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Authors: Lindsay Paige

Bending Under Pressure

BOOK: Bending Under Pressure
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Bending Under Pressure

Copyright © 2015 by Lindsay Paige

 

All rights reserved.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

 

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

 

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Acknowledgements

About the Author

 

 

“W
e’ve already spoken to the coach and you’re on the team. He’s excited to have you and you will be excited to be there. You’re going to practice, Haley. End of discussion.” My mom holds the tennis racquet by the head and nudges the handle against my arms folded over my chest. When I make no move to grab it, her shoulders drop in defeat. “You love to play and you were going to play this year. I don’t understand why you want to quit now.”

“Because you uprooted me, took me from Dad, and I don’t want to!” It stings to say she took me from Dad when the truth is he didn’t want me to stay.

The steel returns to my mother’s eyes as her lips flatten. “Go change. You need to leave in ten minutes to be there on time.” Her tone is one I hate the most. It’s the one where if I don’t do as she asks, she’ll drag me by my ponytail, if needed.

I yank the tennis racquet from her and storm off to my room. Freaking great. Not only did I have to move to a new town in the middle of summer, switch schools, and have no choice but to acknowledge that my dad doesn’t care about me anymore, I now have to go meet new teammates and future classmates. Will they resent me because I didn’t try out for the team; I’m sure everyone else did. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anyway. I hate this place, so they might as well hate me, too.

After changing into a tank top, shorts, and my tennis shoes, I grab my racquet and return to the kitchen. Mom already has a water bottle waiting for me on the counter. Unfortunately, her new husband, Walter, has joined us.

“Are you ready for practice, Haley? I think you’ll like your coach. He seemed really excited when I spoke to him.” Walter always attempts to be nice to me, but I’ve been rock solid on my stance to ignore him.

It’s really starting to piss Mom off, too. It’s been six months since their wedding and one month since we moved. I stopped speaking to him altogether when I learned I couldn’t stay with my dad. Mom sighs, shakes her head, and hands me my car keys. I silently leave, remembering how we landed here to begin with.

My parents had always seemed happy and had the perfect marriage. Then, one day, I came home from a weekend trip with my best friend, who I also had to leave behind, and Mom had packed our stuff. We lived with my grandma until she found a place of our own. Dad has barely had anything to do with me since then. I don’t know why they divorced because neither of them will tell me. Their only answer is that they grew apart and no longer wanted to be together. What kind of answer is that? Who gives up after so many years together? Something doesn’t add up.

All I know is they’ve ruined my life. I was a daddy’s girl before the divorce. Not anymore. I’d been surrounded by friends. Well, not anymore because
they
had to move me to this crappy town.

There are
so
many problems with this place. Like, the list would be longer than I am tall and I’m five-foot-six. Let me give you a glimpse of some of the many issues. It’s small. You have to travel ten to twenty minutes to get into town because this place is
country
. Vast, lush green fields dominate the landscape between houses. There’s either a crop in the fields, horses or cows, or it’s simply empty, except for the grass. And who knew northern Virginia was so hilly? The roads are just wide enough for two vehicles, with no shoulders on the sides of the road, so you’re screwed and stuck in the road if you break down. Some of the roads don’t even have paint on them. It’s just asphalt.

Once you finally get into town, there’s one stoplight, a gas station, some run down old buildings that always have vehicles parked out front. I always wonder what’s there. I mean, the buildings look terrible with their chipped paint and they are obviously worn down. What could be inside that so many people are there? Not to mention that if I want to eat, shop, or do pretty much anything, it’s a twenty to forty-five minute drive depending on which adjacent town you pick. Honestly, with a town like this, I wonder how good their tennis team is. I just left a state championship winning school. I have to be downgrading here. How in the world could I like it here knowing all of that?

I park along the line of cars at the tennis courts. A breath of relief quickly leaves me since the courts look to be in good shape. That’s a good sign. As my door slams closed, everyone’s eyes turn toward me. A bald, old, white man, probably in his fifties, is unloading equipment from a white van. Oh, God. His shorts are a good three inches above his knees, at least. He sets a container full of tennis balls down when he sees me approach him.

“I’m Haley Summers. My stepdad, Walter, spoke to you earlier this week.”

“Ah, yes. Right.” He smiles and shakes my hand. “I’m Coach Spell. It’s nice to meet you and have you on the team. Let’s introduce you to your teammates, Haley.”

Coach Spell leads me through the fence gate and onto the courts. The group of girls is huddled around each other, whispering and stealing glances at me as we approach. One girl is standing along the fence, talking to two guys our age who are sitting on a bench. Great. An audience. A hot audience though.

“Jess!” Coach Spell yells. The girl talking to the guys turns. “Get over here.” Jess blows a kiss to the blond-haired guy who grins at her. She jogs over to us as Coach Spell calls for the others. “Girls, this is Haley Summers. She attended St. Williams High School and helped take her team to the state championships two years in a row. Fortunately, she’s on our team now and can help us do the same. Make her feel welcomed.” He turns to Jess. “Start the warm ups while I finish unloading.” As he walks away, he shouts over his shoulder, “Cameron, Keelan, if you’re going to watch my girls practice, you can help an old man out!”

The guys from the bench stand and go help him. I wonder which one is which. My guess would be that the blond, tan, white guy is Cameron while the other—a tall, lean guy with a brown complexion, is Keelan. Jess and the girls seem dumbfounded by my appearance. Maybe they didn’t know they were getting a new teammate, but geez, it’s not that big of a deal.

“Warm up!” Coach Spell hollers.

“Right,” Jess nods. The girls line up along the net and Jess stands ten feet away, facing us. She leads us in our stretching.

It feels good to stretch my muscles, especially since I know they’ll be sore after today. I haven’t played much since we moved, and I’m a tad out of shape. Once we finish, Jess announces that we’re going to run ten laps around the courts. There are five in a row and the girls start running around the outer edge. Tennis must be popular here is there are so many courts. I’m surprised there are enough people to even have a team. Jess runs next to me, apparently needing to speak to me while we do this.

BOOK: Bending Under Pressure
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