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Authors: Matt Christopher, Paul Mantell
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up for a lot. With some lessons,
Malik thought, he really could be great.
Man, what he himself wouldn’t have given for half a dozen lessons from Thurman — or Al Sheinman at the driving range. Maybe
Al would let him help out around the range in exchange for some lessons.…
They were tied after the fifteenth hole, when the first clap of thunder sounded.
“Now what do we do?” Malik said. They were as far from the clubhouse as they could be. It would take them a good ten minutes
to walk back — maybe five if they ran full speed.
“We play faster,” Luis said. “The thunder’s still far away. Just hit.”
Malik had his doubts. He had seen a news story on TV once about a golfer hit by lightning. The guy was in a coma for a week
before he pulled through. The story said golfers were “at risk,” because of the metal in their clubs, and that they weren’t
supposed to hide under a tree, but stop immediately and head for the clubhouse.
“I think we’d better quit,” Malik said, hearing another distant rumble of thunder.
“You quit, I win,” Luis said.
Malik bit his lip. Luis would tell
everyone
that he’d beaten Malik his first time out on the course. He’d say Malik was a quitter and a chicken.
Malik stepped up to the tee and hit his drive. It duck-hooked off to the left and down a rocky slope. Luis tried to hide his
smile of satisfaction as he took the driver out of Malik’s hands.
Luis’s drive was right down the middle of the fairway. Malik swallowed hard. If Luis beat him on this hole, the sixteenth,
he’d have only two holes to make a comeback. And if the thunder got any closer, he might not even get the chance!
His only hope was to tie Luis on this hole. That way, if the storm came, it would be Luis who chickened out and said, “Let’s
quit now.” The match would end in a tie. That would be okay with Malik. He didn’t need to win — just to not get beaten.
He walked down the fairway, then cut to the left to find his ball. Luis could see Malik from the center of the fairway, but
he couldn’t see Malik’s ball, which was halfway down the slope, lodged behind a rock.
There was no way Malik could hit it. If he dropped the ball back onto the fairway, he’d have to take a penalty stroke, and
Luis would win the hole!
Thunder rumbled, closer now. It was do or die. Malik heard the little voice of temptation in his head.
Go ahead, drop another ball,
it said.
Drop it onto the grass where you have a clear shot to the green, but where Luis can’t see you do it.
Malik felt in his pocket for his spare ball. There it was. A sudden twinge of guilt hit him, and he almost stopped himself.
But when he heard Luis yell, “Come on!” he took out the ball and dropped it on an open patch of grass. Then he pulled out
his nine iron and hit a perfect shot!
The ball landed on the green, not far from thehole. “Hey!” Luis shouted in obvious dismay. “Good shot, yo!”
“Thanks,” Malik said, his voice humble. He sure hoped Luis wouldn’t notice the guilt that had to be written all over his face.
Luis’s second shot fell short of the green, and he whacked the ground with his club again. Malik didn’t stop him. Luis had
a right to be mad — if he knew what had
really
just happened, he’d be furious.
Malik dropped his second putt for a par — four. Luis got a five. The thunder drew closer and closer. “Come on, man, let’s
quit now!” Malik urged.
“You quit, I win,” Luis repeated, stalking off the green and over to the seventeenth tee.
Malik followed, watching the darkening sky and wondering if they were both going to get fried.
They hit their shots quickly. They were the only golfers in sight now. Glancing at his watch, Malik saw that it was nearly
eight o’clock. Maybe the darkness was from night falling, he thought hopefully. Maybe the storm would miss them.…
They could barely see their tee shots land, and they trotted toward their balls, in a hurry
Malik thought, he really could be great.
Man, what he himself wouldn’t have given for half a dozen lessons from Thurman — or Al Sheinman at the driving range. Maybe
Al would let him help out around the range in exchange for some lessons.…
They were tied after the fifteenth hole, when the first clap of thunder sounded.
“Now what do we do?” Malik said. They were as far from the clubhouse as they could be. It would take them a good ten minutes
to walk back — maybe five if they ran full speed.
“We play faster,” Luis said. “The thunder’s still far away. Just hit.”
Malik had his doubts. He had seen a news story on TV once about a golfer hit by lightning. The guy was in a coma for a week
before he pulled through. The story said golfers were “at risk,” because of the metal in their clubs, and that they weren’t
supposed to hide under a tree, but stop immediately and head for the clubhouse.
“I think we’d better quit,” Malik said, hearing another distant rumble of thunder.
“You quit, I win,” Luis said.
Malik bit his lip. Luis would tell
everyone
that he’d beaten Malik his first time out on the course. He’d say Malik was a quitter and a chicken.
Malik stepped up to the tee and hit his drive. It duck-hooked off to the left and down a rocky slope. Luis tried to hide his
smile of satisfaction as he took the driver out of Malik’s hands.
Luis’s drive was right down the middle of the fairway. Malik swallowed hard. If Luis beat him on this hole, the sixteenth,
he’d have only two holes to make a comeback. And if the thunder got any closer, he might not even get the chance!
His only hope was to tie Luis on this hole. That way, if the storm came, it would be Luis who chickened out and said, “Let’s
quit now.” The match would end in a tie. That would be okay with Malik. He didn’t need to win — just to not get beaten.
He walked down the fairway, then cut to the left to find his ball. Luis could see Malik from the center of the fairway, but
he couldn’t see Malik’s ball, which was halfway down the slope, lodged behind a rock.
There was no way Malik could hit it. If he dropped the ball back onto the fairway, he’d have to take a penalty stroke, and
Luis would win the hole!
Thunder rumbled, closer now. It was do or die. Malik heard the little voice of temptation in his head.
Go ahead, drop another ball,
it said.
Drop it onto the grass where you have a clear shot to the green, but where Luis can’t see you do it.
Malik felt in his pocket for his spare ball. There it was. A sudden twinge of guilt hit him, and he almost stopped himself.
But when he heard Luis yell, “Come on!” he took out the ball and dropped it on an open patch of grass. Then he pulled out
his nine iron and hit a perfect shot!
The ball landed on the green, not far from thehole. “Hey!” Luis shouted in obvious dismay. “Good shot, yo!”
“Thanks,” Malik said, his voice humble. He sure hoped Luis wouldn’t notice the guilt that had to be written all over his face.
Luis’s second shot fell short of the green, and he whacked the ground with his club again. Malik didn’t stop him. Luis had
a right to be mad — if he knew what had
really
just happened, he’d be furious.
Malik dropped his second putt for a par — four. Luis got a five. The thunder drew closer and closer. “Come on, man, let’s
quit now!” Malik urged.
“You quit, I win,” Luis repeated, stalking off the green and over to the seventeenth tee.
Malik followed, watching the darkening sky and wondering if they were both going to get fried.
They hit their shots quickly. They were the only golfers in sight now. Glancing at his watch, Malik saw that it was nearly
eight o’clock. Maybe the darkness was from night falling, he thought hopefully. Maybe the storm would miss them.…
They could barely see their tee shots land, and they trotted toward their balls, in a hurry
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