Chapter Text
It was Hot with a capital “H”, and Amity hated it.
It was the Hexside tennis team's first match of the season, and the temperature had decided that being anything less than triple-digits was overrated. The afternoon sun beat mercilessly down on the courts, and there was hardly so much as a weak breeze to wick away the sweat gathering on the back of her neck.
Amity was already draining the last of her gatorade when Boscha jogged over from the court she’d been practicing on, no doubt trying to get out of helping the rest of her group pick up the many balls strewn about the concrete. She braced herself for the inevitable headache.
“You ready to crush those Gravesfield losers?” she asked.
Amity gave a non-committal hum, screwing the cap on the now empty bottle and shoving it back in her backpack. Boscha wasn't deterred.
“I wish Hermonculus would've picked a better team for our opening match. Ugh, like, c'mon, even Glandus would be more competition,” she paused for a moment, as if looking for the other girl’s reaction, “I heard they haven’t even gotten their uniforms yet,” she laughed, the sound grating on Amity’s ears, as she wiped invisible dirt off of her pristine white tank top.
Amity had to repress the urge to roll her eyes. Ever since her freshman year, when Coach Hermonculus had ordered them objectively horrendous uniforms— a nearly reflective white tank top with a frilly, bright yellow skort that made the whole team look like a bunch of deviled eggs— Boscha had all but hijacked the responsibility of picking out their uniforms. They weren't bad, per se. The white top with the school's logo and the blue skirt with white lines down the sides actually looked quite nice, but Boscha had been insufferable ever since.
Luckily, she was saved from having to respond by an old school bus rumbling into the parking lot.
Gravesfield had arrived.
Amity turned without a word and grabbed a hopper to help in the effort to clear the courts for the other team. The metal nearly burned her hand as she pressed the wire basket into a tennis ball. It resisted for a moment before slipping between the bars that were spaced just far enough apart to keep it inside.
As annoying as the redhead was, she wasn’t totally wrong. Gravesfield was a small school in the next town over, having only four dusty tennis courts as opposed to Hexside's pristine eight. Amity had only been there a few times before in previous years, and every time, she was left disappointed by their lackluster school.
Beating them would be easy. She had personally beat their first-singles player six-two on both sets last year, and Boscha had actually made their first-doubles team cry. She wasn't worried.
She kept the bus in the corner of her eye, watching as a line of students finally disembarked. It seemed Boscha was right about the uniforms. Some were dressed in last year’s get up, but most were sporting various athletic wear instead. She recognized most of them, mainly by face— she never had a knack for names— but there were a few new players. Freshman, most likely.
Gravesfield set up quickly, and soon half of the courts were filled with the other students warming up, laughing amongst themselves. The sun burned hot as it began its descent, nearly blinding Amity as she practiced her serves, and the noise from the other team was slowly chipping away at her already-short patience. If Hexside were ever that loud on the courts, Hermonculus would have them running laps until they passed out, but it seemed even Gravesfield’s coach— a wild looking woman with graying hair— was joining in on the ruckus.
The time couldn’t have come soon enough where the teams filtered out of the courts, grabbing one last snack or filling their water bottles before they gathered before the coaches and managers. Hermonculus started his usual speech, pointing out where the bathrooms were and outlining the stipulations for the varsity, JV, and alternate games in his nasally sort of voice. Amity tuned most of it out, scanning the Gravesfield team for the girl she'd played against last year. Kate? Or maybe Kaylee? Whatever her name was, she was nowhere to be found. She must've graduated then. Unfortunately for Amity, that meant her opponent would be someone she hadn't faced before. A wildcard, but nothing she couldn't handle.
Hermonculus finally finished his rant, and soon the managers from each team stepped up to announce the lineup.
“For our first varsity singles,” Matt, the Hexside manager, monotoned, “Amity Blight!”
There was a smattering of polite applause as Amity stepped forward to grab an unopened can of pressurized tennis balls.
