left, where I was going and all that.
Everyone seems to accept my lame excuse, and nobody notices the fact that I’m twisting my hands together under my desk out of nervousness.
At lunchtime, a bunch of kids surround me. It seems they all want to sit next to me for my last day, or what they think is my last day, at school. Everyone tells me how much they’ll miss me, and Mandy shares her brownie with me and Elizabeth gives me her entire apple. Everyone’s asking me questions, but, fortunately, the lunchroom is noisy and echo-y, so I have an excuse for not being able to hear everyone. I answer the easy questions, like, “Are you going to live in an apartment?” (answer: yes), and feign deafness on the ones I really don’t want to answer, such as, “Why are you moving?”
At recess, everyone wants me on their team for kickball. I’m used to being fairly popular when we play sports, because I’m athletic and well-coordinated, but I’ve never had everybody want me on their team. I end up playing on both teams, switching off. I’ve never played this way before, but it works to my advantage because I don’t have to do the boring standing-around parts, only the fun action-packed parts.
We go in after recess and do a lab science activity. Everyone wants me as their partner. Mrs. Grotton finally just assigns partners and I end up with my friend Matt. It turns out to be really fun, because we mix chemicals in little test tubes and watch them change color and fizz. I feel kind of sad that I’m leaving just as science is finally starting to get really interesting.
After science is read-aloud, in which Mrs. Grotton reads two more chapters of Peter and the Starcatchers. I’m kind of disappointed I won’t be here to hear the rest of it. I guess I’ll have to check it out from the library sometime.
We have about five minutes of clean-up/get ready to go home time after she finishes reading, and then, before I know it, the day is over. My last day of school here in Idaho. Possibly my last day ever at Vincent Elementary.
As we separate into bus, carpool and walker lines, kids are hugging me and patting me on the back and saying stuff like, “Good luck, Lynn!” and, “I’ll miss you!” Mandy and Elizabeth both give me their addresses and phone numbers and tell me to write to them and call them. I give them Grampa and Nana Suzie’s address too, only because they asked for the address of my “new house.” As I am slipping into the carpool line—“carpool” in my school’s sense only means that you get picked up by your parents or whoever you live with—Mrs. Grotton calls me over to where she is standing, a little apart from all the students.
“Lynn,” she says when I reach her, “It was truly a pleasure having you in my class. You were such an excellent student, always so diligent and respectful. I’m sure you’ll do just as well in your new school.” I nod and thank her. She continues, lowering her voice, “And I hope you have a wonderful time at your grandparents’ house. Your mother said they have a racquetball court nearby that you’ll get to go to.”
Of course. So they did tell her. “Yep,” I say. “My grandfather helped found it. He works there now, in the office.”
“Well, that’s wonderful. I’m glad you’ll be able to play racquetball more often. I know how much you love it.”
I nod again.
“And,” she continues, lowering her voice even more, “I’ll be praying for your brother. And for your parents as they go search for him. I hope everything turns out okay.”
I try not to let the tears appear in my eyes at the fact that she said nothing about Saga. Of course, Mom and Dad must not have mentioned her to Mrs. Grotton. But I think of all the times I mentioned my little sister in class, back at the beginning of the year when everything was fine, and a new thought pops into my head: Or maybe everyone just wants me to forget about her.
“I’ll be praying for you too,” Mrs. Grotton tells me. “I hope everything goes along smoothly for you. I know you’re a wonderful person and you'll do just fine no matter what happens.”
She gives me a hug and then lets me get back in line. Kids crowd around me, still giving me their well wishes. It’s weird being around people you’ve known since kindergarten, who think they’re never going to see you again, when you know full well that you’ll see them again in a few months. I let them think they’ll never see me again, though, because it’s easier than having to explain the truth.
We get out of the building, and, to my relief, my mom's Subaru is one of the first cars in the pickup line. I wave good-bye to everyone and say, “I’ll miss you guys!”, and then open the door and hop in the car. Kids are still waving and calling out to me as we drive away.
This scene was part of the first draft I wrote in 2010 or 2011, once I started typing the book. In that version, it took four chapters for Lynn to even get to New York. I got rid of this chapter because it didn't actually add anything important to the story. The story is about Lynn's experiences in New York with her grandparents and Jerr and the kids in her new school, not about her friends in Idaho.
Everyone turns to look at me. Some look curious, others look surprised, others look just vaguely interested. My friends Mandy and Elizabeth stare at me with big, sad eyes. “Are you moving?” someone asks.
