“I wouldn’t have to if you’d been ready on time,” I said, hugging one of the curves as we barreled down Dockside Terrace. “I was about to leave without you.”
“I wish you had,” Gelsey said as she slumped back in her seat. I came to an abrupt stop that jolted us both forward, then picked up speed again as I headed toward what we had always called Devil’s Dip. It was a huge hill that dropped sharply, then went up again just as sharply on the other side, creating a giant U shape. The Dip had been my Waterloo when I’d been learning to ride a bike, and it hadn’t gotten any less steep with time. “I really thought Mom was bluffing. I can’t believe she’s making me do this.”
“Tennis isn’t so bad,” I said as we coasted down the hill and then back up the other side, while I tried to remember my own long-ago lessons. I had never loved it like my father and Warren, and hadn’t ever hung around the Tennis Center, working on my backhand on the practice wall the way that other kids had.
“Really,” Gelsey said flatly.
“Really,” I said, remembering how Lucy and I had spent very little time playing tennis, and most of our time talking. “It’s mostly just hanging out with your friends, with a little tennis mixed in.”
“Friends,” she repeated softly, looking out the window again. “Right.”
I glanced over at my sister before looking back at the road, regretting my word choice. Gelsey had never made friends easily, and had never had a best friend that I’d been aware of. It probably hadn’t helped that she had spent all of her waking hours, until now, in the dance studio. But Gelsey also didn’t do herself any favors, especially because whenever she got nervous, she masked it with haughtiness or disdain. “Look,” I started, a little uncertainly, glancing over at her, “I know it might be hard at first, but—”
“Taylor!” Gelsey’s voice was suddenly sharp. I glanced back at the road and then slammed on the brakes, hard, causing a loud screeching noise.
There was a girl on a bike directly in the middle of the road. She was riding fast, steering with one hand, the other holding a phone to her ear.
“Jesus,” I muttered, my pulse pounding hard, as I checked the other lane, then gave her a wide berth. As we passed her, Gelsey leaned over and honked my horn. “Hey!” I said, pushing her hand away. The girl swerved, her bike wobbling dangerously for a second before she righted it and glanced at the car. In an impressive move, she transferred her phone to her ear and gripped the handlebars with her opposite hand, so that the hand closest to my car was free to give us the finger. Her face was obscured by a curtain of dark hair, but there was no question as to how she felt about us at that moment. As we drove past, I looked back and saw her in my rear-view mirror, becoming reduced to a dot in a purple T-shirt.
“Don’t do that,” I said as I swung into the recreation complex parking lot.
“She was taking up the whole road,” Gelsey said. But her voice didn’t sound nearly as confident anymore as I pulled to a stop in front of the main entrance. The building looked exactly the same, a tall wooden structure with LAKE PHOENIX RECREATION CENTER carved into the awning. Just beyond the entrance, you’d have to show your badge to the employee inside to access the pool and tennis courts.
I looked at my sister and saw that her hands were gripping the straps of her tote bag so hard that her knuckles had turned white. She glanced over at me and I realized that she was scared. I knew it was probably up to me to say something, something encouraging and big-sisterly, but I had no idea what that would be.
“I should go,” Gelsey said after a moment, taking a deep breath and pushing open her door. “I’ll call Mom for a ride home, or walk, or something.”
“Okay,” I said. “Have fun.”
Gelsey rolled her eyes hugely at that, got out of the car, and walked up to the entrance stiffly, like she was facing a firing squad and not a tennis lesson. I looked down at the clock, cursed, and put the car into gear. I peeled out of the parking lot, now officially five minutes late for my first day of work.