“Fuck Fayette County,” Zed huffed, walking onto the tennis court.

“Word. It’s just Clayton County with golf carts,” Kai seconded. “And nice tennis courts.”

° ° °

The tennis court was thoroughly baked. Sol slumped to the hot ground, convinced her ass would catch on fire. Her mind started to swelter as well. What had Derrick been doing? Sol concentrated on Kai and Zed’s forms, hoping they could keep her from feeling violent.

Kai’s strokes were works of art, kinetic compositions. The fabric of reality seemed to dissolve and reform when she hit the ball, redirecting Zed’s wild shots with an impossible calmness. Sol remembered Zed as a staunch fundamentalist. Her frantic shots were a new development. Even if the ball’s trajectory was obvious, she would decide how to hit it at the last second. It was an odd style, but Sol could see its utility. Kai was returning the shots every time, but each return was less strategic and more reactive. Sol couldn’t believe these were just warm-up shots. She’d missed so much while she was away.

“First to eight games, win by two, switch every odd game,” Zed announced.

“Yep,” Kai agreed, throwing her racket into the air. “W.”

The racket clattered onto the ground, the “W” of the Wilson emblem facing down. She’d lost the toss. “Your serve,” Zed decided. Solemnly, they lined up on opposite ends of the court, tapping their rackets on the ground in tandem, their ritual.

“Love, love!” Kai roared, tossing the ball into the air and pummeling it toward the earth. It landed directly in front of Zed, who sidestepped it and responded with a quick backhand.

Sol’s neck stiffened as she watched the ball continually whizz over the net, propelled by grunts and devastating swings. Zed and Kai were only on the first point, but they were playing as if the point decided the match.

“Hey, Angel,” someone whispered to Sol. She turned around, fists clenched. The white guy from the basketball court smiled back at her through the fence, his eyes scanning her body, the sweat on his unformed muscles gleaming in the dim sunlight. Sol stood, meeting his gaze. He was shorter than she was.

“You girls from around here?” he stammered, feigning coolness. His eyes plunged to his feet like anchors in air as Sol silently stared him down, her arms crossed.

He spoke rapidly, his words dropping from his mouth like loose change from an overturned purse. “I’m throwing a party tonight. It will be pretty casual. Lots of guys. Only ten bucks.”

Sol remained silent, her gaze unbroken. “Lots of girls too…” he added.

The silence continued. “We’re not paying to get into a rando house party,” Sol finally said.

“Okay, you can get in free. Can I text you the address?”

“No, just tell it to me. Give me your number too.”

Sol was irritated by how quickly he obliged. She hadn’t shown him the slightest interest, but she could see the gears turning in his head, the fantasies unfolding.