Gravesfield’s manager, a boy with dark skin and a wide, bright smile, all but jumped as he yelled, “And our first varsity singles is… LUUUUUUZ NOCEDA!”
The other team hollered, whistled, and clapped one of the girls on the back. Luz, most likely. Amity had never seen her before. The rest of the names faded into background noise as she focused on her new opponent. She was tall, with tanned skin and short, brown hair, sporting a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top that showcased well defined shoulders. She must be good to make it to the top of the lineup on her first year. It wouldn’t matter, though. Amity would win.
Brown eyes flicked up to meet hers, and with a start, she realized she’d been caught staring. They held each other's gaze. Amity glared, but the other girl didn’t shy away, just continued to study her with curious interest.
“Alright, you know the drill! Ten-minute warm up!” the Gravesfield coach yelled, flashing a gold canine.
Amity started towards the courts, and not even a second later, Luz was right beside her. Stupid long legs.
“Hi!” she said cheerfully, swinging her water bottle back and forth as she walked, “It’s Amity, right?”
“Yes.”
“Cool! What grade are you in, Amity?”
“Eleventh.”
The other girl’s eyes lit up, blind to Amity’s attempts to cut the conversation short, “Oh, I’m a junior too! I just moved here, actually. I used to go to Saint James, believe it or not.”
Amity ignored the other girl as she went on about a school she'd never heard of. She spun her purple and white racquet in her hand, watching the W of the Wilson logo on its butt twirl into a 3, an M, E, then back to a W. A restless energy was building in her limbs now, the same way it always did before a match. They reached the net, Luz talking all the while as they set their stuff next to the post.
“M or W?” she cut off whatever anecdote the brown haired girl was in the middle of.
Luz didn't even seem phased, “Uh, I'll go with M.”
Amity nodded, setting the tip of her racquet on the ground and sending it spinning with a flick of her wrist. It spun a few seconds, and they watched it silently until it clattered to the ground. She picked it up, careful not to change its orientation as she presented it to her opponent.
“It's an M!” she cheered.
Amity turned the racquet around, and sure enough, the Wilson logo was upside-down. She scowled. Luz tapped a finger to her chin in a rather over the top display of thoughtfulness. Winning the racquet toss meant she got to decide who was serving and who was receiving, but it shouldn’t take that long to make up her mind.
“I think I'll let you serve first,” she finally decided, giving an annoying, friendly grin, “what side do you want?”
Amity bit back the snide remark that threatened to spill out. She glanced at the bright sky. She’d rather not serve with the sun in her eyes.
“I'll take this one.”
“Alrighty,” she grabbed the can of balls from where Amity had left it and quickly popped it open. She handed two over and bounced the other one on the court experimentally, “Let’s get this show on the road!”
The warm up went quickly. They rallied back and forth smoothly, Amity doing her best to spot any weakness she’d be able to exploit. Frustratingly, Luz had an amazing backhand, almost stronger than her forehand. She returned any shot with practiced ease, and by the time the ten minutes were over, Amity still hadn’t found a chink in the girl’s armor.
Luz trotted up to the net, two balls balanced on the strings of her racquet. She smiled as Amity took them, balancing her own racquet on the net as she tucked a ball into her skort, keeping the other in her hand. The brown haired girl let out a loud gasp, and Amity’s eyes shot up to see what was wrong, but Luz was staring at something else.
“Omigosh, that is so cute!” she pointed at a small, cat shaped dampener nestled near the base of her racquet, “Where’d you get it? I’ve been meaning to get more dampeners, but, heh, I keep on losing them. If I had one like that, I’d—”
“Look,” Luz stepped back under the force of her glare, “I’m not here for chit-chat, okay? Let’s just play and get this over with.”
