Second Chance (Sweet Valley High Book 53) Read online

  "That's terrific!" Elizabeth broke in.

  Kristin raised a hand in warning. "But my schedule is insane, Liz. Even under ordinary circumstances I wouldn't have time for this. I work out in the morning before school and every day after school till dinnertime. I do my homework in the evening, and my weekends are devoted to tennis." She frowned. "I don't want to let Emily down. If I sponsor her, she'll have to understand that I won't have as much time for her as I'd like to."

  Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. "I really appreciate your telling me in advance how busy you are." She thought for a minute. "Do you think you'd be able to see Emily once a week? That's what the foundation has asked us to be able to promise the girls. Remember," she added, "Emily might be thrilled just to come and practice with you."

  "I hadn't thought of that," Kristin admitted. "I don't see why Emily couldn't come to practice with me whenever she wants! In fact, my schedule will slow down a little in about ten days. Do you know about the Avery Cup tournament?" she added.

  "I've heard of it. Is it coming up?"

  Kristin nodded. "I'm trying to qualify to play in it. If I make it—which I think I will—I'll be slowing down my practice schedule right before the tournament. That might be a really good time to get to know Emily better." She smiled. "So I guess I can do it after all!"

  "Great. I know it will mean the world to this little girl," Elizabeth said.

  Kristin nodded. What would her father and Dorrie think? Wasn't she picking the worst possible moment to make any sort of commitment outside of tennis?

  But Kristin didn't care. Sponsoring Emily Brown in the Big Sister program was something she had to do. Whatever it took, she would find a way to make it fit into her schedule.

  At the beginning of Kristin's last class, the teacher handed her a message that had been phoned in to the main office. It was from Dorrie. "I forgot to tell you I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon and won't be at the club until 4:30. See you then."

  Kristin folded the note and put it in her pocket. Usually she met Dorrie at three-thirty. That meant she had a whole extra hour to herself, to do whatever she wanted.

  Kristin started daydreaming about having every afternoon free. What a luxury it would be to wander off to the beach, get together with friends, or simply read a novel.

  But when the class was over, Kristin suddenly didn't know what to do with herself. After all, an hour wasn't really long enough to go to the beach. She headed outside, watching groups of students joking around, getting into cars, and plopping down on the front lawn to enjoy the sun. Kristin tied her jacket around her waist and squinted into the sunlight. Well, she would just wander around for a while, she told herself.

  Without really knowing where she was going, she strolled behind the school to the playing fields. She saw a small group gathered at the tennis courts and decided to watch whoever was playing.

  At first she thought the blond at the front of the spectators was Elizabeth, but then she saw A. J. Morgan, who was in Kristin's English class, sitting next to her, and Kristin realized that the girl was Elizabeth's twin sister, Jessica. She knew the others only by name: Amy Sutton, Lila Fowler, and Cara Walker.

  "Hi, Kristin," Cara and A.J. said when she wandered up to them.

  "Hi," Kristin said shyly. She glanced at the court where two boys were warming up. "Who's playing?"

  "Bruce Patman and Adam Tyner," Cara explained. "Bruce'll win for sure. He's really good."

  Kristin looked curiously at Bruce. She had passed him a few times in the hallway, and he had talked to her briefly one day when she was hitting a few balls after school. He was strikingly good-looking, with the kind of dark, overpowering appearance that made a strong and immediate impression.

  "And, boy, does he ever know it," Jessica complained. "I've played with Bruce a few times, and it's a real ordeal. He thinks he's such a star!"

  Kristin's curiosity was piqued.

  "Hey, Jess," Cara teased, "remember who you're talking to. Kristin's ball boys are better tennis players than Bruce Patman is!"

  Jessica laughed. "That's right," she said affably to Kristin. "You're the one who's a star. Hey," she added, her eyes brightening, "you ought to play a quick game with Bruce and show him what real tennis is like!"

  Kristin blushed. "No, that's OK," she said quickly.

  But Jessica didn't let go of the idea. "Hey, Bruce," she called. "You've got a pro watching you now. Why don't you let her give you a few pointers?"

  Bruce glared at Jessica, but his expression softened when he caught sight of Kristin. "Hi," he said, waving at her.

