Chapter Thirty-Six
Schylar thought it would be fun, for the time he spent with me, to take me to the driving range. He didn't tell me where we were going and I didn't find out until he turned into the parking lot because there was a lot of other things out that way. I was hoping we'd do something fun, like see a movie or something random. I guess this could count as random...
"Schy..."
"Well, you haven't gotten to play in a while so I thought this would be cool."
I stared out the windshield and made a face. "You hate golf. In fact you told me it was the most boring sport on the planet and refused to watch it. You even said you'd never come to one of my tournaments because you didn't want to stand around all day just to..."
"Blah. Blah. Bladdy blah. Shut up. You know you want to hit a ball. You haven't done it in a while and I can already see you have an itch for it. So come on. You're hitting at least one ball."
So there I was, up in a station on the second deck and there was no Schylar to be seen. I was thinking a girl had caught his attention, which sort of made him a hound dog in my book. He had a girlfriend...at least that's what I thought Brittany was to him. But if he was flirting with someone else, maybe she was a different kind of friend.
A kind my mother told me never to be.
Ever.
Whack.
I watched the tiny yellow ball sail into the air, heading straight for the 200 marker.
"Damn."
I put another ball on the tee and spread my feet. The focus of where I wanted the ball to go was easy to picture. My goal was the 300 marker and I was going to hit it or I would never leave the range. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and...
Whack.
My eyes opened and I watched the ball go. It landed right where the last one did. The balls were deficient. That's what it was. Had to be. Last week I was hitting an average of 280. I gathered up my bag and the pail of balls, heading straight for the desk.
The attendant smiled at me. "Done already?"
"No. These are—well, I don't know. I want new ones."
I put the pail on the counter. The attendant frowned and looked them over. There was a really girly giggle from the entrance. I glanced over and spotted Schylar, chatting up a girl. Just like I thought he would be. I crossed my fingers that she would be a replacement for Brittany.
"I can assure you that these are our standard golf balls. They haven't been tampered with in any way."
I looked back at him, the irritation that was suppressed while I watched my best friend troll came roaring back. "Yes they have. I was hitting at least 280 just a few days ago. Now I'm only hitting 200 at best. Your balls are flawed. I want new ones."
"Nata—Ms. Abernathy, I swear..."
"I want to talk to your manager. Right now."
"That's not necessary..."
"Now."
He quickly got on the phone and dialed the man in charge. Their conversation was short and he hung up the phone, telling me the manager was on his way. I took a step away from the desk, not wanting to crowd him. By the way he was looking at me, he was scared. I'd scared him. Huh.
I caught sight of Kells in my peripheral vision. He was standing next to the entrance to the men's restroom and he was trying not to smile. I guess he was doing a distance observation because he didn't come over to talk to me. Well, at least he was there. That meant I hadn't made my choice yet...
Bruce White, the manager of the Atlantic Driving Range, came down the stairs and then headed in my direction. I'd known him since I was knee high, Bruce having been a close friend of my father's for years. Him and a couple of my father's other friends used to go golfing on Saturday mornings and on occasion my father would drag me along. I would bug them with golfing questions and they would oblige without a frown or a negative word against it.
"Natalie. How are you?"
He gave me a friendly hug.
"I'm fine. I was just..."
"Something about your golf balls. Shall we have a look?"
I nodded and we went back to the desk. The attendant handed him the pail as he went around. He took it to the counter in the back, taking out one of the yellow balls. He placed it on the scale and I watched a red two pop up on the display. I smiled to myself, knowing full well that a golf ball was only supposed to weigh 1.620 pounds. He measured it and that came out normal.
He dropped the ball back in the pail and brought them back over to me.
"They are perfectly fine, my dear."
"Wait, what? I saw...the balls are over the normal weight..."
He frowned. "Natalie..."
"Regulation balls weigh 1.620 pounds and are 1.680 inches in diameter. That..."
"Natalie," his chuckle was nervous, "Regulation Elite balls weigh two pounds. You know that."
"But I..."
