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T hey really were rioting, or so it seemed to Endy when she finally got to the pickleball courts.

Kids ran around the close-clipped lawn, chasing, screaming, and throwing balls at each other.

Others crowded around a cell phone watching a TikTok dance video, with a couple of kids attempting to copy it but instead looking like they were being delivered electrical shocks.

Endy slid a look to Maria. “You couldn’t have gotten them started?”

“I’m just here covering for you, mi reina, my queen. I told you not to answer that call,” she replied, swatting at the air. “This completely nutty mess is yours, not mine.”

“You’re right, Maria.” Endy burst out laughing and twirled around with her arms in the air. “This big, beautiful, nutty mess is mine.”

When Endy had arrived in the Coachella Valley two years prior, pickleball was still fairly new. But the new sport had seduced plenty of players and fans, and it quickly exploded in popularity, especially among the Boomers and Gen Xers who lived in the desert area.

Sensing an opportunity that did not previously exist for younger generations, Endy put together a plan for a Palm Springs youth pickleball program for kids eighteen and under.

Maria told her aunt, a principal at one of the Palm Springs public schools, about Endy’s plan.

And it turned out that the school actually needed an extracurricular program for kids who didn’t have after-school opportunities, didn’t fit in with traditional sports clubs, or couldn’t afford private sports lessons.

Endy’s plan would take a couple of years to establish, while relying on Whisper Hills Country Club as a host and sponsor.

It would introduce pickleball to the kids and their parents and raise Whisper Hills’ profile in the local community.

And at the end of the two years, Endy would hand the school a fully formed after-school pickleball program.

She’d presented the idea to Joel, who then suggested it to Daniel York. Almost immediately, her introductory pickleball program was adopted. Whisper Hills had given her a two-year monetary fund for snacks and drinks, paddles and balls, and also donated their courts for the period.

She called it Picklers Youth Pickleball League. And it was a hit.

Everywhere she went, someone would inevitably stop her and tell her how much their child loved Picklers.

Mothers would get out of their cars during pickup, run over to Endy, and hug her hard, sometimes bringing her Tupperware containers filled with home-cooked meals.

Even most of the staff around Whisper Hills knew that Endy ran the program and would call out to her and wave when they’d roll past the courts full of kids in the afternoons.

Endy made sure the program was free to all kids, and in the couple of years since she started Picklers, it had grown from six kids to sixty, a certifiable success.

Two years had gone by quickly, and Joel had approached Endy, wanting to discuss the Picklers’ initial term expiring. They’d sat in the shade on the pro shop’s patio, overlooking Stadium Court and the beautiful, deep-green grass croquet courts.

“Daniel wanted me to tell you congratulations on the success of Picklers,” said Joel, taking a sip of his mixed berry acai smoothie.

Endy smiled. “Thanks … I can’t wait to see what we do these next couple of years.”

Joel’s eyebrows drew together over his mirrored aviator sunglasses. “Next couple of years?” He frowned. “Endy, did you forget that the club only agreed for two years?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten, but—”

“The school is supposed to take it over in a couple of months,” Joel reminded her.

“I know, but Maria’s aunt was hoping Whisper Hills could keep it going. She said that with the cuts in the after-school programming budget, there is no way the school can pay for Picklers.”

“I was just at the club’s annual budget meetings, and well, neither can we,” replied Joel. “Picklers isn’t in the budget for the future.”

“Dammit!” grumbled Endy. “Joel, do you think I can change Daniel’s mind … have him go back over the budget and put Picklers back in?”

“I doubt it, Endy. Daniel had actually allocated Picklers around $25,000 for the past two years,” replied Joel. “That’s a lot of money. Especially for a program that you’re supposed to hand over to a public school.”

Endy frowned, crestfallen. “Well, the school can’t come up with that kind of money either.” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh nooo … Does that mean this will be the end of Picklers?”

“Unless you can come up with the money for the next couple of years.” Joel shrugged and then looked far over to the pickleball courts filled with players. “I don’t know, maybe …”

Endy peeked through her hands, her eyebrows raised.

“Like maybe if you wanted to do a fundraiser out of the racquet club before the end of the season, we could help you out with that at least.” He took a sip of his smoothie. “We could do a Saturday event or something.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s awesome. A Saturday fundraising event!” exclaimed Endy, bouncing in her seat. “Great idea. Thank you so much, Joel.”

“Don’t thank me yet … it’s all on your shoulders. It’ll be completely up to you to raise the $25,000,” replied Joel. “You think you’ll be able to do that?”

Endy nodded and smiled widely. “Anything can happen.”

Endy rounded up all the kids and separated them four to a court. With an even number of kids, all of them could play and no one would need to sit out. Endy went over the rules, reminding the kids to play fair.

“… and if a ball lands on the very outside of a line, is it considered in or out?” she asked the group.

“If I hit it, then it’s in,” came a reply. “If it’s anyone else’s, then it’s out.”

Endy rolled her eyes but smiled at the boy holding the paddle next to her.

Ten-year-old Paco Lopez had been one of the first to join up with Picklers.

His mother worked a midday shift, so he always found his own way to Whisper Hills on the bus after school.

His older brothers were athletic and participated in competitive organized sports throughout the year, but Paco was considered too impulsive, too volatile, and too much of a handful, so he never lasted long with any team or coach. Paco just wasn’t made for team sports.

Endy once had overheard Paco describe himself as “short, fat, and brown,” which, unfortunately, Endy could not disagree with.

Paco kept his jet-black hair cropped short, close to his large, round head, a little cowlick swirling at his crown.

His cheeks plumped his face, surrounding his dark eyes, hooded with heavy lids.

The wicked gleam in his eyes, along with his arrogance, set him apart from the rest of the kids in the program.

On and off the pickleball court, if he were ever provoked in the slightest, his response would often cause exasperation or even tears.

Yet, minutes or even seconds afterward, Paco would be apologetic, offering his hand to whomever he’d upset.

He’d give a full smile and would be attentive the rest of the practice time.

Was it bluster or was it charisma that made him so unpredictable? Endy thought that maybe with Paco, they were one and the same.

Paco’s mother, Valentina, picked him up after she got off work at seven o’clock, but she often ran late, giving Endy alone time with Paco. It didn’t take Endy long to see that there was something magical about Paco, and she wondered if anyone else would ever see that too.

The kids played hard over the course of the next hour as the afternoon began transitioning to early evening.

At the end of the last point, laughing and yelling and talking, they all drifted off the courts to the tables scattered with water and Gatorade bottles and backpacks.

When the sun started drifting lower, dropping below the tops of the palm trees, and the air grew chilly, some kids pulled hoodies over their heads.

They moved onto the lawn, waiting for the Toyotas, Hyundais, and Kias driven by a mother or older sibling to pull up to bring them home.

“Look!” a little girl said, her face tilted upward.

Above them, dozens of Canada geese soared over the courts, their wings beating along with their honking calls.

The kids, inexplicably and finally hushed, lifted their eyes.

The large birds in their V formation seemed like an arrow cutting across the entire periwinkle sky. They all watched mesmerized.

Pushing past the other kids close to Endy, Paco took a spot right next to her, then reached out and placed his small, sweaty hand in hers until the geese flapped away, their honks fading into the night.