Second Chance (Sweet Valley High Book 53) Read online

  "The thing is not to panic," Neil Thompson was saying. "I was talking to another coach about it today, and it's apparently one of the most natural phenomena in tennis. You take someone like Kristin—someone who's been under so much pressure all her life, working so hard for this goal—and it often happens that when she gets very close to making it, she'll clutch."

  Kristin poked at her food, hating this. How could they talk about her as though she wasn't even there?

  Dorrie seemed to guess how she was feeling. "It's been a rough year for you, hasn't it?" she said gently, turning to Kristin.

  Kristin pushed her vegetables from one side of the plate to the other. "Look," she said, "it's just that I sometimes think I wouldn't mind having a more normal life. I'd like to have more time to be with friends, to be with Emily. Or to go out on dates," she blurted.

  Mr. Thompson frowned. "I hope none of this has to do with that new friend of yours, Bruce," he said heavily. "I don't blame you for feeling some resistance every now and then, but to throw away a lifetime of work just for a boy . . ."

  Kristin shook her head impatiently. "That isn't it. It isn't Bruce, Dad. It's just—" She broke off. How could she explain that sometimes she wanted to erase that "lifetime of work"—to do away with all the pressure?

  "Kristin, sweetheart," Dorrie said soothingly, "you have to remember that the will to win is yours and yours alone. Neither your father nor I can give you that. If you feel we've been pressuring you . . ." She let her voice trail off, so it sounded almost like a question.

  Kristin gulped. "I do feel that way sometimes. I feel I can't make any of my own decisions. I know I want to play tennis and I want to win, but I want it to come from me, you know what I mean?"

  Mr. Thompson looked at her blankly. "We've tried to support you because you told us this was what you wanted, Kristin. Do you really think you're being fair?" Mr. Thompson cleared his throat. "Anyway, I don't see why any of us is getting so upset about this. After all, you did win the match today, Kristin."

  Kristin stared down at her plate.

  "And the way I see it, the most important thing between now and Sunday is for you to relax," he added encouragingly. "Try to take some of the pressure off yourself. Do what you can to get some of the joy back into your game."

  Kristin felt a sudden flash of hope. Maybe he would understand about the party after all! "I'm so glad you feel that way," she said warmly. "I've been torn about whether or not to go to a party I've been invited to, and just before dinner I called to say I could come. I'm glad you won't be upset."

  Mr. Thompson glanced quickly at Dorrie, then back at his daughter. "When's the party?" he asked her.

  "Saturday," Kristin said, pretending to concentrate on her food. She didn't add, "Saturday night." But she didn't have to. She could tell how upset her father was from his silence.

  Dorrie put her hand restrainingly on his arm. "You know," she said quietly, "I think Kristin is right about something. We've both been doing a lot of pushing for a long time now. Kristin's sixteen. If she makes the pro team, she'll be doing a lot of international traveling. She'll have some tough decisions to make, and we won't be there to help her." She gave Kristin a sad smile. "If we seem like we've been overinvolved, it's because we both love you so much, Kristin. We want what you want—or what we thought you wanted." She sighed. "In any case, I think it's important that you learn to make these choices on your own. If the party matters, fine. You're an athlete. You know your own limits and your own potential. The bottom line is, there's nothing anyone can do out there to make you win but you."

  Kristin held her breath. Her father was quiet for what seemed like an eternity. "Dorrie's right," he said, looking at Kristin with sad eyes. "I'm sorry," he added gruffly, getting to his feet. "Sometimes I forget myself." And with that he walked out of the room.

  Kristin felt her eyes fill with tears. "He means he forgets I'm not Mom," she whispered. And before Dorrie could say a word, Kristin pushed back her chair and dashed out of the room and up the stairs to her bedroom.

  But even there, there was no escape. Tennis trophies glinted at her from the far corner, as if to say, "See? All those years and years of hard work, and you're suddenly deciding this isn't important!"

  And there was the oval picture of her mother on the nightstand. This time when Kristin picked up the photograph, she thought her mother's eyes looked wistful, even through the laughter. It was as if she were saying, "Can't you do it for me, Kristie? Can't you pick up where I left off?"