Amity didn’t wait for a response before she stalked off to the baseline. She had to consciously relax her shoulders and unclench her jaw. A small part of her felt bad for snapping, but between dealing with Boscha and the grueling heat, she didn’t have any patience left. The sooner she won this match, the sooner she could make up some excuse to finally go home.
She bounced the ball with her racquet, taking a steadying breath. She had been taking it easy during the warmup. Noceda would be in for a surprise.
“Love all,” she called.
She lined herself up on the right side of the court, positioned her feet just so, and tossed the ball into the court once, twice, thrice.
She threw the ball up, and served.
A bright green blur shot across the net, hitting almost right on the centerline. Luz lunged to the left, returning the serve with just as much force. Amity blinked in surprise, reacting just a millisecond too late as the ball hit the court and whizzed past the tip of her racquet, lodging itself in the fence.
She stood there for a minute, frozen, then stomped back to the baseline with a scowl.
“Love, fifteen!”
Amity was prepared this time. Luz returned her serve fiercely, and Amity sliced it back over the net. Luz shuffled aside, getting in a stable position to hit a forehand back to her. The ball clipped the net, changing its course to near-vertical. Amity scrambled forward, barely managing to hit it back over before its second bounce. Unfortunately, that left her wide open for Luz’s next shot, the ball flying past her left and bouncing well inside the lines.
The game was over within the next few points. Thirty-forty, in Luz’s favor. Amity was all but growling as she handed the tennis balls to her opponent, watching her flick her scorecard to one through narrowed eyes.
“Good game,” she said, without any of her former cheeriness, “your serves were really good.”
Amity didn’t respond. She stomped to the other side of the court, ignoring Matt’s “What was that, Blight?” from the other side of the fence. Her serve shouldn’t have been broken, let alone on the first game. Now she’d have to work twice as hard to win the set.
Luz’s serves were slower than her own, more careful, less confident. Amity returned them viciously, but her opponent always seemed one step ahead of her. The game went to a deuce, and despite her best efforts, the tall girl won the next two points, earning her another game in her favor.
Luz was quiet as she handed the balls back to her, but Amity was too riled up to be grateful for the silence.
She needed to calm down.
“Anger leads to recklessness, Mittens. Honestly, if it’s taking you this long to get it, we might have to increase your sessions with Miss Snapdragon.”
She bounced the ball three times, using the familiar motion to push all other thoughts out of her head, and served.
~~~
She lost the set, that first game proving to be her downfall as Luz held her own for the remaining games.
It made Amity furious.
The second set was ruthless. Any slight misstep from the taller girl was punished mercilessly, the green ball darting across the net almost too fast to see. Sweat dripped in her eyes, but she wasn’t going to slow down until the set was hers, and after nearly an hour of dropshots, slices, and lobs, it was.
Six-three.
She had earned a third set, a second chance at putting this Gravesfield girl in her place, and she wasn’t going to waste it.
As was customary, there was a ten minute break before the third set began. Amity stalked out of the courts without looking back. Hermonculus came up to her as she refilled her water bottle, his smile a thinly concealed grimace.
“Amity! Catching your breath, I see?” he said.
“Yes, sir. There’s still a few minutes before the set starts.”
“This is taking quite a bit longer than anticipated. Boscha won her match ages ago.”
Amity grit her teeth to keep from saying something that would definitely come back to bite her at practice. She didn’t need his petty, passive aggressive remarks right now.
“Uh, actually, I think I’ll head back in early. I have to stretch out my legs before they start cramping,” she pushed past the older man, grabbing her white and purple racquet from where it was stuck in the fence.
“Remember, Amity, the roster for the state tournament isn’t set in stone!” he called after her, sounding all too happy to be handing out threats.
She shut the fenced door to the court with more force than necessary. She could feel the eyes of the Gravesfield team on her, apparently having nothing better to do than to stare as they waited their turn.
She set her things down, taking measured breaths as she stretched out. She only needed to win this last set. Luz had an infuriatingly sporadic playing style, never sticking to a pattern longer than a couple of points, but she had slowed down near the end of the second set. She was growing tired, and Amity would be waiting to make her pay for it.
