The Champion He Didn't Deserve

Chapter 3

Sylvie, who happened to be my mother and my coach, tore into me the moment I walked through the lounge door. My face was ghostly pale, but she showed absolutely no concern. Only razor sharp anger.

"What is wrong with you?" she spat. "Losing every match lately, and now this scandal? You are a disgrace."

My silence only poured gasoline on her rage.

"I only let you play tennis because you showed some promise," she continued. "But if you keep humiliating me like this, you can get out of my house. And you will apologize to Rosalind. Today."

Sylvie had devoted her entire life to tennis. Her talent had only taken her as far as the provincial squad though. She never broke through to the national level. She had pinned all her hopes on Lucas first, her golden child. But when I turned out to be the more gifted one, she grudgingly let me train too. He always remained her favorite though.

Yet she acted like she had moved mountains for me. She drove me relentlessly, always reminding me of her sacrifice.

I faced her tirade and stayed eerily calm.

"Did you even bother to find out what really happened?" I asked. "Why do you automatically blame me?"

My pushback stunned her. She took it as outright rebellion.

Thwack. The rod came down across my back.

"How dare you talk back to me," she shouted. "After everything I have done for you."

The searing pain shot through my body. I gritted my teeth and dug my fingers into my shirt. I refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Then suddenly she stopped.

I knew why immediately. Someone had entered the room. She would never pause her performance otherwise.

I looked up. And there she stood. The one person I could not face right now. Rosalind.

Her face wore a mask of concern, but I caught the triumphant glint in her eyes. She handed Sylvie a water bottle and oozed fake sympathy.

"Mrs. Hill, please do not upset yourself," she said. "Stress ages you so much. Clover, you really should appreciate your mother more. Everyone knows how hard she has pushed for you."

Sylvie instantly latched onto Rosalind's hand like she was her savior.

"At least someone around here understands," she said. "You would not believe what I have to put up with."

I could not take another second of this humiliation. Not with Rosalind standing there as audience. I grabbed my gear and bolted for the door.

The kicker was that Rosalind lived right next to the training center in a nice house. I was stuck in a cramped dorm room.

Behind me, Sylvie's screeching and Rosalind's honeyed words faded as I shut them out. All I wanted was to vanish somewhere quiet. Somewhere alone.

But gossip dogged my every step. Every word I had said and every move I had made had been warped beyond recognition. People talked like I was some irredeemable monster. Damned from the beginning.

Then in my desperation, I remembered our secret hideout. Mine and Wyatt's.

All I wanted was some alone time in that special spot.

I walked past my dormmates with their suspicious stares and raised eyebrows. I tossed my bag onto my bed and made a beeline for the woods.

I had barely reached the clearing when Rosalind's saccharine voice floated through the air.

"Wyatt, Clover probably did not mean any harm," she was saying. "Her mother already disciplined her. Please do not start another argument over this."

Wyatt's face softened at her seemingly generous words.

Through a narrow gap in the old boards, I spied their embrace. I saw the tender way his fingers traced her back.

My chest constricted with a bitter ache.

This sacred space belonged to us. Just us. This was where we had first confessed under moonlight. Where we had shared every triumph and heartbreak over the years.

When had I become the outsider in my own sanctuary?

Each whispered endearment between them felt like a knife twisting in my ribs.

I turned to leave when Rosalind's question rooted me to the spot. I stood there like a deer caught in headlights.

"Wyatt, do you think Clover will pass the national team trials?" she asked. "Do you think I have what it takes?"

My breath caught in my throat. I dreaded his response, but I craved it in equal measure.