My cheeks colored as I realized what had happened. The attendant gave me the Elite standard balls without telling me, assuming I would know.
Since I was Elite.
My eyes dropped, the color in my cheeks probably getting worse. Now I felt like an idiot.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Don't worry about it," Bruce said. "It was an honest mistake."
He handed me the pail back and I quickly exited back to my station. The fake grass crunching under foot. I carefully put a ball back on the tee but I couldn't bring myself to hit it. Instead I stared down at it.
My world was completely changed.
I needed new golf balls.
New clubs.
New...everything.
I ended up sitting on the bench behind my area, staring at the ball on the tee. Everything would be different. It made me wonder if I was even a good golfer anymore. What if I couldn't even do that the same? My future was rendered to a dark pit of nothingness.
"Nat?"
I looked up and blinked, a traitorous tear trailing down my face. Schylar stood there, hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts.
"You ok?"
"No." My voice was thick with unshed tears, cracking on the word like rice crispies. "No, I'm not."
He sat down next to me. "So staring at a ball is doing what, exactly? I brought you here so you could hit it. I don't see you hitting it."
"Schy. Right now is not the time to..."
"I'm being serious."
"I can't play now. I'd have to rebuild all my training, all my instincts. I'll have to change everything. I have to play with heavier clubs, longer tees...not to mention balls."
Schylar snorted. "Really? You're worried about how heavy your balls are going to be?"
I knew what he was hinting at but instead of smiling I just started crying. I was horrified, unable to believe I was having my break down at a public driving range. I'd been handling this all so well. Why was I now having a problem?
I guess it took finding out I would have to change everything about my game in order to continue playing golf...
And golf was everything to me.
And now it was completely shot.
And in turn that meant my life was completely shot.
"Don't...don't cry, Nat. I didn't mean...it was a joke. You weren't supposed to cry...you know I hate it when you cry."
"It's not just about the balls, Schylar. It's the whole game."
"You can still play..."
"No I can't."
"Why can't you?"
I pulled my hands down from my face and glared at him. Why was this so hard for him to understand? I mean, a toddler could grasp this subject.
"The rules are different. The equipment is different..."
"Only so the game is fair for everyone. So what you have to use heavier shit? You can still play."
"Schy! I'm only hitting a 200."
"So?"
"I was hitting 280 last week! It's not fair! It's my future going down the proverbial toilet! Golf was my future! Now I have nothing!"
I chucked my driver and it twirled, grip over clubhead over the edge and out of sight.
"Your dad's going to be mad at you. I'm pretty sure that driver cost him a good three figure sum."
"Schylar, the club doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters. Are you really going to let a little thing like becoming Elite change how you feel about your favorite game?"
"Yes! I have no edge now. I feel like a toddler with her first set of golf clubs..."
He stared at me like I was crazy. "You know what? Hold on. I'll be right back."
He disappeared around the corner and I went back to staring at the golf ball. The yellow was a very interesting shade of neon and it almost made my eyes hurt to just sit there and look at it.
About ten minutes later, Schylar came back with a pail and my discarded club, the look of determination at odds with his bouncing afro. He motioned for me to stand up but when I didn't do it, he hauled me up by the arm.
"Schy...
"Come on."
"But..."
"Hit the ball."
"I don't want to hit the ball."
"Just...humor me. Hit the ball."
I lobbed the ball like he asked, still only getting 200. He nodded like he expected it then placed one of the balls from his pail, which just happened to be neon pink, and placed it on the tee.
"Go ahead."
I spread my feet, squared my shoulders, and then smacked my club into the ball. An ear splitting crack resounded across the driving deck and the ball, like a missile, rocketed through the air until it slammed into a tree. There was a loud thunk and the whole tree shook. Leaves and tiny branches drifted down to the ground as my mouth gaped open. A dot of pink was clearly noticeable in the trunk of the tree.
"Wow."
"Yeah. So unless you want that to happen at one of your tournaments, you need to use these." He held up three yellow ones, each placed between his fingers. "You'll learn how to hit them and you'll be back up to par before winter at the most. So stop freaking out about it."
