Free The Underdogs by Sara Hammel Page A

Evie’s face she got it, too. After all, Joe Marbury did a lot of business with another local rich guy: Herbert Harper, Annabel’s dad. Only Lisa didn’t seem to realize that among the suspects around us, Joe Marbury suddenly felt like an interesting possibility for someone who might’ve hurt Annabel.

 
    After
    About ten days after Annabel died, the tennis people got ahold of the new St. Claire Bee , and Lisa passed it along to Celia. Their reaction was about as extreme as my mom’s had been when she read this week’s shocking exclusive half an hour ago.
    â€œGood God,” Celia breathed, the broadsheet newspaper shaking in her hands. “Have you seen this?” she asked Patrick.
    A bunch of counselors were lounging at their table in the main lobby while Lucky led the regular camp in suicide sprints on the outdoor courts. The elites were about to head out for drills, but sensed something was afoot. Patrick grabbed the paper out of Celia’s hands and everyone went quiet. Goran hugged his tar-black Volcano Onyx racket to his chest, and Will looked at the floor.
    Celia, somber and pale, stepped forward. “Read it aloud, Patrick.”
    Evie and I, sitting quietly a few feet away on the sofa that faced the tennis courts, were in the dark as much as anyone. My mom had freaked out and run off to show Gene when she saw the story. Patrick took a deep breath and started reading. Serene was sitting next to him looking stricken as he began.
    â€œIn the midst of an historic heat wave, local teenager Annabel Harper was laid to rest Tuesday in a private funeral at St. Claire Cemetery. Her family was joined by a handful of mourners, all dressed in black, for the forty-five-minute ceremony.”
    Patrick paused to clear his throat. He was trying not to sound choked up, but failing.
    â€œThe popular teen, who was voted prom queen at St. Claire High School last year but famously turned down the crown because ‘it objectifies girls,’ would have been a junior this year. A source told the Bee of the secretive funeral, ‘The Harpers are in shock. They couldn’t bear the media circus a public memorial would bring. They want to be left alone to grieve.’”
    Patrick brought his fist to his mouth. “Ms. Harper’s cause of death is still unknown. Police tell the Bee they concluded the autopsy and are waiting for test results.”
    Patrick attempted to put on a casual expression, dropped the newspaper on the table, and shrugged. “That’s it.” Serene, who’d hung out at the pool with Annabel more than once, wiped away tears. Tuesday , the story had said. Yesterday.
    Evie hugged me, I think to comfort both of us. So many had loved Annabel. The whole town of St. Claire would be going nuts over this abrupt memorial. Why couldn’t we all have had a chance to say goodbye? I know a lot of Annabel’s club friends had been waiting for the closure of a funeral to make sense of our grief. Now that chance had been taken from us.
    â€œI can’t believe it,” Celia said, her voice sticking in her throat. “Why would her family do this? Why?” She shook her head and looked at Goran, but he was no help. His eyes were wide, like he’d just gotten the shock of his life, and he was clutching that racket like it was going to break his ribs.
    Will reached out and touched Goran’s arm. “Let’s play some tennis. We’ve got Yale coming up. You can do it, buddy. Win it for Annabel.”
    I realized then that Patrick had been seething quietly. He said to Goran through gritted teeth, “Well. It looks like you missed your little girlfriend’s funeral. Yet again, you weren’t there for her .” Patrick was shaking, in body and voice.
    Patrick and Goran’s off-court rivalry had been simmering over the summer, and now it exploded in a cloud of fear and grief and hate and love, all mixed together to make a dangerous