thisolddeviantart

Cooper is twelve years old and a treasure in his tennis whites, and I am unremarkable, eleven, blurred at the edges like some uncertain shoreline.  He only speaks to me because he sees Coach Drown's hands linger too long on my hips when he's teaching me topspins.  We're pairing up, Cooper declares, claiming me from across the court with the wide end of his racquet.  He spends the rest of practice serving straight down the line, aiming to concuss.  Cooper Corentin plays tennis like we're in trenches.  Come on, kid, fight back, he says.  If I were a fucking truck, would you just stand