Chapter 9- Rank One

"Deuce." Mark announced, calling out the score. There was a deuce for the final game. Clay and I had caught back up to Chris and Kyle, who had thought they were in the clear when they reached forty points and Clay and I still had none.

Kyle groaned, but not loud enough for Clay in the back of the court to hear. We were so close. Rank one was at our fingertips. Losing wasn't an option anymore. To get into the Island Open, Clay and I needed to get into Varsity by the end of next week. That was only eight days. We had four matches in both Seniors and Varsity to play, assuming we didn't lose any, which was highly doubtful.

Clay served a fast one to Chris, and I could see the fire in Chris' eyes. Whatever Chris had said to Clay during the Welcome Workout had sparked a fierce rivalry.

It was a fast and furious rally, mostly between Chris and Clay, but when I got to it, I smashed it behind Kyle for the advantage. I knew not to underestimate the two boys, since that would be making the same mistake they had made. It would cost them their Rank.

"Advantage, server."

Chris and Kyle were discussing a quick plan while Clay and I took a water break. "They weren't so tough." Clay grunted, mopping his brow with a towel provided by Mark. I nodded.

"They were all talk, and no action." I agreed.

"We're ready now." Kyle told us, and we returned to the court. Clay served a slower ball, which seemed to throw Kyle off somewhat, he barely returned it, and I smashed it to Chris. Chris lobbed it over my head to Clay, and Clay whacked it behind Chris. Kyle ran for it, and hit it, but it bounced and hit the net.

"Game, set, and match." Mark declared, clapping. "Clay and Ace win and move up a rank. Congratulations, you two." Pride shone in Mark's eyes as he smiled at us.

Kyle and Chris, meanwhile, were feuding with one another. "This is why we can't place in Seniors, you idiot!"

"It's not my fault." Kyle defended angrily. "If you weren't so clouded by hatred for that jerk Clay, we wouldn't have had this problem in the first place." Clay frowned and looked to me, but Mark seemed entirely used to their fighting.

"These two fight all the time." Mark explained after he saw the looks on our faces. "They can't place in Seniors, so they stay here and jeer at the Juniors all day. Unfortunately, I can't bail out on them." Marks sighed.

"Let me get this straight." Clay demanded, storming over to the net. "You act all big around the little guys because you can't place with the big guys?" Clay laid it out simply. Chris glared at him.

"I don't care what you think, you-" Kyle stopped his partner.

"We'll make you pay for this. You will regret beating us and you will regret coming to this Academy in the first place. I swear on it." Kyle promised, dragging Chris away. Chris barely protested.

Mark sighed. "Anyway, here, you two get these medals to prove you're worthy of the Seniors. Go get 'em, Ace, Clay. I expect to see you in this year's Island Open." Retreating to his bench, Mark left Clay and I with our small golden medals.

"We did it, Ace. We're Seniors." Clay seemed awestruck for some unfathomable reason. "I bet that if we keep this pace up, we can go to the Island Open."

"Why are you worrying about that?" I scolded gently. "We just beat all the Juniors without a single loss. I think we can make it beyond the Island Open." I replied. "For now, I think we should worry about placing with the Seniors."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Clay laughed. "Imagine two fourteen-year-olds winning the Island Open. We'd be the youngest ever." Clay noted. "Unless, of course, your birthday is before the Island Open." I shook my head. "Okay then, let's be the youngest in history."

"How old was Alex when he and Harry won the Open?" I questioned. Alex was probably only twenty now, if not younger.

"Well, it was after he and Harry graduated, so they were older than we would be." I nodded. Before now, making a world-wide record had never even crossed my mind. Maybe it was because I never realized what a direct link the Academy had to the Island Open.

"Let's go to the Senior Courts." I asked, and Clay nodded, but we were stopped by Meg.

"You can't go to the Senior Courts." She told us. "All the Seniors went crazy over those new Training machines, for those Power Shots. Nobody's there. You can't go play ranking matches."

"Oh." I responded. "Well, then, Clay, are you up for some Power Shot training? We don't really have much of a choice."

"I've noticed." Clay responded. Rolling my eyes, I led the way to the Training Center. Once there, Clay decided he didn't want to train, feeding me the excuse that he had to take care of some other things. Me, on the other hand, I still went to train.

The lobby was dotted with few people, and a purple haired girl told me that only Seniors and Varsity could use these machines. "Honestly, though," She continued. "I don't like them very much."

After my conversation with her, I went into the doors to the far right, with a large, colorful sign announcing, "Power Shots". Inside, there was a main hallway that led pretty far back, and off to the sides were desks. At the desks, I assumed that you went into the backroom to do the actual training. The people around me seemed flat out tired.

To the first left, was the machine Treadmill. Personally, it didn't sound too hard. What did you have to run? A couple of meters?

To the right was Swift Spin. What did spinning around in circles have to do with tennis? I wouldn't be able to find out, though, because a woman named Nina had been stationed there by Alex to keep the line of rowdy players down.

Beyond that were other machines, but Alex made it clear that they were unusable for the moment. I had to admit, I was shocked over how new these machines were to break down on their first day. How many people had been using them?

I decided to try the Treadmill, since no one was waiting in line. "Hello, Miss, would you like to try the Treadmill? All you have to do is run 100 meters, and dodge all the obstacles." At this point, I froze. Running and dodging at the same time? It still didn't sound very challenging, but I let a Senior boy ahead of me.

"Let me show you how to do it." He bragged. "I'm pretty good, you know. I'd love to help you." I gave him an icy stare, but he returned it with a smile.

Through the Plexiglas window, I watched as this boy got onto a huge treadmill. On a large screen behind him was how many meters he still had to run. "Start!" The woman announced, and the machine roared to life.

The boy started to jog. A few other people had gathered to watch. One, a girl who was panting, said, "It looks easy now, but wait. Wait 'till those stupid banana peels come, and those dumb barrels." Banana peels and barrels? Wasn't that sort of dangerous? Were they trying to get us killed?

The boy easily dodged the first few banana peels, and the first large wooden barrel. Every time an obstacle was about to come off the conveyer belt in front of the treadmill, the screen had a yellow warning sign appear, and a buzzer went off.

When the boy had about fifty meters to go, he jumped over the barrel, but tripped on the banana peel, and he fell off the back of the treadmill onto a few mats scattered along the bottom to break your fall.

Okay, so what have I learned today? Power Shot machines are dangerous. All the same, I wanted to try. The woman was explaining a Power Shot to the boy, even though he hadn't completed the level.

"I want to go next!" I cried, shoving my way past the few other people. The woman smiled.

"Okay, go ahead in." She smiled. I licked my lips. I was so ready for this. So, if Power Shots enhanced regular tennis playing, and Clay and I were already doing fantastic, this would just stack the odds against put opponent.

Clay and I were going to go to the Island Open, like it or not.