Fairway Phenom (9 page)

Malik wanted the set of clubs so badly he could taste it. If only he had fifty dollars! But where could he get his hands on
that kind of money?

Then it hit him. He knew exactly how to make some fast cash. “Hey mister — can you hold the clubs till five? I promise to
get you your fifty dollars.”

The man smiled. “I don’t know, son. If I wait till then and you don’t show up, I’m stuck with the clubs. And somebody might
offer me more than fifty. I’ll do my best, though.”

“Thanks — I’ll be back with the cash. You can count on it!”

Malik turned around and headed for the subway station. Between his allowance, which his mom had given him that morning, and
the money left over from last week, he had exactly thirty dollars. All he had to
do was make another twenty selling used balls, and he’d have a new set of golf clubs! Well, not exactly new, but compared
to his old set, this one might as well be.

Malik arrived at Dyker around eleven A.M. and started looking for balls right away. He carried with him a white plastic shopping
bag that he’d found blowing along the sidewalk on this sunny, windy day. The only thing was, there weren’t very many balls
in the woods, and a lot of those weren’t worth selling.

Maybe he and Luis had fished the waters dry in the past week, he thought. He’d never imagined the pickings would be so slim.
Well, he consoled himself, he had all day. He could stay here till four-thirty and still be back in time to get those clubs.
He only hoped the man would hold them for him, and that nobody would tempt him with a bigger offer.

Noon came. Then one o’clock. He still had only a few good balls to show for his efforts. At three he finally found out why.
There, on the fourth tee, stood none other than Luis! His one-time friend was standing above an empty shoebox, counting up
a wad of bills, wearing a big smile on his face. Seeing Malik, his smile faded, then returned, even wider
than before. “Yo, thanks a lot for the money-making tip, fool,” he said, then took off toward the clubhouse. “You can have
whatever balls are left.”

Malik stood there, steaming. He’d found a gold mine, then shared it with his so-called friend. And how had Luis repaid him?

Well, never again, thought Malik. It was better to have no friends at all than friends like him. He headed back into the woods,
blinking back bitter tears.

With Luis out of the picture, things started to go better. By four, Malik finally had a bagful of balls. But he still had
to sell his collection in a hurry.

“Yo, mister!” he called, as the first foursome appeared at the fifteenth tee. “I got nice golf balls, a dollar a piece — but
if you buy the whole mess of them, they’re only fifty cents each!”

“How many you got there?” asked one of the men.

Malik had already counted. “Forty.”

“Wow, forty.… I don’t know. I don’t need that many. How about you, Ned?”

“Nah, I’ve got enough.”

“Why don’t the four of you split ’em?” Malik suggested.

“Mmm…” The man named Ned looked around at his partners. “What say we get ten each?”

The men consulted, then agreed to go in on a purchase. Malik counted up his money — twenty dollars. Not a very good price
for the day’s work he’d put in, but he needed the money fast, so he could get back and buy the beautiful set of clubs.

He ran all the way to the subway, then waited on the platform for what seemed like hours.
Man, I could have walked home by now!
he thought, as the train finally rolled in.

He arrived at the garage sale at 5:05 P.M. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the man was still there. He was boxing
up what was left of his goods and throwing what he didn’t want out onto the trash heap at the curb. Malik looked around for
the clubs, but didn’t see them.

“Oh, hey there!” the man greeted him with a sad smile. “You brought the money, did you?”

“Yup!” Malik said excitedly. “Fifty bucks, just like I said.”

“Only thing is, you’re about an hour too late,” the man said with an apologetic shrug. “This other kid
came by and offered me sixty bucks. Just about your age, too, except a little shorter.”

“Did he say his name?” Malik asked, dreading the answer.

“Yeah… I forget it, though.”

“Was it Luis?”

“Yeah, that’s it! Luis. Cute little kid. You know him?”

“Yeah,” Malik said, feeling a hard knot forming in his stomach. “I know him, all right.”

T
hat night, Malik couldn’t sleep at all. His mom caught him raiding the fridge at two in the morning and asked him what was
the matter.

“Can’t sleep,” Malik muttered.

“That much, I can see for myself,” she said, sitting at the table in her nightgown and drumming her fingers. “So, what’s on
your mind?”

“Nuthin’,” Malik said, not wanting to talk about it.

