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  “Tell me all about the tournament from the start,” her dad said. “You are calling on a tennis club phone, right?”

  “Yes,” Maya said. “We’ve got hours.”

  Maya would never let the call go that long. She already felt guilty for using the phone at all, but that couldn’t compete with the excitement of sharing this moment with her parents. No other loss in her lifetime had felt like such a win.

  As the conversation continued, Maya began to notice that her father’s voice sounded strained. He did his best to cover it up, but Maya had heard it before. “Dad,” she said tentatively, “did you hurt your back again?”

  There was a pause. “It’s nothing, Maya.”

  Suddenly she hated being so far from home. She could imagine him laid out on the couch while her mom did everything around the house without any help. “How bad?” she asked.

  “Not like last time,” he said. “I just sometimes forget I can’t lift those bags of grass like I used to. So tell me, what’s the prize for making it to the semifinal?”

  Maya wasn’t ready to change the subject, but she knew her father was done talking about it. “Enough money that I can actually pay you back for the tournament fees, plane ticket, hotel room, and everything else I’ve put on the emergency credit card since I signed up for this thing. And maybe have enough left over to buy a meal on the plane home.”

  “Oh,” he said. The word only had two letters in it, but it was filled with disappointment. Not in Maya, naturally, but … something. Maybe he hadn’t changed the conversation. With his back hurting, he’d have to subcontract lawn-mowing jobs out to his friends and competitors. Money would be even tighter than usual. The little amount that Maya would clear after taxes for being in this tournament wasn’t nearly enough to help out.

  “Only the winner gets the big cash prize,” Maya said, answering the unspoken question.

  “At least tell me you get an ugly trophy to go with the other horrible awards in your bedroom here,” her dad said. They had a running joke about the tacky trophies she’d collected throughout her junior career. “You really need to start decorating that dorm room of yours.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but no.”

  “Maybe we should ship some down to you,” he suggested. “I’m sure your friends would love to see the Syracuse Tennis Star trophy.”

  “Don’t you dare!” she shouted into the phone. It was the tackiest award ever created: a tennis ball with eyes and a mouth glued on it was mounted on a pair of copper legs with copper arms holding a tennis racket. It was supposed to look like a cute animated character, but the way the eyes were slightly skewed made it more demonic than adorable. For years, Maya and her dad had been trading it back and forth—hiding it in each other’s bedrooms, leaving a little nightmarish surprise for the other to find.

  “No, no, no,” he said. “I know how much you must miss it. I’ll be sure to ship it ground so it takes a while to get there.”

  “Maybe they’ll even lose it in transit,” Maya joked.

  “We can hope.”

  The two of them laughed some more before Maya finally said good-bye and hung up the phone. She tried not to worry too much about the money situation, since her scholarship covered school and incidentals, but it was hard not to be concerned standing there in the clothes her friend had bought for her. Like it or not, image was an important part of the sports world. And image didn’t come cheap.

  Chapter 2

  It killed Maya to be watching the match between Donata Zajacova and Nicole King. Sitting in the stands was for the spectators, not the players. She wanted to be on that court. If only she hadn’t blown her chance the day before.

  No matter how many people congratulated Maya on her stellar performance, it didn’t change the facts. She hadn’t advanced to the final. She was a spectator like everyone else.

  But she and everyone else were getting one heck of a game.

  Donata ran Nicole all over the court. Honestly, they were both all over the place, but Maya liked to think that Donata had the upper hand. It made for a better story if Maya managed to fight off the eventual winner of the tournament for almost four hours. And watching Nicole go down hard would make Maya’s own loss sting a bit less.

  Maya still wasn’t sure what she’d done to get on Nicole’s bad side. Or if Nicole even had a good side. Sure, Maya had dinged Nicole’s new car shortly after showing up at the top-level sports academy. But Nicole had just waved that off like it was nothing.

  Did she feel threatened? Maya hadn’t done anything that could possibly concern a player at Nicole’s rank. Not back then, at least. Now Maya worried that her performance at the Open just put a bigger target on her back.

  As much as Maya wanted to be in the final, that probably would have sent Nicole over the edge. Maya wouldn’t have stood a chance against her yet. She needed more training. But they’d have their day in the future. Maya and most—but not all—of the press were already looking forward to it. News articles coming out of the tournament were already calling Maya “someone to watch,” using words like “impressive” and “powerful” and her personal favorite phrase, “future phenom.”

  Donata was pretty phenomenal herself in the final, while Maya still ached from their game a day earlier. That was nothing new. Playing through pain was all part of the life. But playing with Donata’s skill was something Maya only imagined before she got to the Academy. Now it was expected of her. At times it was exciting, but more often it was terrifying.

  “Nicole’s not looking that good, is she?” a male voice said behind Maya, pulling her from her thoughts. The owner of the voice was insane. Much as Maya hated to admit it, Nicole was playing a perfect game.

  “No,” a woman’s voice agreed. “This match should have been over by now. Nicole was much better in Prague.”

  “That was a match,” the man agreed.

  Maya knew the tournament they were talking about. She’d seen clips online. Nicole looked as good here as she did there. Better, even.

