The Birthday Battle, part three

“You shouldn’t poke it out so much then,” Jenny replied. “My serve!”

I felt utterly defeated. She was right – nothing was ever going to hurt a girl in that way, just like no girl was ever going to be bothered in a PE lesson by what she had to carry around in her underwear. But I knew I couldn’t give up, so got ready for Jenny’s serve, feeling a pang of panic as I remembered she only needed one more volley to win. Doubtless Jenny saw the flicker of anxiety that crossed my face at this thought.

“Scared?” she sang, doing her little hopping dance again. “Sure you don’t need to unpick your panties before you serve?”

I flushed at her cheeky question, because the truth was I badly needed to. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not scared?” I shouted indignantly back.

She started to tease me. Holding the ball in one hand she smiled and pretended to study the clouds overhead, drawing out my wait. I felt a most unwelcome climbing sensation growing between my legs, and squirmed.

“Come on, Jenny, serve!” I called out, hoping I sounded impatient instead of frantic. “What’s the matter, afraid I’ll win this one?”

The attempted taunt sounded woefully thin and unimpressive, and didn’t make me feel any more confident. Actually I felt like I was going to cry if Jenny didn’t serve soon.

She gave a little sigh that was half a yawn, and began to pluck lazily at her underwear. I envied her, because my ride-up issues were now so bad I was itching down there like crazy, and that was nothing to what was going on round the other side. My voice sounded reedier than ever as I cried out again: “Jenny, please!”

“I think I need to change my knickers,” she called back, sounding not bothered about the game at all. “These have got a bit sweaty and smelly. Mind waiting for five minutes?”

I couldn’t take any more. She was only doing this to see just how much of a state she could twist me up into, and to be treated like this by any younger girl would have been more than I could stand. Stamping my foot, I burst out: “No, Jenny, you can’t change your knickers until we’re done! You’re the one who wanted to play this stupid tennis match, and you know I can’t win so why don’t you just get it over with?”

She’d got me to admit to it in the end. Smirking her victory, she said: “Want me to keep teasing you or serve, then?”

I hung my head. Some birthday! “Serve, please,” I mumbled in reply, cheeks burning.

And serve she did. Whack! It bounced from my side of the count so fast I didn’t even have time to move. The round was over almost before it could begin.

Suddenly I didn’t care that Jenny been trouncing me since we started to play. Now that she had won, all I knew was that I refused point blank to let her! So I stormed over to the net, and heard a voice I barely recognised as my own shouting: “It was out! You have to take it again!”

As there was no way anyone could have thought Jenny was out, it was fair enough that she piped: “What game were you watching? That was comfortably in!”

I blushed, because she was right, but still stuck frantically to my story. “It was definitely out!”

“If you say so,” declared Jenny, and we got ready to play the round again. But just before serving, she added: “Even though you’re a cheat!” which made me flush and cringe all over. It was awful to think Jenny knew I had to try something so underhanded just to stand a chance against her. It was all pointless anyway because she served with an actual ace – the sort of hit I could only dream of ever being able to do. I tried to make the return, but that only meant one last embarrassment and then it really was over.

The strength flooded out of me, and my shoulders went limp. I’d never felt so completely hopeless. I also still felt really silly in my shorts.

“What’s the matter, don’t you like being beaten by a girl?” Jenny asked, unsurprisingly. She asked that question so much you’d have thought she’d have known the answer by now!

“Let’s play one more time, OK?” I begged her.

“It’s time for tea,” Jenny replied primly, starting to walk off.

“Just one more!” I cried. “Play properly this time and I’ll do really well!”

“You mean like you were just doing?” Jenny inquired. “And what’s that supposed to mean anyway, play properly?”

“It means don’t be quite such a little show-off!” I flung pettishly at her, before I could stop myself.

Jenny’s blue eyes shot fire and ice at me. “Fine,” she snapped, sounding like she’d just run out of patience. “Let’s play again! I want to have my tea some time today, so if it’s the best way to stop your whining!”

We got ready to play once more. I was thrilled and scared all at once about this last chance which I had to, just had to make count. So I prepared myself to play better than I’d ever played in my life, nerves badly a-tingle as Jenny threw the ball into the air, drew back her racquet…

…and hit the ball as hard as she could, straight into the front of my shorts.

Pain like nothing I’d ever felt before flooded through me. Gasping I collapsed to the court, both hands holding myself between the legs as if the hurt would never go away. Tears squirted from my eyes and I started to cry as only a boy who’s been hurt there knows how. Jenny smirked down at me from her side of the court.

“Still want to play against me?” she asked sweetly, then trotted off to the kitchen for tea.

END OF PART THREE