“Trouble at school?”

“No, Mama. I just can’t sleep, that’s all. Probably ate something bad.”

“Like my cooking?”

“You know I like your cooking. Maybe something else.”

“I notice Luis hasn’t been by in a while. You two still tight?”

Malik hesitated. “Sure,” he lied. “Sure we are.”

“Uh-huh,” his mom said. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with golf, does it?”

Malik stiffened. “Golf?”

“I was cleaning your closet the other day, and I couldn’t help noticing…”

“Those clubs were Mr. Quigley’s,” he explained, in case she thought he’d stolen them or something.

“I see. I didn’t know you were into golf.”

“I’m not,” he said. “Not anymore.”

“No place to play around here anyway, is there?”

“There’s a course on Eighty-sixth Street, and a driving range on Sixty-ninth.”

“Really? I didn’t know that,” she said, smiling. “So you’ve been checking it out, huh?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Malik admitted. “Anyway, I’m feeling tired now. Think I’ll go to sleep.”

“That’s good,” his mother said. “And you keep playing golf, Malik. I’d like for you to play a sport where you can’t get hurt.”

Malik didn’t tell her about almost getting hit by golf balls, or about Luis’s punches, which still hurt after two days. Truth
was, it was his feelings that
hurt the most — especially since he couldn’t show them. Not even to his mom.

On Monday during lunch period, he cornered Luis. Malik put up his fists, ready for a showdown. “Yo, those clubs were mine,”
he told his ex-friend. “The guy was supposed to hold them for me.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t, right? Too bad for you. I paid him ten bucks more than you were gonna, anyway.”

“Cheating again, huh?” Malik said, knowing it would set Luis off.

Sure enough, Luis came at him, fists flying. Whistles blew, and the cafeteria erupted in cheers and yelling. Some kids rooted
for Malik, some for Luis, but all of them were rooting for the fight to continue. They were disappointed when the cafeteria
workers broke it up.

Luis’s nose was bleeding, and Malik’s ear was throbbing with pain. He knew he was going to have a bruise on his cheek, too.
Lucky thing Luis had missed his eye. As it was, this was going to be tough to explain to his mother.

The two boys were brought to the principal’s office at once. “I’m going to suspend you both if there’s any more fighting,”
she said. “I would have done it this time, but Mr. Ridley tells me I should go easy on you.”

Walking down the hall afterward, side by side, the boys were still steaming, not saying a word to each other. Then Malik broke
the silence. “Yo, man — I know you bought those clubs just to get me. So how about I buy them from you for sixty-five dollars?”

“No way,” Luis said, still holding a tissue to his nose. “Not now, not ever.”

“Okay, seventy. Man, you’re making money on the deal — and you know you’re not gonna use those clubs.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because you think it’s for rich dweebs, and besides, you’re not any good at it.”

“Oh, so I should let the golf pro have the clubs, huh?”

“I’m not saying —”

“You’re no better than I am. I beat you my first time out, remember?”

“Shut up, you did not!”

“Go ahead, hit me, fool,” Luis dared him, knowing Malik didn’t want to get suspended. Both boys knew that any suspensions
would look really bad on their records — and Malik had a better record to spoil. Besides, his mama would have his sorry hide
when she found out. “Go on. See what happens.”

Malik broke away, heading for math class. “Who needs Luis, anyway?” he told himself. “He’s a loser, and I’m better off without
him.” That’s what he kept telling himself, even though he felt like he’d lost a brother.

Mr. Ridley made Malik stay after the final bell rang. “Thanks for talking to the principal,” Malik said right off.

“You’re welcome,” Mr. Ridley replied. “Don’t embarrass me by making me wrong.”

“I won’t,” Malik promised. “But if Luis comes after me…”

“I’ll speak to him — again,” Mr. Ridley said. “Just don’t provoke him.”

“I won’t.

“And, um, listen, Malik — I’m going to be driving some balls at the Sixty-ninth Street Pier this coming
Saturday. Want to join me? I could give you a few tips.”

“You mean it?” Malik couldn’t help smiling. Getting a free lesson from Mr. Ridley was even better than his plan to work for
lessons from Al Sheinman! “What time?”

“How’s eleven A.M.?”

“Cool — I’ll be there!”

