Break Point Read Online Free Page A

Bruno’s biggest weakness was his lack of accuracy. Too often his shots bounced long or wide, giving his opponent points on unforced errors. I knew I needed to collect those points to win the game.
    I arrived at my court a few minutes before game time and looked around to see if Maddy might have come by to watch me. She wasn’t there, but I spotted Rex hanging around with his coach.
    At 10:00 am, the match started. For the first couple of games, I kept trying to sneak the ball past Bruno. I would put it right down the line, or crosscourt in the far corner where I thought he couldn’t reach it. But those lightning-fast feet lived up to their reputation. Worse, I kept hitting balls outside the line, because I was trying too hard to score a winner. Midway through the first set, with the score a miserable 0-3 in Bruno’s favor, I realized that if I wanted to win, I had to stop giving away points against myself.
    From then on, I stuck to what I was good at—big serves and hard hits from the baseline. I drove the ball into his court with all my force and waited for him to make a mistake. I soon found that the harder I hit it, the more often Bruno’s returns went flying out of bounds. I couldn’t recover from my deficit on the first set. But I won the next two, 6-4 and 6-3. Bruno looked surprised to be overturned by a kid ranked so far below him. But he shook my hand like a good sport.
    The semifinal match lay ahead of me. My opponent, Rex Hunter.
    We shook hands before the match and wished each other a good game. We were supposed to be pals, I guess, since we belonged to the same club. But I didn’t feel any loyalty to Rex. He’d been a member at our crosstown rival, the Rideau Tennis Club, since he was a little kid. He’d only switched to our club this year, after his family moved into a brand-new condo in the neighborhood. They wanted to support their local club, his dad said, as if they were doing us all a big favor by gracing us with their presence.
    I won the toss and took the first serve. High on my toes, I smashed the ball over the net. Blew it right by him, I thought. But no, the ball came winging back, catching me off guard. I hit a defensive return. Rex charged the net and finessed a drop shot that pitter-patted into the forecourt. I dove to reach it but couldn’t get there in time. 0-15.
    That shook my concentration, and I hit my next serve into the net. Second serve, I took it easy. Hit a nice, safe, soft one that Rex sent zinging deep to my backhand. I got a racket on it but netted the ball. 0-30.
    How could it be love-30 when I was pouring my heart into every shot, and Rex was lounging there at the baseline, grinning as though he was humoring me by even picking up his racket? I gritted my teeth and blasted my hardest serve at him. It must have clocked in at 120 mph. Rex sent it back, deep. Fine. I could play the baseline. That was my kind of game. I whipped it back crosscourt. Rex went down the line. I tried for crosscourt, but the ball bounced midcourt instead. Easy hit for Rex. He sent me running to the opposite corner. I got there but didn’t have time to make a good shot. I hit it back to the midcourt. Too easy. Rex finished me off with a surgical strike to the far corner. 0-40. Triple break point.
    I forced myself to take a deep breath. Refocus. I wished I had some kind of trick serve up my sleeve. But all I knew how to do was hit with all my might. So that’s what I did. Rex returned with a block shot. I hit it deep. He sliced it back. The ball bounced low, with a ton of spin. I dug it out and sent it high. It was a perfect overhead setup for Rex. He smashed it into the far corner. Game.
    Rex had broken me on the very first game.
    Welcome to the next level of competition, Connor. Think you can take it?
    Second game, it was Rex’s turn to serve. The ball came at me fast, but not too fast. I decided to play it safe. I hit a good, hard return, nothing fancy.