  Kristin sat still on the bed, holding her mother's photograph in her hands. Why was it after all this time of being so focused, of knowing exactly what she wanted to do and why, that she suddenly felt so lost?

  It was like looking down a long dark tunnel, not knowing what she would find at the other end. The light she had seen there for so long wasn't there anymore to guide her.

  Nine

  Kristin had never been to a dance at the Sweet Valley Country Club before, and she felt uncomfortable walking through the front entrance alone. Bruce hadn't offered to pick her up—he had said he would see her there. Looking around, Kristin decided she had made a mistake in coming. Everything was so fancy! In the main room of the clubhouse, snowy linen tablecloths covered the tables, white flowers were everywhere, and little candles gave a soft-lit effect. To Kristin it looked like a movie set.

  As guests started to fill the big room, Kristin realized her flowered sundress wasn't appropriate for the party. She looked down uncomfortably at her sandals, wishing she had called someone up to ask what to wear. The Patmans' guests were in formal attire, and the girls Bruce had invited from school wore filmy, diaphanous dresses. Some even had corsages, as if it were a prom. Kristin felt increasingly out of place.

  Bruce was standing with his parents, greeting guests as they came in and steering people to the bar, where champagne and soft drinks were being served. "Kristin!" he said, walking toward her and smiling warmly. "I'm so glad you're here. I want to introduce you to my parents."

  Just then Amy Sutton sailed up, looking like a model in her spectacular new dress. She had a gorgeous hand-crocheted shawl around her bare shoulders, and she practically threw herself at Bruce, ignoring Kristin completely. "I'm so sorry I'm late," she gushed. She turned to the Patmans with a welcoming smile. "What a lovely party," she cooed, tucking her arm through Bruce's as if he were her escort for the evening.

  Kristin felt totally out of place. She waited for Bruce to break free from Amy and introduce her to his parents, but he seemed to be enjoying Amy's attention.

  After a couple of minutes Kristin headed toward the bar by herself. After all, Bruce was a host, she reminded herself. He had the rest of his guests to think about. He would come find her in a few minutes.

  "Come here often?" Winston Egbert asked teasingly, joining her in the line for soft drinks.

  Kristin turned to him with a grateful smile. She knew him from class and had always enjoyed his wisecracks. "To tell you the truth, no," she said. "Is there something I should know about how to behave?"

  "Just don't take lessons from our hosts," Winston said wryly. "See that?" He inclined his head toward the place where Bruce was standing, with Amy snuggled beside him. "That's what happens when too much money, good looks, and ego all hit in the same place."

  Kristin blushed. She had never heard anyone talk about Bruce before. Did he have a bad reputation?

  She didn't have a chance to ask Winston more about his remark because Bruce was coming toward them, with Amy in tow. Kristin hoped Bruce was coming over to talk to her, but she turned out to be wrong. Bruce stopped to say hello to every single girl in the drink line. He flirted outrageously, asked several girls to dance, and passed Kristin by with a smile no different from the smile he had given everyone else. Kristin bit her lip. Either she had been really confused about Bruce's invitation, or he had changed his mind, deciding she wasn't his date after all.

  As the evening wore on, it became clear to Kristin that
what Bruce wanted was to have his cake and eat it, too. He danced with her once, assuring her that he was thrilled she was there. He then had the nerve to say that having to spend time with anyone else was a complete bore, but the minute the dance was over he was off with Amy Sutton.

  By nine o'clock Kristin was convinced she should never have come. She sank down in a chair to adjust the strap of her sandal. She was debating whether or not to leave when she caught sight of Elizabeth Wakefield and Jeffrey French.

  "Kristin!" Elizabeth waved, hurrying over to join her. "Boy, I didn't expect to see you here tonight. Isn't tomorrow morning the final round of qualifying matches for the Avery Cup?"

  Kristin nodded. "I'm leaving soon," she defended herself. What she didn't add was that she should never have come. It would have been one thing to jeopardize her match for a really special evening. But this was just one big waste of time.