I don’t know how much to tell them. I’m not sure how much I want them to know. I’ve kept pretty quiet about everything lately. My classmates know my brother’s in the military, but not that he’s gone missing. A few of them know my dog died recently, but I don’t think everyone does. And nobody knows about what happened to Saga. I don’t really talk to anyone much anymore, except for Mandy and Elizabeth at lunch, and the group of kids I play kickball and 4-square with at recess. But with Mandy and Elizabeth, it’s more like faking laughs at their stories and looking surprised when they say something interesting, and when playing kickball and 4-square, we pretty much only talk about whether the ball was foul or fair, whether someone is safe or out. Mrs. Grotton maybe knows a little bit about my life from my parents, but to everyone else, I’m just the same old Lynn Waley they’ve known since kindergarten, good at school and sports, bad at singing, normal and happy home life.
Ha. If they only knew. But I’m glad they don’t, because then they’d ask questions, and I’d have to answer them, and I’m much better off not even thinking about it. Pretending I’m the same as I’ve always been.
Which is why I’m not so pleased that Mrs. Grotton has just announced to the class that it’s my last day in their class for a while. She could have at least cut out the “for a while” part.
Part of me really feels like lying. Telling them I’m going to be homeschooled, maybe, or transferring to one of the private schools in surrounding towns. But that wouldn’t work, because at least a few of them live in my neighborhood and would see that nobody was ever home at our house.
“Yeah, I’m moving,” I answer, although it still doesn’t seem real to me. “To Manhattan.”
Of course, I’m still barraged with questions. “Is it your dad’s job?” “When are you actually moving?” “Today?”
“I’m leaving in two days. On the thirteenth. I won’t be in school tomorrow because I need time to pack.”
“Is your house all empty now? Is everything in boxes? Does it feel weird?” a boy named Charlie, who just moved here last year, calls out.
I’m not quite sure how to answer that. “Um…well…we actually, kind of, still own our house. We just…well, the—the new house is ready. Right now. So we’re leaving…um, moving in…and our house isn’t sold yet. So I’m just packing the essentials.” It’s sort of the truth, hedging around the fact that we are not even planning to sell our house, and that I’m just going to live with my grandparents, and that I’ll only be gone for a few months at most. Maybe by the time I’m back, everything will be resolved and I’ll be able to tell them the real reason I’d left, where I was going and all that.
Everyone seems to accept my lame excuse, and nobody notices the fact that I’m twisting my hands together under my desk out of nervousness.
At lunchtime, a bunch of kids surround me. It seems they all want to sit next to me for my last day, or what they think is my last day, at school. Everyone tells me how much they’ll miss me, and Mandy shares her brownie with me and Elizabeth gives me her entire apple. Everyone’s asking me questions, but, fortunately, the lunchroom is noisy and echo-y, so I have an excuse for not being able to hear everyone. I answer the easy questions, like, “Are you going to live in an apartment?” (answer: yes), and feign deafness on the ones I really don’t want to answer, such as, “Why are you moving?”
At recess, everyone wants me on their team for kickball. I’m used to being fairly popular when we play sports, because I’m athletic and well-coordinated, but I’ve never had everybody want me on their team. I end up playing on both teams, switching off. I’ve never played this way before, but it works to my advantage because I don’t have to do the boring standing-around parts, only the fun action-packed parts.
We go in after recess and do a lab science activity. Everyone wants me as their partner. Mrs. Grotton finally just assigns partners and I end up with my friend Matt. It turns out to be really fun, because we mix chemicals in little test tubes and watch them change color and fizz. I feel kind of sad that I’m leaving just as science is finally starting to get really interesting.
After science is read-aloud, in which Mrs. Grotton reads two more chapters of Peter and the Starcatchers. I’m kind of disappointed I won’t be here to hear the rest of it. I guess I’ll have to check it out from the library sometime.
We have about five minutes of clean-up/get ready to go home time after she finishes reading, and then, before I know it, the day is over. My last day of school here in Idaho. Possibly my last day ever at Vincent Elementary.
As we separate into bus, carpool and walker lines, kids are hugging me and patting me on the back and saying stuff like, “Good luck, Lynn!” and, “I’ll miss you!” Mandy and Elizabeth both give me their addresses and phone numbers and tell me to write to them and call them. I give them Grampa and Nana Suzie’s address too, only because they asked for the address of my “new house.” As I am slipping into the carpool line—“carpool” in my school’s sense only means that you get picked up by your parents or whoever you live with—Mrs. Grotton calls me over to where she is standing, a little apart from all the students.