  “And of course,” the man said, “Donata hasn’t looked good since her win at the US Open in—when was that?”

  “Two years—”

  “Two years ago,” he agreed, completely ignoring the fact that Donata had won the Australian Open since then. “Frankly, if Nicole can’t finish off someone whose career is on the decline, maybe she’s not worth the press she’s been getting.”

  Maya wanted to turn around and give them an impromptu lesson about tennis. They didn’t have a clue what they were saying. But she didn’t want to draw any attention to herself, and she certainly didn’t want to do it by defending Nicole King.

  “Then again,” the woman said, “maybe Donata’s making a comeback. That girl she played against yesterday did look pretty good. What was her name?”

  Maya’s ears perked up even more. They were talking about her. And it didn’t sound negative.

  “That Maya girl? Yeah. She could be one to watch.”

  Now Maya really wanted to see who was talking about her, but she couldn’t. It would be awkward and embarrassing. They’d see the huge smile spreading across her face and think she was a total egomaniac. She kept her eyes forward and focused on the court.

  The game play was intense, right up to the final point that came when Nicole smashed an overhead shot right down the baseline.

  The stands exploded in a burst of cheers. Even Maya had to clap begrudgingly. Nicole had earned the applause. It was only right to join in. Besides, Maya didn’t want anyone seeing her sitting there in silence. That would really give the people behind her something to talk about.

  The crowd outside the women’s locker room was ten deep. Everyone wanted a piece of Nicole and Donata. The tennis club’s publicist and her staff desperately tried to herd the reporters into the press conference, but no one wanted to go.

  Nicole’s reputation for off-the-cuff comments made this prime stalking area for a good quote about the game. Once she was settled into the press conf
erence with her handlers around, she’d be less likely to blurt out one of her choice comments.

  A familiar, clipped British accent rose above most voices in the hall. Nicole’s agent, Jordan Cromwell, was on crowd control, but she wasn’t pushing the reporters anywhere. She entertained her own court of press, firing off sound bites about Nicole’s game. The comments were, oddly, more defensive than celebratory.

  “Nicole hasn’t had the chance to get much practice in with her packed schedule lately,” Jordan said. “We were planning on skipping Toronto entirely, but you all know how she hates to disappoint the fans.”

  Maya was beginning to think she’d seen a different game than everyone else in the stadium. Why was everyone acting like Nicole didn’t have one of the best games of her life? Was it that much of a surprise that Donata Zajacova was still a strong player?

  Maya glanced at her watch. She had to board the airport shuttle soon if she wanted to make it back to school on time. This was her last chance to catch Donata. If only she could get into the locker room.

  The tennis club’s publicist and Nicole’s agent were so busy with the press that they didn’t notice Maya pushing her way through the crowd. That left the two security guards stationed at the door. She was prepared to tell them she’d forgotten something and beg them to let her slip in, but they both recognized her from the day before. The door was opened before she could even begin the lie.

  “Thanks,” she said as she slipped inside.

  Even empty, the women’s locker room seemed small. It was nothing like the palatial changing rooms at the Academy. All the girls studying tennis could fit in those, along with the guys, the swimmers, and half the football players.

  Maya pushed two particular football players from her mind as she went about finding Donata. She’d managed to successfully keep those football players out of her thoughts for most of the tournament. No reason to start now.

  It wouldn’t be too difficult to locate Donata in the small room. The main problem was avoiding Nicole.

  SLAM!

  Problem solved.

  The slam came from two rows ahead. Even though it made more sense that the loser of the match would be slamming lockers, that didn’t seem Donata’s style. That was a Nicole King signature slam.

  Maya cautiously stepped into the first row between the lockers, careful not to make a sound in case she’d been wrong about Nicole’s location.

  She wasn’t. Donata had the whole row to herself. She’d finished changing for the press conference and was sitting silently on the bench in a linen pantsuit. She was probably preparing herself mentally to deal with the media. The reporters were ten times more intense than they’d been following the semifinal match. Maya didn’t want to disturb her, but there wasn’t time to wait.

  “Donata?” Maya barely spoke above a whisper. She also didn’t want to alert Nicole that she was there.

  The way Donata’s face lit up when she saw Maya was more than she ever could have expected. “Maya! I was worried I wouldn’t get to see you again.”

  SLAM!

  Maya assumed that slam was meant for her, but Donata shrugged it off as she patted the bench for Maya to come sit beside her. “You really put me through the paces yesterday. Thanks for that. It got me better prepared for today.”

  As she sat, Maya suspected that comment was intended for Nicole’s ears as much as her own. “Donata, I don’t think I had anything to do—”

  Donata cut her off. “Nonsense. And call me Dona. Everyone does.”

  “Thank you!”

  “No need to thank me,” she said. “It’s my name. Are you sticking around for the presser?”

  Maya checked the time on her cell phone. “I have to get back to school.”

  “You go to the Academy, right?”

  “Yes!” Maya was surprised that Dona knew anything about her. “Did you go there?”

  “No,” Dona said. “The Academy wasn’t what it is now back when I was your age. But I’m on the board of directors. Nails Reed likes to stack the board with people who can bring in donors.”

