The school day was coming to an end. The scholars of Dawson Academy would add this day as a deposited into their cultured bank accounts. They only had forty-one minutes left until freedom.
Troy, Kevin, Malachi, and the new kid Lucas had tennis as their last class of the day. Spring Shore Tennis Center was made up of eight courts: four hard, two grass, and two clay. The clouds had parted, which allowed room for a ray of sun to shine down on the courts. On the far right, the boys clocked in their athletic routine on the clay court.
Troy tossed the neon yellow ball into the air. As the ball fell back towards the ground, he met it with his racquet. The ball fell over the net and landed in the service box. It was a beautiful serve, the kind that Roger Federer or Novak Djokovic would pull off at a Grand Slam. The ball spun off the court, flying right past a distracted Malachi who barely noticed it.
"Are you in the game or on the phone?" Troy threw up his well-toned arms. Tennis was his sport. Malachi played basketball like his father. Kevin played rugby like his English ancestors and Lucas did whatever. Troy didn't know the boy all that well.
"Faith's planning a party," Malachi informed dropping his phone in his basketball shorts.
Kevin returned Lucas' backhand, "That girl's always partying!"
"She's going to lose herself in New York next year," Troy said, bouncing the ball and causing pieces of clay to fly up.
"She's not my problem." Kevin left his court to join Malachi at the net. "She'll have to grow up sometime."
Lucas followed Kevin, "Aren't you going to miss the sanctuary of knowing everyone and how everything works?"
Kevin, Troy, and Malachi glared at him with tumult faces like the boy was speaking Icelandic.
"Hell no!" Kevin spat out. "I want some adventure, uncertainty!" His voice dripped with enthusiasm. "That's why I'm going to Oxford, its miles away from here," He gloated resting on the pole holding up the net.
Malachi shook his head at Kevin's zeal in telling everyone about his acceptance to the university across the pond and Troy smiled. They knew why Kevin was so excited. Considering Kevin's grades, there was skepticism that he would graduate at all.
A tennis ball from another court smashed Kevin in the back of his shoulder. Kevin's square face turned a crimson red as she peering in the direction the ball flew from, "Blake! You hit me with another fucking ball and I'm gonna kick your ass!" Kevin tried the flex the pain out as he turned back around pissing the middle finger Blake displayed.
Troy picked at his strings, "Lucas, where are you going in the fall?" He knew where almost all the one hundred and twenty-one seniors were going for higher education. Malachi would be a Big Green at Dartmouth. Faith would be partying it up at Colombia, and Maya would be studying hard at Yale, thanks to her many scholarships. He and Isabeth would be at Rice. Now, Rice University wasn't one of the eight ivies but it was the Harvard of Texas, which was the exact thing he told his parents.
"This is news to me" Lucas hit the white net with his racquet. "I thought we were all going to UCLA," Lucas smiled lightly.
Troy laughed out loud, "That was a joke, Lucas!" Kevin started laughing at Lucas' dumbfounded face. "It was our safe school. The one we could all get in... the backup plan." Troy's smile faded. "Is that the only school you applied to?"
Lucas looked passed the boys, "I thought that was kind of the point..."
"You're fucking kidding me, right? I know your parents are business professionals," Malachi stated forgetting Lucas' parents were no longer alive. "But our parents sent us to a boarding school where longhorns roam to get us away from Cali. My dad would never pay for UCLA."
"We're all going to Ivies, besides Isa and Troy." Kevin arrogantly uttered blocking the swing of Troy's racquet with his. "We're not changing our plans because you made an anomalous decision," Kevin told before leaving to gather with the rest of the class in front of their balding coach.
"Anomalous, huh?" Malachi shouted at Kevin. " You're still using those SAT words!" He chuckled turning his attention back to Lucas. "Look, bruh we've known each other since pre-k." He gestured to Troy and Kevin. "And we're parting ways. We just met you in...August. Our plans are like death, unchangeable." Malachi shrugged before jogging off toe catch up with the rest of the class.
Lucas stood there, alone, stewing on his mistake. He could see his friends walking back to the locker room, playing carelessly, without a care in the world. His fun, happy, doe-eyed exterior faded. His smile vanished, showing his stoic nature. His mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed. He didn't like playing the fool. He squeezed the handle of his green racquet. Anger built up like a teapot sitting on the blistering stove. He rammed the racquet into the clay repeatedly. The clay flew up and sprinkled his face with the red mineral.
"You can't win them all, Mr. Plaint!" The coach shouted as he came back for his record book left resting against the fence.
Lucas stopped swinging, "Of course." He yelled winded. "They won't win next time, though." He told with a wide smile. He ran up to the coach engaging in shoptalk.
Were the guys too harsh with Lucas or was did he make a foolish mistake?