Love Match
Authors: Monica Seles
To my father and mother
for letting me dream big
and follow those dreams
Chapter 1
Thump-pop
.
Thump-pop
.
Thump-pop
.
The rhythm was erratic. Most people couldn't dance to the beat. But Maya Hart reveled in the sound. The music filled her body as she moved across the court, striking the ball and sending it back at her opponent. It hit the ground with the deep bass of a
thump
followed by the stringy twang of the
pop
as Donata Zajacova sent it back over the net at her. Maya was exactly where she was supposed to be.
There were occasional breaks in the rhythm when Maya or Donata hit the ball before it struck the ground. A few
pop-pop-pop
volleys brought a staccato intensity to their play. Occasionally silence followed a
thump
until the crowd broke out in a mixture of cheers and groans as the score increased.
This wasn't Maya's first competition. She'd been playing
the junior tennis circuit for years, but this game was different in so many ways.
The Ontario Open was her first international competition. True, the venue was just over the border into Canada, but Maya had never even had a passport until she started at the Academy. Getting that passport was one of the prerequisites for admission to the school.
The Open was also her first tournament since deciding to go pro. Playing with professional status meant she'd be ranked against all the other female tennis players on the circuit. She could now call her idols peers. She could also win some serious bank if she took this all the way.
“OUT!”
Maya glared at the line umpire. He was right, of course. She couldn't challenge the call. But he didn't have to sound so happy about it.
Maya didn't expect anyone on the court or in the crowd to be on her side. She was just some sixteen-year-old nobody playing way out of her league. Donata Zajacova was the star. The phenom had been breaking records since Maya first picked up a racket. But Donata had started getting noticed at sixteen, too.
It still amazed Maya to think she was on the same court as someone she'd been a fan of for years. Never mind the fact that she was holding her own. More than holding her own, actually. She could win this.
Maya
could win this. Sure, she was behind a point, but this was the first time Maya actually believed she had a chance. She'd been too shocked at making it into the semifinal to entertain the thought that she might actually
win
.
Focus, Maya
, she warned herself as Donata prepared to serve. It was finally match point. The score had been tied for what felt like forever. If Donata scored, she'd win. Maya had to make sure that didn't happen. Then she needed to score three times to tie it again and then advance. It would be difficult, but not impossible. All she needed was a rally.
Pop
.
Thump
.
Pop
.
Serve. Bounce. Return.
Maya's body ran on instinct. All thought suspended as her reflexes kicked in. Two months of training at the Academy had brought her to a level of play she'd never experienced before. The extra work she'd been putting in on her own strengthened her game.
She'd been completely free of distractions the past two weeks. No drama. No diversions. No guys. If she could hold on, she'd advance to the finals.
She'd take on Nicole King.
Thump-pop
.
Thump-pop
.
Thump-pop
.
Whiff
.
Thump
.
Inches. Maya swung her racket and missed by inches. The ball hit the ground and bounced toward the back wall.
“In!”
Maya's knees nearly gave out. The energy drained from her body.
She lost. She'd come so close. But that was it. The tournament was over for her. Time to pack up and go back to the Academy, where she'd start her training over again.
Maya walked to the net to meet Donata. The court seemed much longer than it had during the match. Her legs were heavier now than when she was running all over the clay.
For the first time in the tournament, Maya felt totally alone. No one had come to see her play. Her parents couldn't afford the airfare, hotel, and tournament tickets. Her friends couldn't make the trip. The only person in the stadium who even knew her was Nicole. Having her there to witness Maya's failure was even worse than enduring it by herself.
Maya had to put all that aside. People were taking pictures. She needed to smile. It had to be genuine. The last thing she wanted was a shot of her with a scowl on her face going viral. It was time to suck it up and be gracious in defeat.
She reached a hand over the net to Donata. “Congraâ”
“Congratulations!” Donata yelled over the cheers and over Maya. “That was a great game! You really gave me a run for it there.”
“Um ⦠thanks?”
“We certainly gave them a show!”
“We did?” Maya wasn't used to this “we” stuff. Most of her tournaments ended with a quick handshake, then the victor smiled for the crowd while the loser skulked off in defeat. Donata refused to let go of Maya's hands as they posed together for the cameras with the net between them.
“Look at the clock,” Donata said over the crowd that was still cheering.
Maya glanced at the scoreboard and did a double take. Their game had lasted almost four hours.
Four hours!
No wonder her legs felt like concrete.
Maya knew they'd been running long when she checked the clock between sets, but four hours was an incredible marathon of a women's match. Now Maya understood why Donata wouldn't let her leave. They
had
put on a show.
