Do you think you can get another one by me?” Gregory and I were on the racquetball court, and the score was tied 14-14. One more point to either of us would determine the winner. My hair was already soaked at the back of my neck. It had been a fun battle so far. He was so tall and lanky, it had been a lot of work to run around him to get to the ball and make my shots. But I had made him run, too, with ceiling shots to the back corners, or low shots to the front wall, which he practically had to dive for to reach. I was standing in the service box, and I laughed at the question. I could only hope I would be able get another one by him. I bounced the ball twice, and set for my serve. I looked back at Gregory to double-check his position, and my eye was drawn to movement right outside the Plexiglas back wall. It was Carl, and he had just arrived. What a jerk. No one walks so close to the wall when a match is in play. I hesitated for a moment and then sent the ball low and hard down the left side of the court.
