Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

An Ace

Slick white shoes get retied one last time
I nervously step out on the jade tinted court
I place my bag down next to the cold bleachers
And slide out my gleaming racket, armed with brand new stiff strings.
It is around 4:30 on a Monday afternoon
I just want the match to begin
My coach meets me by my court and wishes me luck.
Another girl approaches me, my new opponent
We shake hands and jog to our sides.
She spins her racket and I call M.
It's W and she asks to receive
I don't object
I retrieve a glowing green ball from under the band of my frilly, silky skirt.
I check my position so my feet won't cross that white, crisp line
I toss up the ball, releasing it from my outstretched fingers
I pull my racket behind my head in a fluid motion.
In a split second, I swing
The ball and the strings come in contact with a 'plink'
The ball hurls over to my opponent's side
She fails to retrieve it due to its racing speed
"Ace," the announcer says, the point goes to me
An eager smile sweeps across my face
I scream inside
Come on, regain your focus
I prepare to serve again.




Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!




Site Feedback