“Lynn,” she says when I reach her, “It was truly a pleasure having you in my class. You were such an excellent student, always so diligent and respectful. I’m sure you’ll do just as well in your new school.” I nod and thank her. She continues, lowering her voice, “And I hope you have a wonderful time at your grandparents’ house. Your mother said they have a racquetball court nearby that you’ll get to go to.”
Of course. So they did tell her. “Yep,” I say. “My grandfather helped found it. He works there now, in the office.”
“Well, that’s wonderful. I’m glad you’ll be able to play racquetball more often. I know how much you love it.”
I nod again.
“And,” she continues, lowering her voice even more, “I’ll be praying for your brother. And for your parents as they go search for him. I hope everything turns out okay.”
I try not to let the tears appear in my eyes at the fact that she said nothing about Saga. Of course, Mom and Dad must not have mentioned her to Mrs. Grotton. But I think of all the times I mentioned my little sister in class, back at the beginning of the year when everything was fine, and a new thought pops into my head: Or maybe everyone just wants me to forget about her.
“I’ll be praying for you too,” Mrs. Grotton tells me. “I hope everything goes along smoothly for you. I know you’re a wonderful person and you'll do just fine no matter what happens.”
She gives me a hug and then lets me get back in line. Kids crowd around me, still giving me their well wishes. It’s weird being around people you’ve known since kindergarten, who think they’re never going to see you again, when you know full well that you’ll see them again in a few months. I let them think they’ll never see me again, though, because it’s easier than having to explain the truth.
We get out of the building, and, to my relief, my mom's Subaru is one of the first cars in the pickup line. I wave good-bye to everyone and say, “I’ll miss you guys!”, and then open the door and hop in the car. Kids are still waving and calling out to me as we drive away.
This scene was part of the first draft I wrote in 2010 or 2011, once I started typing the book. In that version, it took four chapters for Lynn to even get to New York. I got rid of this chapter because it didn't actually add anything important to the story. The story is about Lynn's experiences in New York with her grandparents and Jerr and the kids in her new school, not about her friends in Idaho.
some notes i made in 2016 during my first major round of edits:
At the beginning: “It’s like a house of sadness, Lynn, and it’s crushing you.”
So… parents have gone to work out custody battles about Saga, but Lynn doesn’t know this. Zachary was in the military (but not missing) and Lynn was always worried about him dying. Probably at the beginning she should be wondering why her parents have left her. Do they even care about me?
The reason why her parents didn’t tell her: they didn’t want to get her hopes up. what if it doesn’t work out? What if we can’t get custody? And we don’t want to take her with us because it’s going to take a long time, we’ll be in and out of court constantly, and we don’t want her to have to miss a bunch of school…plus, of course, the reasons we’re actually telling her. we want her to be somewhere else for a while and not have so much sadness and worry.
AHA! Maybe they can all take a plane to Grampa and Nana Suzie’s house, and then the parents’ flight takes off that night—which won’t make much sense to Lynn or the reader, but at the end you learn that they were actually flying to Florida, not back home…
Maybe you could keep the disinfecting the house etc too, for the same reason. Or maybe not. I don’t know.
Could probably condense chapters 1-4 into only three chapters.
So yeah. Racquetball tournament happens over the course of probably one or two chapters. Lynn plays Jerr and a few other kids. Some are easy, some are hard, different playing styles, yadayadayada. At one point Nana Suzie is talking on her cell phone (mentioned in passing).
They get home from the racquetball tournament and Lynn is in high spirits because she got 2nd place in her age bracket! (Jerr got first). There is a message light blinking on the answering machine. Grampa pushes PLAY and Nana Suzie is like, “NO! We don’t want Lynn to hear that!” and Lynn hears the first couple words which are something like, “Zach is…” and then she runs to her room.
Wait, but actually… Nana and Grampa both have to know about the surprise. Maybe Nana went home at some point during the tournament, toward the end. Grampa tells lynn we have to wait until nana gets back before we can leave. “Why did she leave?” Grampa says maybe something about getting dinner started. Or maybe they should go out for dinner… maybe with Jerr and his grampa… yeah, probably that would be good. They go out to eat with Jerr and Gramps, and then Nana gets a call and says “I have to go home right away” and Lynn is really worried… but grampa and nana wouldn’t want to make her worried… anyway, nana goes home first, and then lynn and grampa do, and lynn sees the blinking light on the answering machine, and maybe she presses it and it’s from the parents and the first couple words say something about zach. Then Grampa shuts it off and lynn thinks zach died or something. Then she runs to her room and opens the door and zach, mom, dad, and saga are all sitting on her bed.