  Kristin waved back and sat down on the grass to watch him play. If Bruce was embarrassed, he didn't show it. He wasn't a bad player, and he certainly outclassed his opponent by about a mile. He had a good strong serve and made some very nice, clean shots. Kristin found herself watching him the way she watched any tennis player—with an eye on his technique. She couldn't help noticing one or two areas of his game that needed some work.

  When Bruce and Adam took a break, Bruce wandered over to Kristin, looking at her with interest. "So, champ," he said in a teasing voice, "how'd I do?"

  Kristin looked at him seriously. "Not bad," she said. "But you'd do better if you kept your arm completely straight on your backhand. Also, you're taking two steps when you serve instead of one." She frowned. "And always keep your eye on the ball."

  Bruce was silent for a minute. He rolled back and forth on his feet, looking at her. "Thanks," he said shortly, then turned back to Adam.

  Kristin saw that he had paid attention to what she said. His next game was ten times better. He won by a satisfying margin.

  "That was nice," she said calmly, when he walked over to her.

  "Hey," Bruce said, clearing his throat, "why don't you hit a few balls with me? Let's see your stuff."

  Kristin felt incredibly awkward. She had never played with anyone from school before. And even though Bruce was good, she could tell she would be able to beat him. "No, I really shouldn't," she murmured.

  "Oh, come on," Bruce insisted. "Adam will lend you his racket. Just one game."

  The crowd started to cheer, and finally Kristin agreed. "OK. But just one," she said uneasily, getting to her feet.

  She felt strange facing Bruce across the net. Adam's racket was heavier than the one she was used to, and she missed the first serve.

  When her concentration came back, she hit two amazing volleys. Everyone cheered wildly, and Kristin felt the way she always felt when she was winning—wonderful.

  Then something strange happened. She was watching Bruce bend for the ball, and it suddenly struck her how humiliated he was going to feel, losing to a girl in front of his friends. That was not the kind of thought Kristin usually had, but she had it then. At the same time she was thinking how handsome Bruce Patman was.

  She let her next two serves go into the net. Then she flubbed a volley. Bruce ended up winning the game.

  "Thanks," she said lightly. "You're a good player. You learn fast."

  Bruce's eyes were fixed quizzically on hers. "I'm the one who should be saying thanks," he said as they shook hands. The pressure of his fingers made her face turn red.

  She could tell that some of the spectators were surprised. Jessica looked especially disappointed. "I was sure you'd win," she said to Kristin.

  Amy Sutton gave Kristin a chilly look. "I told you Bruce is incredibly good," she said imperiously.

  Kristin looked uncertainly back at Bruce. He wasn't paying attention to what anyone was saying. His eyes were fixed on her, silently thanking her for letting him win.

  "Well, thanks for the game," Kristin repeated awkwardly. "I have to get going now. I'm supposed to meet my coach at practice in about ten minutes."

  Bruce grabbed his racket cover and started to follow her across the lawn. "Let me give you a ride," he offered. "I've never driven a real pro to practice before."

  "I'm not a pro," Kristin said hastily. "Not yet." She smiled at him,
her face feeling warm again. "And thanks for the offer, but I've got my bike here."

  "You can come back for it later. Let me take you," Bruce pleaded. "I really want to."

  Kristin was surprised. It was nice having Bruce pay so much attention to her. "OK," she said at last. She was stunned when the car Bruce led her to turned out to be a black Porsche.

  "This is yours?" she asked incredulously. Kristin was so removed from school gossip that she knew very little about Bruce Patman. Well, now she knew he must come from an incredibly wealthy family.

  Bruce seemed to enjoy her amazement. "Nice little car, isn't it?" he said smoothly, opening the door for her.

  Kristin got in without a word. She wondered what her father or Dorrie would say if they saw her being dropped off at the club in a Porsche, especially a Porsche driven by a boy who looked like Bruce.

  "So how come I've hardly seen you around school?" Bruce was saying as he expertly backed the car out of the parking spot. "I know I would've made a point of spending time with someone as pretty as you."