  “That’s right,” Maya said. “I knew that.” Big-name celebrities in all sports were part of the school board. Famous faces were useful when it came time for fund-raising.

  “Truth be told, I haven’t been by the school in a while,” Dona admitted. “If you’re any indication of the current crop of students, I should swing by more often.”

  Maya blushed. “Thank you.”

  “You have to stop doing that,” Dona said.

  Maya looked down at herself. She wasn’t doing anything. “Doing what?”

  “You need to learn how to take a compliment,” Dona said. “It shouldn’t always seem like a surprise.”

  “Oh.” Maya felt her face going red again. She couldn’t help it. Getting a compliment from one of the top players in the world was a surprise. It would take some getting used to.

  Another top player in the game stuck her head around the corner locker. “Excuse me.” Nicole’s tone was more filled with anger than courtesy. “I told Jordan and that publicist woman that I did not want to be disturbed.”

  Even though Nicole was looking right at Maya, it was Donata who replied, voice full of charm. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Was our private conversation disturbing you? This locker room is rather small, but Maya and I were just catching up. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “I do, actually.”

  “Well, then I’m sorry again. But you look ready to me. If you’d like to go first, I’ll happily wait until after you’ve spoken with the reporters.”

  Maya sucked in her breath waiting for Nicole to explode. Everyone knew the winner went second in postmatch press conferences. That’s just how it was done. But Nicole remained calm as she held up her makeup bag. “I still need to put on my game face.”

  Dona was just as cool. “I thought your game face was always on.”

  “Oh, it is,” Nicole said. “But every now and then I like to freshen things up a bit. You should try it.”

  “Some of us don’t require any freshening up at all,” Dona said.

  Maya felt like she was watching a rematch, but instead of tennis balls, they were throwing shade at each other.

  “You’re on in five minutes,” Nicole reminded her.

  “They won’t start without me.” Dona’s smile did not falter. “I’ll be ready before your time is up.”

  Nicole walked away, letting out a huff of annoyance as she went. The sound of her footsteps tapping on the locker room floor got softer as she put some distance between them.

  Dona’s smile relaxed a bit as she focused back on Maya. “Of course, the Academy produces all kinds of students.”

  “I’m pretty sure she was like that before she started there,” Maya said. She could easily imagine a five-year-old Nicole ruling the playground, deciding who got to swing on the swings and who did the pushing.

  “So, what’s next, Maya?” Dona asked. “Will you be at Skyborne Cup?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Maya said. The Skyborne Cup—named for the car company that sponsored it—was one of the signature events of the year. It was still a couple months away, but Maya wasn’t sure she was ready for competition at that level.

  “You should seriously consider it,” Dona said. “Everyone’s going to be there. And you’re part of everyone now, kiddo.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Better decide soon. The deadline is coming up.” Dona checked her watch. “You should slip out the back. The reporters will be getting settled by now, but some stragglers may be sticking around outside. They might try to get you to talk about the final. That’s fine with me, if you want, but like I said yesterday—”

  “Always leave ’em wanting more,” Maya said.

  Dona smiled again and hugged her good-bye.

  Maya agreed with the advice, but in all honesty, she mainly wanted to avoid answering any more questions. She was tired of being “on.” The problem was, her escape route took he
r right by the bathroom where Nicole was primping.

  Maya made her way to the back exit walking as lightly as she could, but her shoes betrayed her by clicking with every step. This was the downside of Renee’s fashion advice. She’d be much more comfortable in sneakers than heels—quieter, too.

  The water was running in one of the sinks in the bathroom area. Maya carefully peeked in the doorway as she passed, but stopped when she saw Nicole making herself up in the mirror. Her hand shook as she applied mascara. It was so bad that she had to hold on to the wrist of her right hand with her left as she guided the brush onto her eyelashes.

  Maya knew what it was like for her body to be weak following an intense match. Her legs were even sorer now than yesterday. But this was different. Something was wrong.

  Maya debated saying something to Nicole, but she never got the chance. Nicole caught her looking from the mirror. “Get! Out!”

  The temptation to act like a concerned friend passed and Maya left. They weren’t friends anymore. In truth, they never had been. Nicole had been manipulating Maya for weeks. But that was over and Maya had learned from the experience. The Academy was tough, but it just made her tougher. This tournament had proven as much. She’d made the right decision in staying at the school.

  Maya may not have won the Ontario Open, but people were talking about her like she did. More importantly, they were treating her like she did. Maya didn’t need to stick around for the final press conference. She didn’t need any additional interviews. She’d done what she’d come to do. She did more than she’d hoped to do, actually. Now it was time to go home.

  Funny how the Academy was starting to feel like home.

  Chapter 3

  The hug went on longer than the one Maya shared with her parents when they saw her off at the bus station when she first left for the Academy. It was beginning to feel almost as long as her semifinal match. Maya had only been gone a week. Cleo was just away for a long weekend. But Renee held on to them like they’d just come back from an extended tour of duty. It was weird, but also kind of nice. Maya never had a friendship like this before.