"I promise granpapa."
Ace Wells, a girl with fair skin dusted with freckles, dark blonde hair caught in two very childish looking pig tails and somber blue eyes was standing just outside the court, carefully stretching and warming her body for when she would eventually be called. It was the middle of August, she wore her checked red and white skirt with black shorts underneath and a simple matching t-shirt, her black sneakers worn but comfortable. Her racket awaited its use as player after player was called into the court to face one of the evaluating coaches in what they ironically called the Welcome Workout.
Ironically because, as she watched, Ace had a large feeling most of the kids (especially the ones that ran off the court crying) wouldn't be welcome come September when the official academy year begins. Unlike most of the other kids who were also watching the stream of defeated players, she didn't blame the coaches. They were doing their job and it wasn't their fault if most of the players that were trying to enter the academy played as if they had picked their rackets for the first time yesterday. Instead of complaining or dreading her coming call, she took it upon herself to watch how each coach played carefully.
Coach Mark, a cheerful guy apparently in his late twenties with dark auburn spiky hair, a soft tan and deep violet eyes. He played in an almost child-like manner, in the sense that he liked to have some fun with the hopeful new players. He often tricked the players into traps they couldn't get out of and would put an abrupt, random end to each match, claiming he had seen enough and sending the unlucky fellow back to the sidelines. The players were so baffled they complied without a problem.
Coach Emily was the one sending them crying into their mama's arms. With light blonde hair caught back into a neat ponytail and eyes so dark they could be black, she played with a brutality that dazzled the player for the rest of the game. She played a single set with everyone who could make it that long, most of them quit halfway though, not able to withstand the cruelty of her playing style nor the sharp instructions she would offer, trying to turn them into better players even as she ruled them out.
When the pair had introduced themselves, Ace had thought two people wouldn't be enough to sort through the large number of candidates but she was successfully proven the contrary as they had begun shortly after lunch and only ten or so people were left to be evaluated. Her included. One of them, a kid who looked even younger than her 16 years, approached her out of nowhere, a serious look on his face as he nodded and she returned the gesture. He was short, with ghost white skin, narrow eyes and bowl cut black hair.
"I'm going home now," he explained as if Ace was supposed to understand. Did he know her from somewhere? Since she wasn't really sure she simply nodded again. "Despite what my brothers said, I wanted to come and see what the Royal Academy is like."
"You haven't been called yet," she suddenly remembered to comment.
"No…this isn't my academy of choice," the kid explained, slightly grimacing when Coach Emily's current adversary started crying. Ace shrugged and simply nodded again. "People here stopped enjoying playing tennis a long time ago. All they're interested is winning, advancing through ranks and more winning. Not that my academy isn't the same, but at least it's closer to home. The point isn't winning though, even now, the coaches aren't really expecting you to win."
His words were interested and Ace was about to ask what, then, were the coaches expecting of them but her name flashed on the screen and then called over the speakers and her attention was pulled from the kid. "Is that your call? Your name is Ace? Well, good luck Ace. It'll be good if we meet again."
He left as quickly as he arrived and she wasn't about to miss her chance so she checked her shoe laces, grabbed her racket and walked to take her place on the tennis court. They were using one of the outside fields, near the entrance of the academy grounds. The sun was already setting so they were turning on the lights above the court as she stood waiting to see which of the coaches would be evaluating her play. Ace was fairly confident but she knew a lot of hard work would have to be put whether she faced Coach Emily or Coach Mark. No one on the sidelines cheered, no member of her family had come to see her but Ace really didn't care. The remaining players were busy trying to come up with whatever tactics or plans might help them win their own matches and the ones that had already played were probably showering or leaving the campus already.
She was surprised, however, when a completely different person walked to stand on the other side of the court. Ace heard whispers behind her and some kids rose their hands, shrugged and left as if they had suddenly lost all hope of ever getting inside. He picked up a ball and sent it flying her way, apparently wanting her to be the first to serve. She looked at the neon green ball and back at the coach. He wore blue, was tall and had messy dark brown hair, that was about the maximum she could examine him all the way across the court. Ace's hands shook.
This was the Welcome Workout, an event that happened every August when the Royal Academy opened its gates to any new player who wished to study under some of the best players in the world. She only had this one chance to make it inside, no way her family would allow her a second try the following year. Ace just couldn't mess this up. Swallowing, hard, she asked. "How many games?"
She could see his smile from far. Laughing or maybe mocking. "No games, no sets. We play until you give up."
Ace blinked, looked at the ball like a hawk looked at its prey, threw it up and smashed her racket against it.