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Five
straight
Saturday
mornings
,
Ginnie
Mannox
had
played
tennis
at
the
East
Side
Courts
with
Selena
Graff
,
a
classmate
at
Miss
Basehoar
’
s
.
Ginnie
openly
considered
Selena
the
biggest
drip
at
Miss
Basehoar
’
s
—
a
school
ostensibly
abounding
with
fair
-
sized
drips
—
but
at
the
same
time
she
had
never
known
anyone
like
Selena
for
bringing
fresh
cans
of
tennis
balls
.
Selena
’
s
father
made
them
or
something
.
(
At
dinner
one
night
,
for
the
edification
of
the
entire
Mannox
family
,
Ginnie
had
conjured
up
a
vision
of
dinner
over
at
the
Graffs
’
;
it
involved
a
perfect
servant
coming
around
to
everyone
’
s
left
with
,
instead
of
a
glass
of
tomato
juice
,
a
can
of
tennis
balls
.
)
But
this
business
of
dropping
Selena
off
at
her
house
after
tennis
and
then
getting
stuck
—
every
single
time
—
for
the
whole
cab
fare
was
getting
on
Ginnie
’
s
nerves
.
After
all
,
taking
the
taxi
home
from
the
courts
instead
of
the
bus
had
been
Selena
’
s
idea
.
On
the
fifth
Saturday
,
however
,
as
the
cab
started
north
in
York
Avenue
,
Ginnie
suddenly
spoke
up
.
"
Hey
,
Selena
.
.
.
"
"
What
?
"
asked
Selena
,
who
was
busy
feeling
the
floor
of
the
cab
with
her
hand
.
"
I
can
’
t
find
the
cover
to
my
racket
!
"
she
moaned
.
Despite
the
warm
May
weather
,
both
girls
were
wearing
topcoats
over
their
shorts
.
"
You
put
it
in
your
pocket
,
"
Ginnie
said
.
"
Hey
,
listen
—
"
"
Oh
,
God
!
You
’
ve
saved
my
life
!
"
"
Listen
,
"
said
Ginnie
,
who
wanted
no
part
of
Selena
’
s
gratitude
.
"
What
?
"
Ginnie
decided
to
come
right
out
with
it
.
The
cab
was
nearly
at
Selena
’
s
street
.
"
I
don
’
t
feel
like
getting
stuck
for
the
whole
cab
fare
again
today
,
"
she
said
.
"
I
’
m
no
millionaire
,
ya
know
.
"
