Grabbing some extra socks from my drawer I notice the fifty dollar bills I hid there so my parents wouldn't find them. The money's from Albert. Every time I get a hole in one he gives me a fifty, and this past year, I've had a lot of them. I'm getting really good at golf—so good I was invited to an exclusive golf camp for teens who show potential for playing professionally. That's where I'm going now. I can't wait. It's a dream come true. Two whole weeks playing golf, learning from some of the best coaches, hanging around people who share my passion. And an added bonus? Getting away from my parents.
"Don't think you get to go back to regular shifts when you're home," my dad says.
"What do you mean?" I ask, shoving the money under the only pair of socks left in the drawer.
"What's that?" He rushes over to me just as I'm closing the drawer.
"What?"
"What's in there?" He points to the drawer.
"What were you saying about the double shifts?" I ask, trying to distract him. If he finds that money, he'll keep it. He'll take it and gamble it and lose it.
He can't do that. I'm saving that money for when I move out. That's still three years away but I did a budget and I know how much I need to get out on my own. As of now, I'm not even close to having enough.
"Dad," I say, noticing his eyes are still on the dresser. "I already told you I'd work extra to make up for being gone."
His attention returns to me. "That's not enough. You have to work until you make up for not being here to help out. Living here isn't free. You have to earn your keep. You think I'm gonna let you go off and play around for two weeks and not pay your mother and me for all that we do for you?"
I want to remind him that he and my mom do almost nothing for me but instead, I say, "How long before I make up the money?"
He cocks his head. "I haven't decided yet. I'll discuss it with your mother and let you know when you get back."
I go around him to my bed where my duffle bag is sitting. I stuff my socks in there and zip it up. "I need to go."
"What the hell?" I hear my dad say.
I turn around and see my sock drawer is open. My dad pulls out the money—a total of five hundred dollars. I panic, not just because he's going to take it all but because there's a good chance he'll forbid me from going to golf camp as punishment for hiding the money from him.
"Dad, I—"
"Where'd you get this?" he yells, holding up the money.
Should I lie? But what lie would I tell him? He knows how much I make at the shipyard. And if I lie I'll get punished even more.
"It's from golfing," I say.
He narrows his eyes at me as he squeezes the money in his fist. "You're supposed to give me what you make at that job. Are you saying you've been stealing from me?"
Did I mention I have two jobs? In addition to working at the shipyard I also work at the golf course. I clean the clubhouse and do lawn maintenance and just recently I've started caddying. That's where I make the most money but I haven't told my dad that. I just let him think I make minimum wage. The extra money I make caddying is hidden in another spot. For now it's in a shoebox in Albert's guest room closet. Nobody ever goes in that room so I figure it's safe there until I find a better hiding spot.
"It wasn't from my job," I say.
"You stole it?"
"I didn't steal it."
He shrugs. "You could, you know. Those rich bastards wouldn't even notice if you took a few bills from their wallet."
My dad assumes everyone who plays golf is rich, but I work at a public golf course, not a private country club, so most of the people who go there aren't rich. They just like to golf. I'm sure some of them have money but it's not like they're millionaires.
"I didn't steal it," I say. "It's from getting a hole in one."
"A what?" My dad knows nothing about golf. Either that or he pretends he doesn't because he knows I love the game and knows how much it hurts me when he shows absolutely no interest in it.
"A hole in one," I say. "It's when the ball lands in the hole on your first shot. Some guy said he'd give me money if I got a hole in one."
My dad looks at the money in his hand, then quickly counts it. "There's five hundred dollars here." He looks at me. "Some guy gave you five hundred dollars to get a ball in a hole?"
"Yeah," I say, not wanting to tell him the real amount and that the guy is Albert. I want my dad thinking this was a one-time thing so he isn't hustling me into getting even more money. "It's really rare to get a hole in one so this guy didn't think I'd actually do it. But then I did so he had to pay up."
My dad walks up to me until he's in my face. "And what is our arrangement?"
"That I give you ninety percent of what I make, but this wasn't a job. It was a bet. And I won."
He works his jaw back and forth, angry because he knows that technically I'm right. Our arrangement didn't specify money I won. Only money I earned.
"You're not as dumb as you look," he says, stepping back. He eyes me, holding the money up between us. "This will cover the amount you owe me for while you're gone."
"So no double shifts when I get back?" I ask, excited I'll be able to use that time for golfing instead of at the shipyard.
"You'll still work double shifts. You have to make up the hours you'll be missing. This money will cover the work you're not doing at home. The lawn work. The dishes. Laundry."
"But that's too much!" I protest. "That stuff isn't worth five hundred dollars."
"It's worth what I say it's worth." He points his finger at me. "And don't you ever talk back to me, boy. You hear me?"
I nod. "Yes, Sir."
"Now get outta here. If you miss that bus I'm not driving you."
Grabbing my duffle bag I race out of my room before I scream at him.
He took my money. The money I won from the game I love. Every time I got one of those fifty dollar bills I was so happy, and not because of the money but because of what it meant. It showed I was actually good at golf. Not just average but really good.