Is it overkill to have all of them there? zach AND saga?
No, because saga is the reason the parents were gone, and they ended up picking zach up as well after he got hurt….
They got a call while they were in florida. Zach has been discharged from the military because (maybe he really messed up his arm or something? Maybe he’s in PT? but I don’t want it to be something too bad because then he’d have to be in PT for a long time…
Zachary was in the army. He was discharged because
REMEMBER THE TOURNAMENT IS TWO DAYS!
So… chapter 20—first day of tournament
21—second day, yay I’m so happy I did well in the tournament, wait, why is the answering machine blinking, why are grampa and nana suzie acting weird, I run to my room IT’S MY FAMILY!!!!!
22—explanation, leaving? Or leaving, explanation? Or just explanation, and then leaving can be chapter 23?
End of book—excerpt I have in my red notebook where they’re getting in the taxi to go home, and she says bye to Jerr. Boom. I think that can be the ending.
So… parents have gone to work out custody battles about Saga, but Lynn doesn’t know this. Zachary was in the military (but not missing) and Lynn was always worried about him dying. Probably at the beginning she should be wondering why her parents have left her. Do they even care about me?
The reason why her parents didn’t tell her: they didn’t want to get her hopes up. what if it doesn’t work out? What if we can’t get custody? And we don’t want to take her with us because it’s going to take a long time, we’ll be in and out of court constantly, and we don’t want her to have to miss a bunch of school…plus, of course, the reasons we’re actually telling her. we want her to be somewhere else for a while and not have so much sadness and worry.
AHA! Maybe they can all take a plane to Grampa and Nana Suzie’s house, and then the parents’ flight takes off that night—which won’t make much sense to Lynn or the reader, but at the end you learn that they were actually flying to Florida, not back home…
Maybe you could keep the disinfecting the house etc too, for the same reason. Or maybe not. I don’t know.
Could probably condense chapters 1-4 into only three chapters.
So yeah. Racquetball tournament happens over the course of probably one or two chapters. Lynn plays Jerr and a few other kids. Some are easy, some are hard, different playing styles, yadayadayada. At one point Nana Suzie is talking on her cell phone (mentioned in passing).
They get home from the racquetball tournament and Lynn is in high spirits because she got 2nd place in her age bracket! (Jerr got first). There is a message light blinking on the answering machine. Grampa pushes PLAY and Nana Suzie is like, “NO! We don’t want Lynn to hear that!” and Lynn hears the first couple words which are something like, “Zach is…” and then she runs to her room.
Wait, but actually… Nana and Grampa both have to know about the surprise. Maybe Nana went home at some point during the tournament, toward the end. Grampa tells lynn we have to wait until nana gets back before we can leave. “Why did she leave?” Grampa says maybe something about getting dinner started. Or maybe they should go out for dinner… maybe with Jerr and his grampa… yeah, probably that would be good. They go out to eat with Jerr and Gramps, and then Nana gets a call and says “I have to go home right away” and Lynn is really worried… but grampa and nana wouldn’t want to make her worried… anyway, nana goes home first, and then lynn and grampa do, and lynn sees the blinking light on the answering machine, and maybe she presses it and it’s from the parents and the first couple words say something about zach. Then Grampa shuts it off and lynn thinks zach died or something. Then she runs to her room and opens the door and zach, mom, dad, and saga are all sitting on her bed.
Is it overkill to have all of them there? zach AND saga?
No, because saga is the reason the parents were gone, and they ended up picking zach up as well after he got hurt….
They got a call while they were in florida. Zach has been discharged from the military because (maybe he really messed up his arm or something? Maybe he’s in PT? but I don’t want it to be something too bad because then he’d have to be in PT for a long time…
Zachary was in the army. He was discharged because
REMEMBER THE TOURNAMENT IS TWO DAYS!
So… chapter 20—first day of tournament
21—second day, yay I’m so happy I did well in the tournament, wait, why is the answering machine blinking, why are grampa and nana suzie acting weird, I run to my room IT’S MY FAMILY!!!!!
22—explanation, leaving? Or leaving, explanation? Or just explanation, and then leaving can be chapter 23?
End of book—excerpt I have in my red notebook where they’re getting in the taxi to go home, and she says bye to Jerr. Boom. I think that can be the ending.