The sound of the court door closing made her look up. Luz was walking in. Her hair was wet, like she’d dunked her head in water to cool off, and her expression was set with a new sort of determination that made Amity falter, just for a second.
She didn’t acknowledge her as she set her water bottle down, beginning a series of stretches as well. The silence was tense, but unbroken, and soon they were on opposite sides of the net, waiting for the third set to begin.
Luz was serving this time. She bounced the ball a couple of times, then threw it upwards. Water droplets were flung from her hair as she swung her arm down.
“Out!” Amity yelled, holding her index finger in the air.
Luz didn’t acknowledge her, just pulled another ball from her pocket and prepared to serve again.
“Second,” she threw the ball up, and this time, it landed squarely in the service box. Amity returned it easily, tilting her racquet to give it more topspin. Luz shuffled closer to the service line, hitting to her backhand. Amity met it at an awkward angle, sending the ball crosscourt, but the other girl was quick to chase after it. Her racquet was tilted too much, however, and the ball sailed straight into the net.
Amity grinned.
Luz recovered by the next point, hitting a quick forehand at such an angle that the ball bounced barely in the lines and nearly hit the girls in the next court over. The rest of the game went quickly, and Luz emerged as the victor after Amity failed to reach a dropshot in time. Amity grit her teeth, but she wasn’t too concerned. There were plenty of games left, and she only needed to break Luz’s serve once for the set to finally be hers.
The match continued, neither player yielding. Amity would win with a dangerously fast volley one game, and Luz would win with an expertly aimed backhand the next. The ball was nothing but a neon blur, and more than once, they had to stop in order to retrieve it from where it was lodged in the chain link fence.
The score sat at five-six, Luz leading after Amity had failed to break her serve yet again. They had momentarily paused before the changeover to rehydrate and flip the scorecards. Luz pulled her water bottle away from her lips and ran her hand through her damp hair, turning towards the pale girl. Amity downed the rest of her water, walking away swiftly before the other girl could speak.
She was in a dangerous position, she knew. If she lost this next game, it would be over. She could feel her muscles nearing their limit, and her feet were slowing down more and more after every new point. Luz was in a similar boat, though, and Amity was bound and determined to win the war of attrition.
The evening sun was low as she glared across the net at her opponent. She bounced the ball, counting evenly in her head before tossing it in the air.
“Out!” Luz called.
Amity snarled, but held her tongue as she served again. Luz returned it easily, and Amity ran forward to meet the ball halfway and send it skimming over the net with an angled slice. The other girl had to dart to the left to catch it. Unfortunately for her, that left her wide open for Amity’s next move, intercepting the ball before it could even bounce on her side and sending it flying to the other side of the court, bouncing just within the alley line. Noceda couldn't have returned it if she tried.
Amity allowed herself a small smile as she lined up on the other side of the center mark.
“Fifteen, love,” she called right before throwing the ball up.
The serve went wide, and Luz hit it back with a low backhand. Amity had to rush the net to hit it back over, then rush frantically back when a lob was sent right over her head. She barely reached it in time, recklessly hitting a forehand across the net.
“Out!”
Amity cursed under her breath, stomping back to the baseline, “Fifteen all.”
She served.
“Out!”
The frustration Amity had been feeling all day came bubbling out.
“That was in!” she snapped.
Luz shook her head, moving to touch the tip of her racquet to a spot just outside the service box. Amity could practically hear her molars grinding against each other as she clenched her jaw. She barely waited for the other girl to get back into position before she served again.
“Out!”
Amity opened her mouth, words temporarily blocked by the well of fury in her throat. Her head snapped to the side, dangerous glare meeting Matt’s unimpressed expression from beyond the fence.
“Can we get a line judge in here?” she demanded.