  Kristin felt her cheeks flame. No one had ever told her she was pretty before. "I, uh, practice a lot. And I do my homework during lunch hours," she blurted out.

  Bruce laughed. "Bad habits," he remarked. "You'll have to take lessons on how to have a good time." He grinned lazily at her. "And I know just the person for those kinds of lessons."

  Kristin swallowed hard. "I don't have much time," she repeated. "The Avery Cup tournament is coming up. If I qualify, I'm going to be under a lot of pressure for the next few weeks."

  "Don't sweat it!" Bruce advised with a smile. "You'll qualify, and you'll win. You're a champ, Kristin." He stretched his right arm out so that it lay along the back of Kristin's seat. "I have a great idea," he said. "What are you doing this weekend?"

  Kristin laughed. "Playing tennis," she said. Wasn't that what she did every single weekend?

  "Don't tell me you play tennis Friday and Saturday nights!" Bruce exclaimed.

  Kristin shrugged. "I do. Till about nine o'clock, anyway. And then I go to bed early so I can get up and practice again."

  "Sounds like an incredible grind," Bruce said. He was still smiling, and Kristin couldn't tell whether or not he was kidding.

  "If you want to be a pro, that's the kind of life you have to lead," she said matter-of-factly.

  "Well, listen to me, pro," Bruce said, pulling the Porsche up in front of the club and turning to her with a grin. "How about taking one evening off and coming with me to see a movie on Friday night?"

  Kristin stared at him wide-eyed. Was he asking her out on a date?

  "Come on," he said again. "I won't take no for an answer."

  Kristin could see Dorrie getting out of her station wagon in the parking lot. The last thing she wanted was for Dorrie to see her with Bruce. "OK," she said hastily. "But I've got to get going now. That's my coach over there."

  She didn't wait to hear Bruce's response. Kristin hurried out of the car, thinking that she would worry about Friday night when it rolled around. For now she had a bigger problem to face. It was 4:35, and for the first time in her whole life, Kristin was going to be late for practice.

  Five

  "I still don't see why you wouldn't let me pick you up at your house," Bruce complained. It was Friday evening, and Bruce had just picked Kristin up at a corner half a block from her house. They were headed to the Sweet Valley Cinema.

  "Oh, I just thought this would be simpler," Kristin said. She didn't want to tell Bruce the truth—that her father would have objected if she had told him that she was going out on a date. He would have been concerned she was losing too much sleep before the tournament. So instead of a date, Kristin told him that she had to stop practicing early to do some research at the public library. "The library's open late on Friday nights," she had said. "And I can't get the books I need at school." Mr. Thompson hadn't looked thrilled. "I'm going out for a while myself," he'd said gruffly. "So I won't be home when you get back. But be sure you get to sleep early."

  Kristin glanced sideways at Bruce. He seemed so sure of himself, so completely at ease. She didn't think he'd understand, and she didn't feel like explaining right now. "I have to be back early," was all she said with a rueful smile. "I have practice at nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

  Bruce shook his head. "You have to learn how to relax," he scolded her lightly. "Don't you know there's more to life than tennis?" He gave her a warm smile, and she felt her cheeks flush.

  That evening, for the first time she could remember, Kristin became convinced that Bruce might be right. She had so much fun joking around on the ticket line, sitting close to Bruce, and trading opinions when the movie ended. When Bruce reached over to hold her hand, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. And Kristin was having so much fun she honestly didn't want to go home after the movie. But it was already ten o'clock, and she didn't know when her father was getting home. She wasn't going to make things worse by going to the Dairi Burger.

  "No, Bruce, really," she protested. When he didn't seem to believe her, she added, "I'm under a lot of pressure right now. The Avery Cup means everything for my future. If I mess up at this tournament, my whole tennis career could be jeopardized. I have to be extra careful not to vary my routine too much for the next few weeks." She glanced down at the ground, embarrassed. "I had fun tonight, Bruce. I hope you'll be patient with me and give me another chance sometime."

  "I guess I might," Bruce teased. "But I have to tell you, I'm not used to girls who have to be home by ten o'clock on a Friday night."