A deleted/changed excerpt (2010, 2011, or 2012) that never made it into the actual book
. This time, I don’t even try to reason with him. I turn around and, after peeking in each of the other courts and seeing that they are already occupied, I walk upstairs to the snack bar.
One of Grampa’s friends is working there. I don’t remember his name, but I know I’ve met him before. I give him a tight smile and sit down at the bar.
“Hi, Lynn,” he says. “Just get out from a grueling match?”
I shrug and don’t answer.
“Well, would you like anything to eat? It’s on the house for you.”
I shake my head. I’m not stupid or greedy. I know full well that the snacks Grampa and his friends buy to fill the snack bar are paid for with their own money, not the member fee. The money people pay to be members here, as well as the money they earn from selling snacks, goes to paying the electric bill, the water bill, and all that maintenance stuff, as well as paying the employees. They don’t have enough money to be giving out free snacks.
“You look like all you want to be doing right now is playing racquetball.”
I look up, surprised that I am so easy to read. “I do want to play racquetball. It’s just that all the courts are occupied.”
The snack bar guy frowns. “I thought your grandfather reserved a court for you. I seem to remember a sign going up saying that nobody could go on that court from three to six or something.”
“Well, apparently Jerr doesn’t know how to read.”
His eyebrows go up. “Jerr? Jerr Birings? As in Seth Birings’ grandson?”
I shrug. “I guess so.”
“Well, why in the world do you not want to play him? He’d be the perfect person for you to play! I bet you two would be a good match for each other.”
I shake my head.
“Why not? You guys are about the same age, and from what I’ve heard from your grandfathers, you both are really good players.”
I don’t answer at first. Then I mutter, “He…beat…me.”
The snack bar guy—I really should have asked him his name—looks at me incredulously. “He beat you? And that’s why you don’t want to play him? That’s the reason you should play him, Lynn! Show him who’s boss. You have nothing to lose. Playing someone who beat you is the best way to become a better player.”
I sigh. I guess he’s right. I go downstairs, watch Jerr through the glass until he loses the ball, then open the door and step on. “I’m going to play racquetball on my court,” I say, placing emphasis on the word my. “If you want to play a match against me, you may. If not, please leave.” I glare at him, hoping he can tell I have zero patience today.
He just shrugs. “Okay,” he says. So we play. I am determined not to lose this time.
But of course I do.
One of Grampa’s friends is working there. I don’t remember his name, but I know I’ve met him before. I give him a tight smile and sit down at the bar.
“Hi, Lynn,” he says. “Just get out from a grueling match?”
I shrug and don’t answer.
“Well, would you like anything to eat? It’s on the house for you.”
I shake my head. I’m not stupid or greedy. I know full well that the snacks Grampa and his friends buy to fill the snack bar are paid for with their own money, not the member fee. The money people pay to be members here, as well as the money they earn from selling snacks, goes to paying the electric bill, the water bill, and all that maintenance stuff, as well as paying the employees. They don’t have enough money to be giving out free snacks.
“You look like all you want to be doing right now is playing racquetball.”
I look up, surprised that I am so easy to read. “I do want to play racquetball. It’s just that all the courts are occupied.”
The snack bar guy frowns. “I thought your grandfather reserved a court for you. I seem to remember a sign going up saying that nobody could go on that court from three to six or something.”
“Well, apparently Jerr doesn’t know how to read.”
His eyebrows go up. “Jerr? Jerr Birings? As in Seth Birings’ grandson?”
I shrug. “I guess so.”
“Well, why in the world do you not want to play him? He’d be the perfect person for you to play! I bet you two would be a good match for each other.”
I shake my head.
“Why not? You guys are about the same age, and from what I’ve heard from your grandfathers, you both are really good players.”
I don’t answer at first. Then I mutter, “He…beat…me.”
The snack bar guy—I really should have asked him his name—looks at me incredulously. “He beat you? And that’s why you don’t want to play him? That’s the reason you should play him, Lynn! Show him who’s boss. You have nothing to lose. Playing someone who beat you is the best way to become a better player.”
I sigh. I guess he’s right. I go downstairs, watch Jerr through the glass until he loses the ball, then open the door and step on. “I’m going to play racquetball on my court,” I say, placing emphasis on the word my. “If you want to play a match against me, you may. If not, please leave.” I glare at him, hoping he can tell I have zero patience today.
He just shrugs. “Okay,” he says. So we play. I am determined not to lose this time.
But of course I do.
