14. The Way the Ball Bounces

"Do you want to forfeit?" Jill asked. There was no reply. "I'm trying to give you a chance to walk away. You're about to go down as the biggest choke artist in history." She spun the paddle in the air and caught it, leaning on the ping pong table, whispering, "You sure you want me to serve?"

"Don't let her in your head." Curtis called out, chuckling with me on the picnic bench. There was a light breeze coming through the park, perfect tournament weather. We were on the verge of witnessing a major upset. Omar, usually a lock for last place, was one point away from defeating Jill. Unfortunately for him, she had fought back, scoring four consecutive times. Omar's game was collapsing like a house of cards. He became quiet when he was stressed out, filling his new lucky headband with sweat, his eyes staring at the little plastic ball. He hadn't said a word all game. This was the closest he had ever been to winning a match.

"One point. One more point." I yelled.

"Hey, who's cheering for me?" Jill asked, "At least cheer for your paddle." I laughed, once again she was borrowing my equipment, having forgotten her personalized paddle at home. Naturally, if she won, I was going to claim a share of the victory.

"Go paddle!" I yelled.

"Boooo!" Curtis called out, his hands cupped around his mouth to form a human loudspeaker. It was more fun to cheer for the underdog. Jill delivered a wicked serve, fast, low and with a savage spin. Omar couldn't handle it, the blur of the ball careened off of his paddle, soaring over our heads.

"Finder's keepers." Came a voice from behind us. I could feel the hair on the back of my neck rise, sensing Curtis tense up beside me. I turned to see the group of eighteen-year olds that I knew as Jack's friends. They looked menacing without his friendly face.

"Toss it here." Curtis called casually, holding up his hand.

"This?" the tall one responded, loudly chewing his gum, clearly relishing the moment. "Can you prove that it's yours? I just found it in the park."

"Oliver..." The red-headed girl, Kelly, pleaded half-heartedly, playing her part in the game.

"Tell you what. I'll play you for it. If you win, I'll let you borrow my ball." He winked at his two friends, striding toward the ping pong table. We didn't respond, any sign of agreement would acknowledge that he owned our ball.

"Hear anything about your bro?" The dark haired one asked Curtis, pretending that nothing was amiss. I think his name was Dave. "Is Jack coming up this summer?" He was the only teenager I knew who lived in Wasaga Beach. Most people knew him as the polite boy at the marina, slinging a gas pump up and down the dock. Curtis shook his head and shrugged. I could tell Dave wanted to say something to console him but didn't know the words.

"Who's the champion here?" Oliver asked, looking at Jill. He had changed. Last summer he was a cartoon, a tall, skinny beanpole waving in the wind but now he was heavier, more adult. It was intimidating. "Give me your paddle for a second."

"No." Jill said, staring him down with ice in her eyes. "We're in the middle of a game."

"You let your hair go long," the red-head said, "it looks good. Really feminine."

"What?" Oliver exclaimed loudly. "Jill's a girl?"

This was how it went whenever we ran into Jack's crew. Except when Jack was here. We could count on him to limit the teasing, making sure it didn't last too long and returning our ball in the end. With Oliver running the show it was anyone's guess how this would play out. I watched Omar surrender his paddle to the annoying intruder. I never understood why Jack was friends with him. On the other hand, nothing could explain my friendships in Wasaga Beach, they just happened. Maybe he was different when he was younger. I couldn't imagine Omar, Curtis or Jill evolving into a shady character, wondering if I would still hang around if they became like Oliver. He was a show off, shoplifting candy and vanadalizing street signs when others were watching. I doubt he would do that stuff alone. I had never forgiven him for ripping off Jill.

"I'll take you on." I said. "Winner takes the ball." I ignored Curtis' subtle sigh, looking off into the distance, pretending to watch a small family across the park eating lunch on a picnic blanket. They probably thought it was nice that the older kids were giving the younger ones some tips on ping pong.

"You're the champ?" Oliver was incredulous, "Curtis? You let her beat you?"

"We'll play to one point. You can serve." I said in an emotionless tone. Jill handed my paddle to me. I avoided eye contact, knowing that she would be trying to stop me from doing something rash. My friends knew me well. They could sense the calm before the storm. Sometimes, when I'm really angry I feel like I'm watching myself on autopilot. I'm sitting in the driver's seat but I'm not steering, just sort of waiting to see what happens. This was one of those times.

Oliver served, an easy start, planning to toy with me. The ball was coming slow and high. I unleashed a ferocious forehand, smacking the ball as hard as I could, aiming for his head. He moved his face back and it bounced off of his neck, ricocheting into the park. The family looked up like terrified animals that heard the sharp crack of a rifle. Oliver waved, assuring them that he had the situation under control.

"What the hell was that?" He growled.

"My point. You touched it last so it's out of bound on you. That's the rules."

"Damn," Dave exclaimed, "she got you there."

"That's the only way she could have beaten you." Kelly offered, probably trying to calm the beast.

Oliver glared at me from across the table, visions of payback in his eyes, letting me know that this would come back on me one hundred times. My temper is good at taking action but not so hot at weighing pros and cons. I wondered if it was worth it. I wondered if I owed my life to the family on the picnic blanket who would have been witnesses in the trial. Oliver laughed, touching his neck where the ball had spanked him. "Fair enough, your ball." He walked over to pick it up, bent over, and crushed it with his sandal. "Oops."

"Oliver..." Dave scolded.

"It was an accident." Oliver flipped the useless ball onto the table and they left us. I worried that I was putting Noa in danger. Maybe we should have called the whole thing off.

"You wanna finish?" Omar asked enthusiastically, producing a new ball from his pocket.

"Not really in the mood." Jill said. Omar was deflated, what a way to have your best game taken away.

"I gotta go." I said. I was late. I had to meet Noa to look through garbage. My double life had begun.