Game, Set, and Match

Chapter One "You're a winner, Leo, and you have big dreams." Carrie Springsteen read her horoscope and sighed. "You get right where the action is, and don't you just love it when the spotlight is on you!" No! Carrie thought. Okay, so I have big dreams of winning in tennis, but that spotlight stuff-no way! She sat cross-legged on the grassy slope, reading her magazine. Although she had an August birthday, she didn't see herself as a typical Leo show-off. More of a shy type, really. "Good shot, Joey!" Hilary called across the net to the dark-haired kid she was coaching on a nearby court. Carrie glanced up, sighed again, and then closed her magazine. Joey's session was about to end. Me next, she thought. Her dad came down the steps from the clubhouse. "Hey, Carrie, why aren't you warming up? Come on, pick up your racket-summer vacation may have begun, but we can't have you slouching around." So she sprang onto her feet, and they headed to the practice court. For ten minutes Carrie hit a ball against the concrete wall. "Nice work!" her dad told her. "That backhand is really improving. Most grown- ups can't hit the ball that hard. Good job!" Carrie grinned at him. She felt good-ready to start work with Hilary. "Hi, Carrie!" The coach greeted her with a wide smile. "How's my star player?" "Great, thanks." Carrie took up her position across the net from Hilary. She checked her grip and waited for the first ball. Whack! She hit it in the middle of the strings and returned it fast and low. "Good shot!" Hilary called. She nodded and smiled. Yeah, that felt cool! Carrie pushed a stray strand of fair hair back from her face and tucked it into her ponytail. "Again!" Hilary instructed. Whack! Carrie played the same shot. It zoomed across the net. "Watch your position. Move your feet!" her dad shouted from the sideline. Carrie nodded. She crouched and waited. The next ball came toward her, and she hit it hard. "Nice one!" Hilary said, studying Carrie's backhand. They'd been playing for almost an hour without a break. Carrie's dad made sure that there was no "slouching around," as he called it. "Move your feet!" he had yelled over and over. "Come on, Carrie! Run!" It was hot. She was tired. The palm of her racket hand was sticky with sweat. "We've got the County Championship coming up this weekend," Martin Springsteen reminded Hilary. "Carrie needs to be at the top of her game." "She's playing really well," the coach told him. "Her backhand drive is her strongest shot. For a twelve-year-old player, it's the best I've seen." "Yeah, but she still has to work on the rest of her game." Carrie's dad wanted his golden girl to win. He was determined to make her the best. Ever since Carrie had been able to hold a tennis racket, he'd had his heart set on producing a Grand Slam champion. Hilary glanced up at the hot sun. "Let's take a break," she suggested. "No, we haven't had our full hour," Martin argued, checking his watch. "Keep playing, Carrie. You need to practice your serve." The hour of coaching was over at last. Carrie was in the changing room, getting ready to take a shower. She unlaced her tennis shoes anKing, Donna is the author of 'Game, Set, and Match ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780753460221 and ISBN 075346022X.