If I only had one fifty in that drawer I could chalk it up to being a fluke. A lucky shot. But the fact that I had ten fifty dollar bills proves it wasn't about luck. It was about skill. It proves I can really play golf and be good at it, maybe even good enough to play professionally one day. That'd be my dad's worst nightmare but I don't care. It's my dream. It's what I want to do.
I'll know if that's even a possibility after the golf camp. It's for the most talented teen golfers in the country, or at least that's what the brochure said. Part of me doesn't believe that because if it were true, why'd they invite me? I'm good, but not that good.
When the invite arrived in the mail I asked Albert if he got me the spot. He knows a few pro golfers from back when he managed a golf course. They could've got me the invite but Albert assured me that wasn't the case. He said my skills got me the invite. He sent in videos of my swing along with my scores the past year and said that's all it took to get me accepted.
As for who's paying for the camp I know it's Albert. I didn't ask because I knew he'd deny it but who else could it be? There's no way my parents would pay for it so Albert's the only option. I don't know where he got the money. He always says he has plenty of money but if that's true then why doesn't he move to a better house in a better neighborhood?
"I'm ready!" I call out as I go into Albert's house.
He greets me wearing a navy sports coat and beige dress pants, a big smile on his tan, wrinkled face. "You sound excited."
"Are you kidding? This is the best day of my life! I get to golf for two whole weeks!"
He chuckles. "I'm glad this makes you happy. You deserve it, Luke." He comes over and pats my shoulder. "You're going to be the best golfer there. Just wait and see."
I shake my head. "More like the worst."
His brows furrow. "Why would you say that?"
"From what it said online, the kids who go there have been playing golf their whole lives."
"An
d you've been playing since you were five."
That's when my parents rented the house next door. While we were moving in, Albert came over to introduce himself. My parents kept yelling at me for getting in their way so Albert offered to babysit. Happy to get rid of me, they took him up on his offer but told him they couldn't pay. He didn't care. He agreed to watch me for free. Most parents would be suspicious of that. A stranger offering to take their kid for the day? But my parents didn't think twice about it.
While hanging out at Albert's house I found a kids' plastic golf set in his garage and asked if I could play with it. He said I could but I didn't know anything about golf so Albert taught me the basics. That's when I first learned how to swing.
The next day I went back to his house and asked if I could play with the golf set again. I loved golf even back then, although I think part of that was because of Albert. He was the first adult I'd ever met that actually paid attention to me. He loved golf and loved teaching me about it, and I loved that he let me come over and gave me chocolate milk and cookies he kept in a jar that looked like a miniature golf bag. And most of all, I liked that he didn't yell at me like my parents did.
So yeah, I guess you could say my golf lessons started when I was five but it's not the same as the type of training other kids had.
"Don't sell yourself short," Albert says. "Those kids may have grown up with coaches and country club courses but that doesn't mean they're any better than you."
"Guess we'll find out." I motion to him. "Why are you all dressed up?"
He looks down at his clothes. "Oh. Yes. I do look rather dapper, today, don't I?" He laughs to himself. "After I drop you off I'm going to meet up with an old friend."
"A golfing friend?"
"A lady friend." He smiles. "We met years ago, back when I managed the course. She used to do catering at the clubhouse."
"Is she married?"
He shakes his head. "She's a widow. Her husband died years ago."
So did Albert's wife. She died when he was fifty, so twenty-five years ago. He rarely talks about her. The few times he's mentioned her he gets sad so I make sure not to ask about her. I don't ask about his kids either. He has a son and a daughter but they never come visit him and they hardly ever call. He says they're just busy but I can tell it hurts him to not see his kids. They live in LA, which isn't that far from San Diego. It's not like they have to take a plane here. They could drive down for the day and drive back. It would mean a lot to their dad if they did.
"So this is a date?" I ask.
"No," he says with a laugh. "We're just having lunch."
"But you got all dressed up."
He rests his hand on my shoulder. "Luke, when you take a lady to lunch you must look your best, even if it's not a date."
"Really?" I scrunch up my nose. "That seems like a lot of work. I don't think I'll be taking any girls to lunch."
He chuckles. "Maybe not now, but you will later. And if you like the girl you'll definitely wear the proper attire so you look your best for her."
He may be right but as of yet, I haven't met any girl I'd want to dress up for or take to lunch. I haven't paid much attention to girls. My focus is on golf, and when I'm not golfing I'm working. I don't have time for girls.
There's only one girl who's ever caught my attention and I never even met her. I only saw her on TV. The girl with the long blond hair and beautiful smile. Her name was Taylor and I never forgot her. To this day, I still think about her and wonder what she looks like. What she's up to. If she has a boyfriend. She's kind of young to have a boyfriend, or maybe she's not. I don't know her age. I just assumed she's younger than me.
"We should get going." Albert takes his keys from the hook on the wall. "Got everything?"
"Yep." I pick up my duffle bag.
"Oh." He pulls something from his pocket. "This is for you." He hands me a keychain. "To remind you of your dream."
The keychain is a metal circle that has the logo for the pro golf association.