"But..."
"No more, Nat. Your dad will help you, one of the Elite golfers can even help you. You just have to be willing to accept that you're just a little bit more...powerful then you used to. There's no reason to get upset about it."
"Can't I be a little upset about it?"
"I guess. Since it's your birthday and all." I looked up at him and grinned. "Let me be the first official friend to wish you a HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
I hugged him, thankful that someone had thought to assign him to me after I lost Cecil. He was the best replacement a girl could have.
"Thank you, Schy."
"What are best friends for?" He mussed my hair and put another yellow ball on the tee. "Remember, practice makes perfect."
"Is that what you were doing with that girl?" Whack.
I grinned at him but he just rolled his eyes. "You're such a prude. Get laid already!"
I busted out laughing, realizing he was probably the only one who could do that. Not make me laugh but make me feel better only minutes after I felt like dying.
"Don't make me hit you with a golf ball. Or worse, a golf club."
"OoOo." He waved his hands. "I'm so scared."
I pointed the club at him in mock threat. "You should be. My hitting range maybe off by my aim isn't."
"That's the same, Nat. God. What elementary school did you go to? Seriously?"
He was being an idiot. But he backed off after that, letting the teasing go for a little so I could actually do what he brought me here to do. After a while, Kells sat down next to him, both of them watching as I placed one yellow ball after another on the golf tee, trying to get my range back to where it once was.
"You're putting too much effort into it."
I stopped swinging mid-swing and my head whirled to look. Allie stood next to the bench looking a little sheepish. She had a golf bag hanging on her shoulder joint and the look on her face turned apologetic.
"Allie."
"Well, well, well. Look who finally crawled out of her brooding hole," Schylar snarked.
She looked at him, making a face that clearly said 'Shut up or I'll shove one of these clubs up your ass'. At least that fire hadn't died down when it came to Schylar. It was a passion I clearly thought could shift from annoyance to love one day. They just needed to realize it.
Allie turned her attention back to me, giving me a weak smile before placing the bag down and approaching me.
"You're Elite now so..." She pulled a driver out of the bag and handed it to me. "You need the right equipment. You're still thinking like a normal person. So..." She stood in front of me and smoothed her hands over my shoulders. "Feel it out. You're stronger now, faster. But the speed isn't really going to help you. If you swing too fast, your ball is going to end up in left field. Take it easy, get used to the new weight of the driver. Ok?"
I stared at her with wide eyes, a little more than eager to patch things up between us. She'd literally just handed me an olive branch and I was more than happy to take it.
So I smiled and nodded.
"Ok. Take a deep breath and relax." She breathed out with me and waited for me to nod. "Remember what your dad said. Loose wrists are good but a firm grip is perfect. You don't want your club flying back and nailing Schylar in the fro."
"Hey!"
She ignored him and kept her focus on me. "Ready?"
"Sure. Why not?"
Allie nodded and backed up so I could take a swing at the neon ball.
Whack.
We all watched it sail through the air, making a perfect spread arch. And you know what? That damn ball landed at 250.
"Oh my god." I looked at Allie and her smile was about as big as mine. "Oh my god, oh my god!" I dropped the driver and bounced over to hug her. She eagerly hugged me back and for a solid couple of minutes we bounced in the spot.
"I did it!"
"You did."
"I can't believe it!"
"I can't either."
"Thank you, Allie!"
"You're welcome." Pause. "I'm sorry, Nat."
I pulled back a little and looked at her. "It's ok..."
"No it's not. I was a horrible friend and you have every right to hate me."
"I could never hate you, Allie."
"This is gag worthy." We both turned and shot Schylar glaring looks. "Sorry. Geeze. PMS much?"
We turned back to look at each other. "I'm sorry," she said again.
"I'm sorry too."
We hugged each other again and after a few seconds we started to giggle.
But that all stopped when she whispered, "So which one are you choosing? The hermai or the Assarions?"