Matt rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. She could hear Noceda’s indignant sputtering from the other side of the net, but she didn’t even look at her until both coaches were entering the court. Hermonculus wore his usual scowl, and Gravesfield’s coach didn’t look too pleased either as they took positions along the fence near the net.
Amity sent one final glare to her opponent before lining up another serve. It bounced right on the center service line. Luz lunged to hit it back, and Amity met it with the same ferocity, using her anger to push her legs faster. The ball blurred to and fro across the net, and Amity’s patience was nearing its limit when Luz finally made a mistake, tilting her racquet a smidge too much, sending the ball into the net.
Amity didn’t waste any time. She quickly picked up another ball that had rolled near the fence and lined up on the baseline.
“Thirty all.”
She tossed it. Her muscles were tense from anger, and her jaw was still clenched as she whipped her racquet down. The ball went long, nearly hitting the service line, but managing to stay within the service box. Luz returned it with a vicious forehand, the ball just grazing the top of the net before shooting down into the concrete. Amity lunged forward, sending it back with a slice. Luz had run up as well, hitting the ball with a slice of her own and parrying Amity’s next volley with a drop shot that had her running to the net. She scooped up the neon green ball in a high lob that soared over Noceda’s head. She backtracked her own steps as her opponent ran back, keeping an eye on the now descending ball as she inched closer and closer to the edge of the court.
“Out!”
She inhaled sharply through her teeth, turning to watch the coaches on the sideline. Gravesfield’s coach nodded, agreeing with the call, and Hermonculus narrowed his eyes at her. The message was clear.
Amity resisted the urge to throw her racquet on the ground as she stalked back to serve. She tried to lengthen her breathing and relax her muscles, but nothing seemed to work against the swirling storm in her chest. If she lost this point, she lost the set.
“Thirty, forty.”
She threw the ball into the court once, twice, thrice, then served.
The ball shot across the court, landing in the corner of the service box before meeting Noceda's racquet as she swung. For a few hits, it seemed like it'd be a battle of forehands, but her opponent switched it up, slicing a low backhand that had Amity sprinting to the right. She lobbed it back, scrambling to regain her position in the middle of the baseline. She only made it halfway before a green blur shot across her vision.
“Out!”
Amity skidded to a stop, one hand in the air to make the call. A self-satisfied smile was halfway across her lips before one of the coaches spoke up.
“Hold on there, bossy boots,” Gravesfield’s coach said, walking up to her, “that hit the line.”
Amity sputtered.
“And I'm not just saying that because it's my kid,” she hiked a thumb to the girl on the other side of the net, “It was close, sure, but that was on the white.”
Amity’s eyes darted to Hermonculus. She had sworn it was out. Surely he could see it.
He glared right back, not moving from his post as he said, “I thought you were trained better than to miscall, but apparently I was wrong. It seems I was wrong about you a lot today.”
He gave one final look down his hawkish nose before stalking off the court. Her heart dropped.
“Yeesh,” Gravesfield’s coach muttered before turning back to her, “You played good today, kid. I'll have to keep an eye on you at regionals.”
She gave what might have been an encouraging grin, but it felt more mocking than anything before she followed Hexside's coach.
Amity’s grip on her racquet turned white-knuckled, and her teeth ached from how hard she clenched her jaw.
She lost.
She blinked the sweat away from her eyes. She stomped over to the side of the net. Luz was already there, putting the balls in their container. She looked up at her approach.
“Good game,” she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She held her hand out, “really gave me a run for my money on those last plays.”
Amity ignored the outstretched hand, swiping her empty water bottle without a word before marching away. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her opponent's face drop silently, and she pushed down the inkling of guilt that tugged at her heart.
She shoved the gate door open with more force than necessary, but she didn't care for the looks it attracted. She held her head high as she passed by the other team's canopy to get to Hexside's own makeshift camp, but a dark, twisting thought stirred in her gut, consuming everything else like a black hole.
She had failed.