Whatever happened, Malik was going to get better at golf. If Luis was going to keep playing, one day there would be a challenge
between them. Malik wanted to beat him in the worst way, but he would do it on the golf course — not with his fists, but with
his game.

Malik showed up ten minutes early at the driving range that Saturday, but Mr. Ridley had beaten him there. “Glad to see you,
Malik,” he said, giving him a clap on the back. “Come on, get a club and let’s go. And today’s on me.”

“Thanks, Mr. Ridley!” Malik said, relieved that he wouldn’t have to spend any of this week’s allowance on practice. That meant
he could afford to play golf during the week without selling any used balls.

Mr. Ridley watched Malik hit a few shots, then started refining his grip. “You can interlock your fingers like this.” He showed
Malik. “That’ll give you extra control. And line it up more off your front foot when you’re driving, more off your back foot
for shorter shots. That’s it. Stand a little farther away, so you can extend your arms more.”

Malik went through half a bucket of balls, then let Mr. Ridley hit a few. He had a long, graceful swing, and hit the ball
a mile. Malik stood there, admiring the high arc of the shots.

Then, a movement to his left caught Malik’s eye. He turned, and there was Luis.

“Hey, Mr. Ridley, here I am, ready to —” Luis stopped short, seeing Malik. “What the —?” he gasped, his smile vanishing.

“Hey!” Malik said, turning angrily to his teacher. “What’s going on, Mr. Ridley?”

“Yeah,” Luis echoed. “What is this? A trap? ‘Cuz if it is, I’m outta here!”

“Me, too!” shouted Malik.

Just like that, a fun day had turned into Malik’s worst nightmare!

B
oys,” Mr. Ridley said, “don’t get upset now. I arranged things this way so we could get a few things straightened out, just
the three of us, away from school and the other kids.”

“I’m not talking to him,” Luis said.

“Me neither!” Malik said. “I mean, I’m not talking to him either!”

Mr. Ridley sighed patiently. “Look, you two. I know you both like golf, and I know you like each other. So what’s this really
all about?”

Malik started to tell him all about how Luis had cheated, then stolen the golf set out from under him. Luis kept interrupting,
calling Malik a liar, and saying
he
was the one who cheated.

“Hold on,” Mr. Ridley said, holding up a hand. “It
sounds to me like you’re more interested in competing with each other than getting better at golf
or
being friends. Is that true?”

“No,” said Malik, looking down at the ground.

“He’s
the one who doesn’t want to be friends,” Luis said.

“Now, quit accusing,” Mr. Ridley admonished him. “I’m sure Malik wants to be friends as much as you do. Don’t you, Malik?”

Malik hesitated, then said, “Uh-huh,” so softly he could barely be heard.

“There, you see?” Mr. Ridley said triumphantly. “And you both want to get better at golf, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then, that’s why I invited you both here today — separately. I knew neither of you would show up if he knew the other
was coming. Plus, I figured it would be easier to give you both pointers together rather than separately. Besides,” he added,
“I’ve got a secret plan that involves the both of you — if you’re willing to play along, that is.”

“What is it?” Luis asked.

“Well,” Mr. Ridley said, lowering his voice, “I’ve got this idea — Malik was the one who had it first, really — an idea to
form a middle school golf team.”

“Yes!” Malik said excitedly, practically jumping up and down.

“A golf team?” Luis asked, more cautious.

“Uh-huh. You’d both have to be on it, of course. I don’t know if there are any other kids at school who even play. As cocaptains,
you’d have to round up some more kids for the team.”

“Cocaptains?” Luis and Malik repeated at the same time, looking at each other doubtfully.

“It’s the only way,” Mr. Ridley responded. “If one of you is captain and not the other — well, you can see why that wouldn’t
work. But if you’re going to be cocaptains, you’ll have to agree to work together. Question is, will you do it?”

“Cocaptains, huh?” Luis said, mulling it over. “I will if he will.”

“Malik?”

Malik thought it over. “I don’t know. He hates my guts.”

“I don’t think so,” Mr. Ridley said softly. “Do you, Luis?”

“Not really,” Luis said, kicking a nonexistent pebble. “I was just… I don’t know… mad, I guess.”

“Me, too,” Malik said.

“Are you willing to shake hands and be cocaptains?” Mr. Ridley asked. “Because if you are, I’ll go straight to the principal
and ask her if we can go ahead with this.”