AVERY WAS SHOCKED at the crowd that had showed up to watch the Fuller siblings’ showdown. Though technically, she supposed, the showdown was only half theirs.
She’d never competed in Altitude Club’s annual young members’ tennis tournament before. She’d always found the whole thing showy and false, much more about the after-party than the tennis. It was all white pleated skirts and high, bouncing ponytails and passed cocktails—an excuse for the young members to carry their unused rackets in a false show of athleticism. But a few weeks ago, at Altitude brunch, Max had seen the tournament advertised on the flickering display screens.
“Mixed doubles! Come on, we’re a great team.”
“I don’t really want to,” Avery hedged. She thought longingly of those golden summer afternoons back in Oxford, when she and Max would play against their friends on the clipped emerald courts of the public park. The games were loose and carefree. They never even kept score—the only thing they counted were the number of Pimm’s they had consumed—and when they got tired of playing, they would settle on the grass with a basket of cheese and baguettes, to feast in the glorious liquid sunshine.
“You love tennis,” Max had insisted. “What do we get if we win?”
“Nothing! Just our names on a plaque outside the locker room.”
“You’re telling me that you have the chance to win eternal glory and you’re passing it up? Frankly, I’m shocked,” he professed, which coaxed a smile from her.
“All right, fine,” Avery had proclaimed, throwing up her hands in mock surrender. She knew that Max was just trying to distract her from all the stress of the election and college applications. It was sweet of him, although misguided.
At least she was heading back to Oxford soon. Avery had been invited to interview there, which was a good sign; only the top applicants were asked to interview on campus. And Max would be coming back with her for moral support.
It would be a weekend away, she kept telling herself, just like old times. She needed that. She could use a reminder of what she and Max had been like this summer, before he came to New York with her—before the election, before Atlas came home. Before he kissed her.
She hadn’t realized that Atlas was planning on entering the tennis tournament too. But he did, partnering with his old friend Sania Malik, the same girl he’d taken to the Under the Sea ball last year, when he was trying to hide his secret relationship with Avery. In a strange turn of events, Sania was in Max’s class at Columbia, and they were friends, which made this whole thing even weirder.
Avery kept hoping that Atlas and Sania would fall out of the competition. But to the entire club’s surprise and delight, both of the Fuller pairs kept winning, climbing up their separate brackets until now they were facing off in the finals.
Now, standing against the baseline, Avery lifted her hand to shade her eyes. She’d never seen the stands of Altitude’s Centre Court so packed; but then, people always did love a good family rivalry. Especially when that rivalry was in the family of the newly elected mayor.
She saw a lot of her classmates, though there was no sign of Leda. Every time Avery had tried to meet up with her lately, Leda had proclaimed that she was busy. Avery just hoped that busy meant happy or with Watt. If so, then Avery would gladly stop pestering her.
She clenched her palms tighter around her racket. Max glanced back over his shoulder and winked at her. “You’ve got this,” he said softly. They had won the first set 6–4, but this one was much closer. Atlas and Sania seemed to have finally found their rhythm.
Avery nodded and looked across the court—directly into Atlas’s eyes.
Something in them made her catch her breath. A look, a plea, something so fleeting that Avery couldn’t even begin to make sense of it, just as the ball abruptly collided with the court near her feet. She blinked, startled. She had lost the set.
The announcer called their five-minute changeover period. On the other side of the court, Max was already grabbing his electrolyte drink, chatting easily with Sania. Avery watched in dazed fascination as they leaned in and snapped a selfie, as if this whole thing were casual, good-natured fun.
She stalked over to the hydration station on their side and grabbed a water. Atlas gave a rueful smile, nodding to where their parents sat in the bottom row of the stands, surrounded by eager well-wishers. “Mom and Dad clearly think this is hilarious,” he remarked.
Something about the comment rankled Avery. “It is hilarious,” she said tersely. “You being here, playing tennis against me, as if we’re any old brother and sister who happened to make it to the finals. The new mayor’s kids’ epic showdown. What a hilarious joke,” she spat, twisting angrily at the cap of the water bottle.
Atlas seemed saddened by her outburst. “You’re the one who said to forget that anything ever happened with us. To act like normal siblings.”
Normal siblings. As if they could ever go back to that.
“I’m sorry, I just . . .” she said helplessly as the buzzer sounded.
It wasn’t fair of Atlas to do this to her. She’d been doing just fine before he came back to town and threw everything into disarray. Why couldn’t he have stayed on his side of the world?
But she hadn’t been fine, a small voice inside her whispered. She hadn’t been fine since the moment she set foot back in New York, and all her old problems came rushing back to meet her.
There was a slight buzz near her head as Avery lined up along the baseline. Another zetta, hoping to get a good shot for whoever was watching on the feeds. All right, she thought, suddenly angry. If they wanted to see flawless, famous Avery Fuller, she might as well give them a show.
Avery tossed the ball into the air and incinerated it with her serve. The shot whipped past Sania before the poor girl could react. Avery felt oddly gratified by the startled expression on Atlas’s face.
She kept on playing like that, fueled by a hot, queasy adrenaline. She played so fiercely that she was no longer thinking, not about Atlas or Max or her parents’ laughter or the blurred, painted faces of the crowd. It felt good to shut down her brain like this, to become nothing but a bundle of fast-twitch nerve endings in a shiny package.
She won one game after another with almost no assistance from Max, who tried a few times to make a shot or two, only to interfere with the blaze of her warpath. Eventually he stood aside and just let Avery play the game herself. Across the court, Sania had done the same.
But that was how she’d wanted it, wasn’t it? A singles match, her versus Atlas?
She won the remaining games one after the other, stacking them neatly in a row, until suddenly it was match point. When the ball came toward her, Avery barreled it across the court at full force. Atlas barely managed to hold up his racket, sending the ball straight into the net.
Avery forced her lips to curl into a smile. She walked up to the net to thank Sania and Atlas, trying to ignore the bright, hot yells of the crowd.
Atlas didn’t say anything when they shook hands. He barely touched her at all.
“Damn, you really turned up the heat out there! I don’t think I’ve seen that side of you before.” Max threw an arm around Avery’s shoulders and leaned in, his breath warm in her ear. “It was kind of a turn-on, seeing you get that competitive.”
Avery nodded and smiled mechanically. Max probably still thought that he’d helped take her mind off things. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she only felt worse.
People began swarming onto the court in congratulations, a million grinning faces seeming to leer up at her. A white tent had been set up nearby—only at Altitude did they feel the need to pitch a tent indoors—where pink champagne was being passed on engraved trays.
Avery couldn’t help looking over at Atlas.
When their eyes met he gave a sad smile, and the sight of it turned Avery’s victory to ashes in her mouth. Unlike everyone else here, Atlas knew her. He knew what that display on the court had meant, how strangely unsettled Avery was feeling. And he knew that he was the reason.
Avery couldn’t take his eyes on her anymore. She rose on tiptoe to kiss Max, letting her racket clatter dramatically to the ground as she wrapped her arms very publicly around him, drawing out the kiss much longer than she needed to.
When she finally stepped away, her eyes darted reflexively to Atlas. He was retreating toward the Altitude Club exit. She realized, with a flush of shame, that it was exactly what she had intended.
“Ready to go in?” Max asked good-naturedly, with a nod to the party.
Avery nodded, holding tight to his hand like a lifeline. She needed Max right now, to reassure her that she was still here, still herself. That she was the Avery Fuller he knew and loved, and not the broken girl who Atlas had left in his wake all those months ago.