  "Well, good luck," Elizabeth said warmly. "I'm sure you'll do well. Who are you playing against?"

  Kristin frowned. "Sharon Owens," she said, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice. "She's really good. It's going to be a tough match."

  Elizabeth sensed that Kristin wanted to change the subject. "Some party, huh?" she said, shaking her head as she glanced around the ballroom.

  Kristin nodded. "Yeah, it's some party," she said unenthusiastically. "But I think it's about time to call it an evening. I've got to get a good night's sleep if I'm going to be worth anything tomorrow."

  She didn't bother trying to find Bruce to say good night. She thought he was probably dancing with Amy—again—and wouldn't even notice she had gone.

  Her father had let her have his car that evening, and the minute she got into the car Kristin breathed a big sigh of relief and leaned back. She couldn't tell whether or not she was glad she had gone to the party. She'd had a horrible time and was very relieved to be out of the country club. On the other hand, it was nice to know she hadn't been missing anything! If this was what it meant to be normal, Kristin didn't want any part of it.

  Sunday was one of the worst days Kristin had ever had. She felt she would never forget the match with Sharon Owens as long as she lived.

  Kristin knew she wasn't well rested. When she got home from Bruce's party, she had been unable to fall asleep, constantly tossing and turning as images of the party flashed through her mind. She woke with a start at six in the morning, terrified she had overslept, and then she couldn't get back to sleep. By ten o'clock, match time, Kristin was all jittery. She played well in the first set and won fairly easily, 6–2. But in the second set everything fell apart. She served badly and her backhand was weak. She lost, 4–6. The third set was grueling. Both she and Sharon were playing with everything they had. After all, the girl who won would go on to play in the Avery Cup tournament, as a member of Nick Wylie's pro team. This last set was all that stood between Kristin and her lifelong dream.

  Every muscle in Kristin's body ached with the effort of lobbing back Sharon's shots. The whole world seemed to vanish, except for the court and the ball flying back and forth between them. Sharon was ahead six games to five. Then they were tied, 6–6, which meant they would have to play a tiebreaker.

  Both girls were beginning to get tired. The score was nine points to eight, with Sharon still in the lead. A big crowd had gathered to watch, since the other matches were over. Nick Wylie, in his signature sunglasses, was watching from his usual perch in the bleachers.

  It was Kristin's serve. The ball went into the net.

  The spectators groaned in sympathy, but Kristin barely heard them. Her eyes were bleary, and she felt so tired she didn't think she could move. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but the second serve missed, too.

  "Game and match," the umpire called out.

  A huge burst of applause broke out, along with Sharon's delirious shout as she threw her racket in the air. Sharon had won. It was Sharon, and not Kristin, who had made the pro team.

  Kristin wiped her face off with a towel, fighting back tears. She was so tired and depressed, she didn't think she would make it off the court without breaking down. But first she had to shake hands with Sharon and confront Nick Wylie.

  "I'm sorry, Kristin," Nick said, coming onto the court and taking off his sunglasses. "You know we'll keep you as an alternate for the team. And you can always try again next year."

  Kristin nodded blindly. An alternate. She couldn't believe it. After all she had worked for!

  "Congratulations," she said stiffly to Sharon, trying to keep the misery from showing in her voice.

  But Sharon knew how she felt. "I'm sorry, Kris," she said softly as they shook hands. All the competitors knew how much it cost to lose. And Kristin had lost more than a match that morning. She had lost the dream of an entire lifetime.

  Dinner at the Thompsons' house was agony. Dorrie had joined Kristin and her dad, but no one had anything to say. They ate in deathly silence, broken only by short comments like "Please pass the bread."

  Kristin couldn't eat a thing. She was wondering how she was going to break the news to little Emily.

  "Can I be excused?" she asked finally.

  Dorrie and her father exchanged looks. Mr. Thompson nodded, and Kristin felt as if her heart was breaking. She didn't have to look her father in the eye to know how much she had let him down. It was bad enough failing herself, but failing him was the worst thing imaginable.

