Jake Maddox - Secondhand Slice

Thirteen-year old Ben Malone groaned. He emerged from his bed like a zombie pulling itself from the grave.

Rise and shine! his dad said.

Bens eyes were gritty with sleep. He looked out the bedroom window. Its still dark outside, he croaked.

Yep. His dad sipped coffee from his mug.

Ben sat up. He patted his shaggy brown hair back into place. What am I getting myself into? he asked.

His dad laughed. You were the one who asked to go to work with me this morning, pal. So get dressed. Lets go.

Gary Malone was a new employee of Strongwood Country Club, the nicest golf course in town. Ben had never played there.

Even though his dad was the head groundskeeper, his family couldnt afford a discount membership. So Ben golfed at Valley View, a nine-hole public course.

The sky brightened as Ben climbed into his dads rusty, dented pick-up and they drove. When they pulled up next to Strongwoods maintenance shed, Ben got out and zipped up his hoodie. The morning was chilly.

Bens dad drove a riding lawnmower out of the shed. Hop on, kiddo, he said. Time to maintain the fairways and greens.

Ben jumped on and sat on a small back seat. The mower rumbled, and dew glistened off the trimmed fairway. Wet grass stuck to the side of the mower as they cruised along.

Together, Ben and his dad patched large divots in the tee boxes. They artfully raked the sand in each .

When they were done, the sun was up. The morning chill had burned away. Returning to the pick-up, Bens dad said he had a surprise.

What is it? Ben asked.

His dad reached into the truck bed. He drew out a navy blue golf bag. The clubs inside rattled against each other as he held it up. Ta-da!

Uh, Dad, Ben said. I hate to ruin the surprise, but those are just my clubs.

I know, said Bens dad. Technically theyre my old clubs. But I brought them along, so we could play eighteen.

Here? Ben looked out across the hilly golf course.

Several older golfers had begun their morning round. One older guy wore a pair of colorful plaid pants.

Yes, his dad said. Here.

Ben hesitated. He didnt think his crummy set of clubs would be up to the task of playing at Strongwood. I dont know.

Come on. His dad took out a second set of clubs. Theres a cart waiting for us.

A cart? Ben wasnt sure about that.Hed usually just carried his battered bag around the course. Riding in a cart seemed wrong somehow.

Bens worries washed away the moment he stepped on the first tee box. It was a four, 350 yards in distance. The hole was straight ahead, with a pair of bunkers on either side of the putting green.

Ben gripped his driver and swung hard. His club head struck the ball with a loud TING! The ball carried a bit. Then it .

Not too shabby, his dad said.

Ben parred three of the first four holes. On the fourth, he sank a 20-foot putt. The putt broke perfectly into the cup for a .

Bens dad whooped. Two men on the fairway beside them turned their heads in alarm. One was the man in the plaid pants.

On the fifth tee box, Ben looked out at the fairway. It was a long, straight par five. Trees loomed on each side of the fairway.

Ben placed his ball on a tee and lined up the shot. He drew back and swung with all his might. The ball sailed low and straight.

For a moment, Bens drive looked like it was going to land in the fairway. Then it began to slice.

No, Ben whispered. Come back.

The ball continued slicing. It was headed toward the tee box of a nearby hole. At that tee box stood a foursome of golfers.

Ben gasped.

Fore! he yelled.

Bens voice echoed across the quiet golf course. He held his breath as the ball soared closer to the foursome. They turned and covered their heads.

Bens ball landed short of the group and skipped along over the grass. It bounced past the legs of the frightened foursome. Finally, it disappeared on the far side of the tee box. One golfer pointed at Ben.

Ben felt embarrassed. He felt more out of place than ever.

Bens dad climbed into the cart. Come on, he said. Lets see how tricky your second shot will be.

Ben shook his head. Lets just wait until theyre gone, he said.

Nonsense. His dad patted the seat beside him. Thatll just slow down play for the people behind us.

Reluctantly, Ben sat in the cart. They drove toward his ball. As they got closer, Ben saw that the foursome was made up of two men and two boys about his age.

One of the men smiled. He was tall with perfectly-combed gray hair and sharp clothes. Hello, Gary, the man said to Bens dad. The course looks lovely today.

Thank you, Mr. Lonigren, said Bens dad. He turned to Ben. Mr. Lonigren is the country clubs golf pro. He teaches lessons.

And this must be your son, Mr. Lonigren said.

Ben nodded. Im Ben. Nice to meet you.

Nothing better than hitting the links with your old man, Mr. Lonigren said. Isnt that right, Evan?

One boy perked up, saying, Yes, sir.

The boy was lean and lanky. He wore a crisp, white polo shirt. His shoes gleamed. Suddenly, Bens own grass-stained sneakers and ripped hoodie felt uncomfortable.

The boy wasnt from Bens school. Ben wondered if he went to the private academy. He dressed like he did.

Looks like you have a bit of a slice, Mr. Lonigren said. Evan, be a gentleman. Show Ben where his ball landed.

Of course, Dad, Evan said.

Ben followed Evan to a nearby patch of thick grass.

As they walked, Evan turned to Ben. Under his breath, Evan said, Fantastic clubs. Did you find them in the dumpster behind the clubhouse?

Ben was too stunned to speak.

There you are, Evan said loud enough for everyone to hear. A smile returned to his lips. That second shot is gonna be a doozy.

Ben gripped the club tight, trying to keep it from shaking. He tried not to think about everyone watching. He quickly chopped his 3-iron at the ball, hacking out a tuft of grass.

The ball dribbled through the rough about ten yards. Bens ears and cheeks burned with shame.

He trudged up and hacked at the ball again. This time it popped high into the air. It sliced sideways but still found the edge of the fairway, about 75 yards up.

Ben shoved the iron back into his beat-up bag. The weather and the course were beautiful. But Ben no longer felt like playing golf.

The day after the debacle at Strongwood, Ben and his best friend Hugo met up at Adventure Zone. The fun-filled park had an arcade, batting cages, and even a small Ferris wheel.

Twice a week in summer, kids could play the mini-golf course for half-price. Ben and Hugo often took advantage of that deal.

The course was full of obstacles like a windmill, a loop-de-loop, and a huge roaring dragon. That dragon stared down at the boys from its perch on the 18th hole.

Hugo smacked a green golf ball with his putter. It sailed off a wooden ramp, struck the metal dragons nose, and bounced off.