Jet Set Read Online Free Page A

red hair and a freckled complexion. He eyed me with curiosity. I gulped when I realized that standing across the net, in an immaculate white tennis outfit with the word PRADA across it, was none other than Angelina de Brulen, who appeared even more gorgeous and intimidating in person. She gazed at me evenly. Way in the back were other girls retrieving balls, and more members of the boys’ team were on the adjacent court.
    â€œI can’t have lateness on my team,” said the coach. He had been much warmer when we’d met in Brussels at my tennis tournament. Now he seemed angry and frustrated by my tardiness. So much for Chival saying Sachs was eagerly awaiting my arrival.
    As I looked down, ashamed, I caught Victoria staring at me with a weirdly satisfied, bitchy grin on her face. What was her problem? Ugh. How could I have been late? I was so careful. I had pored over the schedule, which said that tennis starts at ten on Mondays…. Great. I’d already messed it all up, got everyone to hate me, and I had only been here two days.
    â€œI’m so sorry. I had no idea….”
    â€œDon’t let it happen again. I do not like it. Here to the left is Assistant Coach Albright and Sub-assistant Coach Clement. Liliana and Katrine are our ball girls. Suki and Heather are the trainers. Emme is the massage therapist.” I eyed the uniformedstaff clad in burgundy zip-up suits with the Van Pelt crest; they almost outnumbered the actual team. “All right, line up, then, we’re doing drills.”
    â€œTough luck, Lucy,” a snide teasing voice said. I turned to see Victoria jogging by to the other side of the court. Ah, torture the new gal. I got it.
    I sprinted over to the line and found I was next to Angelina.
    â€œHi,” I said softly. “I’m Lucy Peterson.”
    â€œAngelina,” she replied in a businesslike tone, turning back to the net to prepare for one of the coach’s lobs. I felt myself redden even more. I was so riled up by Victoria that I missed the first shot, and I could feel Victoria’s smirk burn in my side. Focus, Lucy. By my second time I was able to slice a shot across the net that grazed Victoria’s thigh and then went past her. Who’s smirking now?
    â€œWe’re not out to hurt our teammates, Peterson. Keep it civil.” shouted the coach.
    Again my face burned. Was everyone against me?
    â€œShe’s just got a wicked shot, coach,” said the redheaded boy. Thanks! Chivalry is not dead! “But she hits like a guy,” he added, deflating my opinion of him at once. In tennis strength is usually thought of as a good thing, but the way he said it let me know he was somehow dissing me.
    The coach had us line up and do speed shots, where we hit the ball then ran around to the other side. The drills lasted an hour, and I was wiped out. Angelina and Victoria were good, but it wasclear that I was better. I thought I’d have some serious competition, given the illustrious program Van Pelt offered, but it seemed all the private coaches and custom tennis outfits couldn’t beat natural talent. I really wanted to be top seed on the team. Sure, they had all the fancy rackets and outfits, but when it came to shots I was superior, even as a sophomore. At least that knowledge cheered me a little.
    â€œWater break,” announced Coach Sachs before he beelined into the clubhouse.
    Everyone else walked over to the water cooler on the side of the court, so I assumed that we were meant to bake in the still-boiling September sun while Coach got to relax in the shade. Nice. Clearly he took a page from the school’s unwritten diva book.
    I waited at the end of the line to get my chilled bottled spring water. As soon as Angelina took her two bottles, she walked off to the side of the court to stretch next to a guy who seemed very good-looking from afar. From the way she handed him a water, they appeared to be a couple. Victoria