  Kristin threw herself facedown on her bed. She hated herself for having broken down during this tournament. To think she had wasted time going out with someone as shallow as Bruce Patman—that she had actually jeopardized today's match by going to his ridiculous party the night before! What was wrong with her? Didn't she have what it took to be a real athlete?

  Kristin was so busy punishing herself that she barely realized the door had opened and Dorrie had crept in.

  "Kris? Can we talk?" Dorrie said softly.

  Kristin stared at her dumbly. "There isn't much to say, is there? I made a real mess of everything." She swallowed hard. "I don't blame you and Daddy for being ashamed."

  "Oh, sweetheart, we're not ashamed! We're suffering because you're suffering!" Dorrie cried.

  Kristin sat up woodenly and stared at her mother's picture. "I'm glad she didn't have to live to see what a failure I've become," she blurted out.

  "Listen to me," Dorrie said firmly. "Your mother was a pro, Kris. She adored tennis. But there was something she loved a lot more than tennis, and that was you. I'm going to tell you something now that I probably should have told you a long time ago. Your mother was planning to quit tennis right after Wimbledon so she could stay at home with you and your father. She wanted a normal life. She wanted to have time to watch her daughter grow up." Dorrie blinked back tears. "She never ended up getting the chance, but I know if she were alive today she'd take you in her arms and say that being a winner in life doesn't depend on one match, or even a dozen matches. And you are a winner, Kristin Thompson. Do you hear me?"

  Dorrie pulled Kristin into her arms, and for once Kristin's self-control shattered. She cried her heart out, sobbing as though she would never stop. Something hard and icy in her was finally melting. When she looked up, her face was stained with tears. "I miss her!" Kristin cried. She had always thought her mother was the perfect champion. But knowing that her mother had worried about making sacrifices made her seem more human—and it made Kristin miss her even more.

  Dorrie was crying, too. "So do I," she said. And she hugged Kristin.

  Ten

  Kristin could barely face her father the next morning at breakfast.

  "Good morning, sweetheart," Mr. Thompson said, looking up from his newspaper. "Did you get some sleep?"

  Kristin felt worse than ever. The nicer her father acted, the more certain she was that he was just trying to cover what he really felt: profound disappointment.

  Kristin poured herself a bowl of cereal, then said flatly, "I slept OK." She pushed the cereal away, her appetite gone. "
Listen, I'm going to school. I want to get a head start on my homework before first period." She couldn't meet his gaze. "I'll see you this afternoon at the club, OK?"

  "Kristin—" Mr. Thompson began, but she was already hurrying out of the room.

  Kristin's heart sank when she saw Bruce Patman hanging out in front of the school with Adam Tyner and a few other seniors. Bruce was the last person she wanted to run into! She tried to walk past without stopping to say hello, but Bruce stepped in front of her, making little tsk-tsk motions with his finger.

  "Now, wait a minute," he scolded her with a knowing little smile. "Just where do you think you're going? Aren't you even going to explain where you ran off to on Saturday night? I felt like a total jerk. I was just about to dance with you when—"

  Kristin looked coldly at him. "Listen, I've got a lot of stuff to do," she said, trying hard to keep her self-control. She couldn't believe she had ever found Bruce Patman interesting. Now that she knew him a little better, she could tell how incredibly arrogant he was. The cocksure way he was grinning at her right now made her angry!

  Boy, she thought, I really lost my head for a while there. I sure hope next time—if there is a next time—I show a little bit better taste!

  She started to push past Bruce, but he put a restraining hand on her arm. "You're not going to walk off without an explanation, are you?" he demanded hotly.

  "Look, Bruce," Kristin said, pulling her arm away from his touch. "I don't owe you anything, least of all an explanation. In case you don't remember, you didn't pay one bit of attention to me the whole evening. And I happened to have had a match—a very important match—the following morning. If you worried about anyone even half as much as you worry about yourself, you would have remembered that." Without another word she stomped off into the building, leaving Bruce staring after her with his mouth hanging open.