From Chubby Target to Tennis Queen

The yellow-green tennis ball slammed into my stomach at full speed. The heavy impact sent my 210-pound body stumbling backward, instantly triggering a chorus of vicious laughter around me.

"Look at that! The human backstop works great. We don't even need a net!"

It was Blair's voice, dripping with entitled cruelty.

Standing beside her, covering his mouth as he snickered, was Liam, the boy I'd been secretly crushing on—the same boy I'd stayed up late helping with his physics paper just last night.

Sweat stung my eyes, and the cramps twisting through my stomach made me feel like I was going to throw up. But I didn't cry.

I stared at the tennis ball rolling to a stop beside my foot, and for the first time in my life, something destructive ignited in my blood.

They thought being fat meant I was born to be their punching bag.

What they didn't know was that beneath all that fat was a monster capable of tearing down everything they were so proud of.

I sucked in a ragged breath, my throat dry and raw, the metallic taste of blood spreading across my tongue.

"Pick up the ball, Talia! What, are your thighs so huge you can't even bend over?"

Across the net, Blair toyed with her custom racket.

With her blonde ponytail and perfectly tailored white tennis dress, she looked every inch the queen bee of St. Oak High.

Behind her, the elite members of the St. Oak tennis team sat on the bench, staring at me like I was some kind of freak-show attraction.

This was the third time I'd fallen for it that week.

Liam had texted me saying he needed help with "physics." Like an idiot, I'd hauled my ridiculously heavy backpack all the way here, only to become Blair's "live target" for serve practice.

I turned toward the person standing behind Blair.

"Liam…"

Liam avoided my eyes. He gave an awkward little laugh before slipping an arm around Blair's waist, eager to please her.

"Come on, babe. She's already struggling to breathe. If that two hundred pounds of flesh hits the court, Coach is going to make me lick the floor clean."

The bench erupted in laughter.

I clenched my fists.

Just last night on the phone, he'd whispered that I was "the smartest girl he'd ever met."

Today, I was nothing more than a cruel joke he could use to make the school's prettiest girl laugh.

"Ten more balls, Talia."

Blair didn't even pause. She pulled another ball from the basket, tossed it high, and smashed it down with all her strength.

Thwack!

The tennis ball slammed into my thigh. Pain exploded through me. Tomorrow, there'd definitely be a massive bruise.

I clenched my back teeth and refused to make a sound.

Slowly, I bent down, picked up the ball, and squeezed it tightly in my palm.

The rough felt dug into my skin. Every finger trembled with barely contained rage.

"What? Getting angry?"

Blair walked toward the net and looked down at me.

"A fat girl whose only job is picking up balls thinks she deserves dignity? You didn't seriously think Liam could stomach two hundred pounds of you, did you?"

"Shut up." My voice was so hoarse I barely recognized it myself.

"What did you say?" Blair sneered.

She reached her racket through the net and jabbed my shoulder with the hard frame. "Speak up, fatty."

I suddenly looked up and locked eyes with her.

The next second, I grabbed the racket where it pressed against my shoulder and yanked it backward with all my strength.

Blair wasn't prepared. She screamed as she lurched forward and crashed awkwardly into the net. "You psycho! Let go!"

I didn't bother answering. I ripped the racket straight out of her hands.

The expensive carbon-fiber racket was light as plastic, but my trembling arm was burning with enough fury to tear everything apart.

"Talia! What the hell is wrong with you? Give her the racket!" Liam charged toward me, pointing at my face.

I gave him a cold look and walked toward the baseline.

"What is she doing?"

"Has she even played before?"

"She must've finally snapped…"

The mocking voices behind me continued.

I raised the tennis ball I'd been gripping tightly in my palm.

I'd never played tennis before. I didn't know the proper grip or how to set up a swing. I only knew that I needed to let it out.

I tossed the ball high into the air.

My vision sharpened with adrenaline. The spinning ball seemed to slow as it climbed higher and higher.

The instant it reached its peak—

I swung my right arm.

All 210 pounds of me, all the humiliation, all the rage, went into that single shot.

"CRACK—BOOM!"

There was no clean pop of a tennis ball being struck.

Only a deafening explosion.

The ball tore through the air like a bullet, crossed the court, and slammed with terrifying precision into the steel post holding up the net.

With a stomach-churning shriek of twisting metal, the heavy steel post actually bent backward under the impact.

The taut net instantly collapsed. The rough cords snapped against the court like whips.

The entire indoor court fell silent.

Everyone stared at me as if they'd seen a ghost, then slowly turned toward the wrecked net post.

Blair sat frozen on the floor, her face drained of color. She'd forgotten how to scream.

"Your power and dynamic vision are elite. But your mechanics look like something a prehistoric ape would use."

A lazy voice broke the silence from the shadows of the bleachers.

A tall, lean boy with his hands in his pockets walked slowly down the steps.

Black hoodie. Baseball cap pulled low. Eyes cold enough to cut.

Julian. The former U.S. junior tennis champion who'd become infamous at St. Oak High for his vicious mouth after a car accident destroyed his knee.

"Julian? What are you doing here?" Blair demanded, using Liam's hand to pull herself up.

Treating her like she wasn't even there, Julian walked straight toward me.

He was a full head taller than me, and the way he studied me reminded me of someone examining a crude but extremely dangerous weapon.

"Were you trying to hit her in the face with that shot?" His voice was calm, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

I froze. My pulse started pounding.

"Julian! What the hell do you mean?!" Blair shrieked.

Julian ignored her. He stared directly into my eyes.

"Three months. Team tryouts. I'll coach you." He held out his hand.

"All you have to do is get rid of the weight that's slowing you down, then walk onto that court in front of the entire school and crush that blonde idiot—and whatever pathetic pride she has left."

I stared at his outstretched hand, then glanced back at Blair's furious face and Liam's stunned expression.

I dropped the custom racket at my feet and took Julian's hand without hesitation.

"Deal." My voice was cold. "I want her crying on that court."