Part 2 (2/2)

Merri-Lee patted her perfect blowout, then turned to face her subject. ”Svetlana, do you think you are rehabilitated?”

”Yes. I have watched sun set on my anger.”

Merri-Lee knit her thin brows.

”It is truth.” She let Boris lick her wrist. ”We did several activities at the center I never had time for as child. Some-ores and campfires and hikes. I made girlfriends and had gentle pillow fights.” Svetlana's lids fluttered with emotion. ”I tapped into part of Svetlana I never got to explore. Of course, if I could take back what I did, I would. But in a way, I am glad it happened. I lost my temper but found real me.”

Dylan felt her throat tighten. No wonder Svetlana had snapped. Without the weekly overnights at Ma.s.sie's, where the Pretty Committee gossiped about their crushes, complained about teachers, and made fun of LBRs, Dylan would have become a raging tennis beast, too. Well, minus the tennis part.

”But it wasn't all fun. It was hard work, too-daily therapy sessions and hours of meditation. I've incorporated Zen into my everyday routine. It has been life changing.” Svetlana crossed her legs, demonstrating the ”om” position.

Trying to cross her legs Svetlana-Zen style, Dylan noticed a green splotch on her box-pleated skirt. How had that gotten there? Noting Svetlana's spotless LWTD (Little White Tennis Dress), Dylan wondered, How does she keep her whites so white? How does she keep her whites so white?

Merri-Lee took a deep breath. ”Well, Svetlana, I have to say it's been an absolute pleasure to speak with you. You are a remarkable young lady, and I think we can all learn something from you. I know at least this fan”-Merri-Lee pointed to herself-”will be cheering you on out there.”

”Thank you you and all people out there who have given me and Slootskyia family a second chance. Before, I just do it all for me. This time,” she sniffled, ”I just do it for you.” She smiled like a seasoned spokesmodel and looked directly into the camera. ”Nike: Just Do It.” and all people out there who have given me and Slootskyia family a second chance. Before, I just do it all for me. This time,” she sniffled, ”I just do it for you.” She smiled like a seasoned spokesmodel and looked directly into the camera. ”Nike: Just Do It.”

Dylan rolled her eyes. She felt like she was watching a sappy Lifetime Lifetime movie-ads and all. movie-ads and all.

Curling her collagen-enhanced lips into a dazzling smile, the host addressed her public. ”This is Merri-Lee Marvil for The Daily Grind, The Daily Grind, coming to you from the Aloha Open. And remember, if you're not watching, you're not living.” She held her smile for the requisite seven seconds, then whipped the mike off her white Ralph Lauren Polo dress. coming to you from the Aloha Open. And remember, if you're not watching, you're not living.” She held her smile for the requisite seven seconds, then whipped the mike off her white Ralph Lauren Polo dress.

”That's a wrap, guys.” She stood. ”That was Emmy-worthy, Svetlana. Nice job. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get this off to my editor aysap.”

”Of course. Thank you for your time.” Svetlana kissed Boris and waved goodbye. ”Enjoy the nosh.”

The rest of the crew members offered Svetlana sympathetic grins as they scurried about dismantling the set. Ignoring them, she began making her way across the gra.s.sy lawn toward the bungalows.

”What an interview!” Dylan yelled, grabbing her LG and chasing Svetlana across the gra.s.sy lawn.

”Thank you.” Svetlana stopped and dumped an entire box of chocolate mint Altoids in her mouth, then handed Dylan the empty metal tin.

She gripped it hard, hoping some of Svetlana's DNA would seep into her pores.

”Mmmmmm.” Svetlana chewed, then blew her chocolate mint breath straight up Boris's tiny black nostrils. ”Russia Boris loved this.”

American Boris sneezed.

”Question.” Dylan eagerly set her phone to record. ”How did you get your braid so tight? I always have little pieces that poke out, but yours is so smooth and even.” She reached out to pet it. ”Is it hair spray? Mousse? Extensions? Or a combo of all three?

Just as Dylan's hand was about to make contact, the tennis phenom grabbed her wrist and twisted it back down to her side. The pain was so severe Dylan dropped her phone and yelped.

”Ehmagawd-ouch!”

”Camera's off, interview's over!” Svetlana barked. Boris hissed.

”Woah-the devil wears Puma!” Dylan took a step back and rubbed her wrist. ”What about everything you said about Zen and meditation and being sorry?”

Svetlana stared at Dylan's mouth.

”What?” Dylan felt her cheeks burn.

”Are those teeth real?”

Dylan took a step back, her heels sinking in the spongy gra.s.s. ”Of course they are.”

Svetlana swung an imaginary racket toward Dylan's glossy mouth.

”What are you doing doing?” Dylan's ears buzzed with fear.

”Why do you think you are worthy to touch Svetlana?” The tennis star cracked her hair-snake like a whip. ”You are just loserfan, too sloppy to be an athlete and-”

”I am nawt nawt a fan!” Dylan shouted, her forehead starting to bead with sweat as the midmorning sun warmed the lush resort. a fan!” Dylan shouted, her forehead starting to bead with sweat as the midmorning sun warmed the lush resort.

”Correction.” Svetlana leaned forward until they were practically b.u.t.ton nose to b.u.t.ton nose. ”You are a loserfan stalker stalker!”

Then she head-b.u.t.ted Dylan.

”Ow! My skull!” Dylan grabbed her head, hearing a landline ringing inside her brain. ”I think you gave me a concussion!” She whipped the empty Altoids tin at Svetlana, but accidentally hit Boris in the back left paw.

Without looking back, she scooped up her LG, put one silver Nike in front of the other, and ran as if her teeth depended on it.

KAPALUA SPA AND TENNIS CLUB.

MEDITATION ROOM.

Tuesday, June 30 2 P.M.

”Ah-lo-ha!” Dylan burped that afternoon, the heavy bamboo door of the meditation room slamming shut behind her.

Reee-owwww! Boris meowed from somewhere inside in the dimly lit chamber. Svetlana's jaw clenched. Boris meowed from somewhere inside in the dimly lit chamber. Svetlana's jaw clenched.

She was sitting alone, legs crossed, in the center of a caramel sandcovered floor with her eyes closed. Rake marks and tiny paw prints swirled around her. The pink travertine walls oozed water, which trickled into a gardenia-filled pond that flowed along the edges of the room. Birds chirped, waves lapped, and a deep man's voice chanted, ”Ommmmm,” over and over again, thanks to the sound effects that were piped into the candlelit chamber.

”Can we talk?” Dylan stomped over to Svetlana, leaving a Nike footprint trail in the sand.

”Nyet.” Svetlana's eyelids fluttered. She looked almost angelic in a white satin robe with her blond hair-snake wrapped around her head like a halo. Svetlana's eyelids fluttered. She looked almost angelic in a white satin robe with her blond hair-snake wrapped around her head like a halo.

”Wrong answer.” Dylan stomped. A cloud of sand puffed around her yellow pom-pom tennis socks.

Svetlana's eyes snapped open. ”Back for seconds?” She reached out and pinched Dylan's calf.

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