  Kristin blushed deep red. "Sorry," she said, apologizing for seeming like a twelve-year-old. But deep down she knew she was right to insist on going home. If Bruce was worth getting to know, he would understand how much tennis meant to her. Still, Kristin couldn't help wishing she didn't have to live by a strict schedule.

  When Bruce pulled up in front of Kristin's house, he turned to her and looked deeply into her eyes. "You're an amazing girl, Kristin. I've never met anyone like you before." He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. "I'd like to see you again. I'm sure I'll be able to distract you, Kristin Thompson."

  Kristin smiled nervously. Getting distracted was exactly what she was afraid of.

  "Where are you going?" Jessica muttered sleepily at the breakfast table on Saturday morning.

  "Over to the tennis club," Elizabeth explained as she slipped into her jacket and picked up her backpack.

  "Mr. Collins wants me to write a special piece for the paper on Kristin and the Avery Cup tournament. I spoke to her father on the phone last night, and he said if I arrived a little before nine that I could ask her a few questions." She shook her head. "Kristin's got some schedule to follow! I don't see how anyone could be so disciplined."

  Jessica groaned as she reached for a muffin. "I don't see how anyone can leave the house at this hour. I wouldn't have gotten up at all, except that I was hungry. I'm going back to bed as soon as I finish breakfast."

  Elizabeth laughed. It was twenty-five minutes to nine when she left the house and drove off in the Fiat. She left the car in the club's parking lot and strolled out to the grass courts. Elizabeth noticed an attractive woman in tennis whites who looked like she was waiting for someone. "Hello," Elizabeth said, introducing herself and explaining that she was with the school paper. "I was hoping to ask Kristin Thompson a little bit about the Avery Cup before she started practice," she said.

  "I'm Dorrie Graham, Kristin's coach," the woman said with a warm smile. "Maybe I can give you some information while we wait for Kristin." She looked down at her watch with a frown. "It isn't like Kristin to be late. I know that her father gave her the message that you wanted to interview her."

  "Well, maybe you could tell me a little bit about the Avery Cup selection process," Elizabeth said, taking out her notebook and sitting down on the bench.

  She and Dorrie chatted for about five minutes, and Elizabeth took careful notes. She was going t
o ask about the history of the tournament when a handsome gray-haired man came striding toward them. "Good morning, Dorrie," he said. He smiled politely at Elizabeth, then looked around in confusion. "Where's Kristin?"

  "I haven't seen her, Neil," Dorrie said. She glanced quickly at Elizabeth. "This is Elizabeth Wakefield, one of Kristin's classmates. She's here to interview Kristin before practice starts."

  "Oh, yes. We spoke on the phone." Mr. Thompson put out his hand to shake Elizabeth's. "Well, I don't know where she could be. I left her a note last night telling her that you'd be here, and I specifically asked her to get to practice early. I left home early to run some errands, and I thought she'd bike over."

  Elizabeth smiled, slightly embarrassed by the critical tone in his voice. "I'm not in any hurry," she said quickly. "I don't mind waiting."

  But Mr. Thompson was clearly upset. "It isn't like Kristin to be late," he said, annoyed. He looked quizzically at Dorrie. "Did she tell you she had somewhere to go this morning?"

  "Neil," Dorrie said softly, "it's just a little past nine now. She'll be here."

  Elizabeth noticed with relief that Kristin was hurrying toward them. She couldn't believe what a big deal Mr. Thompson was making about his daughter being a few minutes late, and it made her curious about Kristin. How could she stand having her father and Dorrie hover over her that way? Or was that just part of what it meant to be a dedicated athlete?

  "I'm really sorry," Kristin said, pushing her hair back from her face. "I overslept!" She looked sheepishly from her father to Dorrie. "I didn't hear the alarm."

  "Well, it's not the end of the world," Dorrie said, patting her on the arm. "You're here now, aren't you?"

  But Mr. Thompson was frowning at her. "Maybe you're not getting enough sleep," he said with concern. "Did you get to bed early enough last night?"

  Kristin looked away as she said, "Yes, I was in bed by eleven." Which was the truth. What she couldn't tell her father was that she was so excited about having gone out on a date that she had laid in bed, thinking about it, unable to sleep. She had still been awake at one o'clock.