"Thanks!" I smile. "I love it!" I grab my keys from my pocket so I can put them on the keychain.
Albert stops me. "Maybe you should keep it hidden. If your father finds it, he'll take it and throw it away."
I nod. "You're right." I look at the keychain and smile. "Thank you, Albert. For everything."
Albert is the only person who believes in me. Who believes in my dream. I love him like a father. He's the only father I know. My real father is nothing more than a man I'm forced to live with. A bully. A thief. The only good thing he's ever done for me is move in next to Albert, and that wasn't intentional. But it changed my life. If I hadn't met Albert, I don't know what my life would've been like all these years.
I drop my duffle bag and give Albert a hug. "Thank you."
He hugs me back, knowing I'm not talking about the keychain. "You're welcome. I love you, kid."
Tears sting my eyes but I blink them away. No one's ever told me they love me. Not my dad. Not my mom. No one.
I'm unable to say it back. It's too hard. Too weird, given the fact I've never said those words before. But I don't need to. Albert knows I love him. He knows how important he is to me.
He saved me. Gave me hope. Direction. A future. And for that, I love him...more than I'll ever love my parents.
Chapter Three
Taylor
"Birdie, wait up!" I run past a pile of golf bags and catch up to her as she stops several feet from the table where campers are checking in.
"Look!" She nods toward the check-in table.
"What am I looking at?"
"That guy!" she whisper screams.
My eyes scan over the guys in line. They all look like my brother. Average height, skinny, wearing polo shirts and khaki shorts. Some have braces and others have acne. None of them are what I'd considered cute.
"What guy?"
"The one at the table. The one checking people in."
My eyes go to the check-in guy. He's older, probably in college. Muscles line his arms and he has stubble on his face. He's definitely hot, but out of our age range.
"He's like twenty years old," I say.
"Yeah? So?" She smiles while twirling her hair around her finger, a sure sign she's into this guy.
"He's too old for you."
"Six years. Big deal. That's nothing. My dad is six years older than my mom."
"They met in their twenties. That's different."
"It shouldn't be. Eventually I'll be in my twenties the same time he is. It's no different than my parents."
"It's totally different, because right now you're only fourteen and he's at least twenty, maybe older. He doesn't want to date a fourteen-year-old."
"You don't know that. I'm very mature for my age. I'm gonna go over there and say hi."
"You can't. He's checking people in."
"Maybe he'd like a break." She turns to me. "Go back and get a soda from the car."
"I'm not thirsty."
"It's not for you! It's for him. I'll go over and offer him a soda." She looks back at him. "He looks thirsty. I bet he'd like a soda."
"Then his girlfriend can get him one, which I'm sure he has."
"You don't know that."
"He's super hot. A guy like that definitely has a girlfriend."
She grabs my arm. "Did you see that?"
"See what?"
"He just looked over here!"
"Because he could feel us staring at him. He probably thinks we're stalking him, which we kind of are. Let's go check out the course. My dad said it's amazing."
"I don't care about the golf course! I'm here to meet boys!"
I am too, but it's not my only reason for tagging along today. I do want to see the course, but I also want to check out the guys. This is a guys-only golf camp and I was hoping there'd be at least a few hot guys here. So far I haven't seen any. All the guys checking in are slightly less dorky versions of my brother. Some might even be dorkier, like the guy at the back of the lin
e wearing pink-and-green plaid pants with a white golfer's cap. It looks like something my dad would wear.
Speaking of my dad, I hear him yelling from the car. "Taylor, get over here!"
I sigh. "We have to go back. I have to get my clubs."
"You guys are really golfing? I thought your dad was kidding."
"If he was kidding we wouldn't have brought the clubs. And we're not golfing. We're just hitting balls at the driving range. He wants me to work on my long game."
"Why here? Can't you do that when you get home?"
"He said it's good to try out new places. Gets me prepared for playing on different courses for when I'm in tournaments."
"Taylor!" he yells.
"We have to go. C'mon."
"I'll be there in a minute. I have to go talk to Mr. Hottie Check-in Guy." She smiles at him but he doesn't notice. He's too busy checking names off his sheet.
I roll my eyes. "You're crazy. But good luck!"
Walking back to the car I laugh as I think about Birdie and her relentless pursuit of guys. I have to give her credit. She's bold. She doesn't let the fear of rejection stop her like it would me. I'd never go up to a guy the way she does. I'm too embarrassed and too afraid the guy will tell me to get lost.
Birdie's confidence is what made me like her when I first met her back in third grade. At the time I was really shy. I didn't have a lot of friends. I was too afraid to go up and talk to people. But then Birdie showed up. Her family had just moved to town and she started at my school in the middle of the year. I'll never forget her first day. She sauntered into class like she owned the place and asked the girl sitting at the desk next to mine to move so she could have her seat. The girl was Katie Crimshaw, one of the most popular girls in school. I assumed she'd tell Birdie to get lost but instead she got up and moved. She almost seemed scared of Birdie, maybe because back then Birdie wore black all the time and drew fake tattoos on her arms with a black marker.
Anyone But Her Page 2