Once the cheers started to die down, VIPs in expensive suits descended on the court. Donata held on to Maya's hand even tighter, pulling her toward the exit.
“Time to go,” Donata said.
“But I think they wantâ”
Donata shook her head, cutting Maya off. “Always leave 'em wanting more!”
Donata raised a hand to wave to the crowd as they walked off the court. Maya did the same, even though she wanted to stay and bask in the applause. People were calling out her name. People
knew
her name! Why would anyone ever leave that?
Pausing at the exit, Donata turned to face the crowd one last time. Maya did the same. The tennis star must have seen the disappointment in Maya's eyes as they both smiled and waved. “Don't worry,” Donata said. “It's not over. There's still the press conference.”
Press conference?
Maya was so glad she'd listened to Renee. She'd spent so much of her time over the past two weeks preparing her game for the Open that she hadn't thought for a second about her look. Thankfully her friend had that covered.
“Hope you don't mind. I picked up a few things from the pro shop.”
That's what Renee had said as she breezed into Watson 26, Maya's dorm room, the day before she left for the tournament. “Few things” was the biggest understatement Maya had ever heard in her life.
Renee had been loaded down with plastic bags with the Academy pro shop logo emblazoned on them. The bags were filled with outfits for every day of the competitionâas well as things to wear off the courtâall charged to Renee's parents' credit cards.
Maya had fought her, of course. At the time, she never imagined she'd be playing through most of the tournament. She also didn't like other people spending money on her. It only reminded her that she didn't have the money to spend on herself. But Renee had insisted and she was difficult to fight when it came to fashion.
“You're stepping onto the world stage,”
Renee had said.
“You can't debut in some ratty old tennis skirt that was clearly bought before your last growth spurt.”
Walking into the small reception room of the tennis club with rows of reporters watching her every step, Maya was glad she wore a brand-new, perfectly fitted, robin's eggâblue polo shirt with cream linen Bermuda shorts. It was the right combination of casual and sporty for the event.
Maya had never been in a press conference before, but she wasn't too nervous about it. Donata had won the match. The reporters would probably save all the questions for her. They'd just humor Maya for a few minutes before the tournament
publicist announced that time was up and the real show was about to begin.
Maya searched the room to see if anyone was looking at her like they wanted to know her story. It would be totally embarrassing if she sat up there in silence for her allotted time because no one cared about her.
The reporters had their heads down, texting or talking on their phones. They seemed blasé about the whole thing. They'd probably been through dozens of these. Hundreds. Press conferences happen at every professional tournament. It gave the media some sound bites to fill out their stories. Nothing Maya said was going to be on TV. Not even on the Sports News Channel. The Ontario Open wasn't a big enough event. No matter how big it was for Maya.
The reporters' heads rose in unison as the publicist tapped her microphone and brought the room to order, opening the floor to questions. Maya was thrilled to see almost every hand rise. They weren't straining to get out of their seats, tumbling over one another to get a word out, but there was at least some interest in her.
A woman who introduced herself as a writer for the Sports News Channel website got the first question. “Maya, your match today was the longest women's match in the history of the Ontario Openâ”
“It was?” Maya blurted out. She knew it had been a long game, but that was news. At least to her.
The SNC writer smiled. “It was,” she confirmed. “It beat the Mendal/Kunich match by five minutes. Did you think you had that in you to play at that level of intensity?”
“Ask me tomorrow,” Maya said, wondering herself how much her body was going to ache the next day. It caught her off guard when the reporters laughed at her comment. She'd made a joke! And they laughed!
“But seriously,” Maya quickly added. “I've been training for this for years. Just like everyone else here. We've all spent endless hours on the court. So in that way, I kind of hope I'd be prepared. On the other hand, I don't think anything can prepare you for this level of competition. And to play a match against one of my idolsâ
Donata Zajacova
âwho could
ever
be prepared for something like that?”
The hands rose again. Everyone in the room had a question for Maya. Well, everyone but a grumpy-looking reporter in the front row. He was clearly listening, but he didn't seem all that engaged.
The publicist called on a guy in the back of the room.
“What's your takeaway from the tournament?” the reporter asked. “How was it playing against your idol?”
“I'm mostly glad I didn't go home the first day,” Maya said. “Having the chance to play against Donata is more than I could have asked to get out of this tournament. She's such a powerful competitor. I learned more on that court today than in any training session in my life.”
The conference continued, with Maya getting more and more comfortable with each question. At one point, Maya stopped being nervous and started talking like she was with friends. She could see herself doing this more often. A lot more often.
