Chapter 8
Eight
An hour in, and Delilah still hadn’t made proper contact with the ball. Not once. Not even a glancing hit. She should have connected by accident at least a dozen times by now.
Cassie folded her arms, her jaw tight. She’d seen bad beginners before, but this was something else. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this shocked by someone’s complete lack of coordination.
She’d tried to keep things encouraging and low-pressure in her words, but it wasn’t doing anything. Delilah was the worst player Cassie had seen in all her life.
‘Look, try just watching the ball and letting your racquet meet it, like you’re catching it instead of hitting it,’ Cassie suggested, holding the ball in a gentle underarm.
Just at that moment, in the next court where some teenagers were playing, a laugh rang out. It could have been about anything at all. But it was Delilah’s last straw.
She fell out of pose, her body going slack, her shoulders beginning to shake. Tears spilt down her face as she turned and strode off the court, her racket dangling uselessly at her side.
‘Fuck this!’ she muttered.
Cassie stood frozen, caught off guard. She let Delilah walk away. After all, what could she do to help at this point?