TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Chapter 1: FORE!

  Chapter 2: OFF COURSE

  Chapter 3: PUTT-PUTT

  Chapter 4: THE FINE PRINT

  Chapter 5: A WET ROUND

  Chapter 6: SCRATCH GAME

  Chapter 7: LESSONS FROM A PRO

  Chapter 8: A SWING AND A WHIFF

  Chapter 9: ROUND OF A LIFETIME

  Chapter 10: PUTT AWAY

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  Glossary

  Discussion Questions

  Writing Prompts

  More About Slices

  Explore More

  Copyright

  Back Cover

  CHAPTER 1

  FORE!

  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.

  Ben’s eyes were gritty with sleep. He looked out the bedroom window. “It’s 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. Let’s 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 couldn’t afford a discount membership. So Ben golfed at Valley View, a nine-hole public course.

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

  Ben’s 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 bunker.

  When they were done, the sun was up. The morning chill had burned away. Returning to the pick-up, Ben’s 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 Ben’s dad. “Technically they’re 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 didn’t think his crummy set of clubs would be up to the task of playing at Strongwood. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on.” His dad took out a second set of clubs. “There’s a cart waiting for us.”

  “A cart?” Ben wasn’t sure about that.He’d usually just carried his battered bag around the course. Riding in a cart seemed wrong somehow.

  Ben’s worries washed away the moment he stepped on the first tee box. It was a par 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 sliced to the right side of the fairway. It landed in the rough.

  “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 birdie.

  Ben’s 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, Ben’s 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.

  Ben’s 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.

  CHAPTER 2

  OFF COURSE

  Ben’s 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.

  Ben’s dad climbed into the cart. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s see how tricky your second shot will be.”

  Ben shook his head. “Let’s just wait until they’re gone,” he said.

  “Nonsense.” His dad patted the seat beside him. “That’ll 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 Ben’s dad. “The course looks lovely today.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Lonigren,” said Ben’s dad. He turned to Ben. “Mr. Lonigren is the country club’s golf pro. He teaches lessons.”

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

  Ben nodded. “I’m Ben. Nice to meet you.”

  “Nothing better than hitting the links with your old man,” Mr. Lonigren said. “Isn’t 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, Ben’s own grass-stained sneakers and ripped hoodie felt uncomfortable.

  The boy wasn’t from Ben’s 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. Ben’s 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.

  CHAPTER 3

  PUTT-PUTT

  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 dragon’s nose, and bounced off.

  “Was your slice more embarrassing than that?” Hugo asked. He blew a raspberry.

  “This kid was acting all high and mighty,” Ben said. “Like… like…”

  “Like he was the golf pro’s kid or something?” Hugo said.

  “Exactly.” Ben lined up his putt. “Now watch and learn, dude,” he said.

  In one smooth action, like the pendulum of a clock, Ben struck the ball. It hit the ramp perfectly and was swallowed whole by the dragon’s mouth.

  A moment later, the ball rattled out of the end of the dragon’s tail and dropped into the hole.

  “That’s how it’s done!” Ben said. He held his putter by the head and swung it out in front of him.

  “Behold!” Hugo shouted. “Sir Benjamin the Dragonslayer!” He thrust his putter.

  The two boys clanged their fake swords together like knights in battle. From the corner of his eye, Ben saw two figures approaching. He assumed they were Adventure Zone employees coming to ask them to knock it off. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

  Ben stopped stabbing his putter around. They weren’t employees, though.

  “Well, if it isn’t the kid with the wicked slice,” Evan Lonigren said.

  He and his friend stood near the metal dragon. They drank large smoothies.

  “And who art thou, foul peasant?” Hugo asked, clearly still acting like a knight.

  “Peasant?” Evan said. He laughed. “Look who’s talking.”

  “Sorry again for the wild drive yesterday,” Ben said. He hoped an apology would make Evan and his friend leave them alone. “It was my first time playing Strongwood.”

  “We could tell,” said Evan. “Right, Reggie?”

  Evan’s friend laughed. “Totally.”

  “At least when you play baby golf you’re less likely to hit someone,” Evan said. “And your clubs are supposed to be secondhand.”

  Hugo frowned as the boys walked away.

  “So those were the dudes from this morning?” Hugo asked.

  Over his shoulder, Evan shouted, “Fore!”

  “Yep,” said Ben.

  “Charming fellows,” Hugo said. “Come now, Dragonslayer. Another round? Show me some more of that sweet putting action.”

  CHAPTER 4

  THE FINE PRINT

  The next day, Ben and Hugo biked to their favorite store. Replay Sports sold used sporting goods. It was part of a mini-mall. It included a barbershop and a frozen yogurt place that had just gone out of business.

  They rarely searched for particular items at Replay. Ben just liked to wander the store’s cluttered aisles. Hugo just liked to talk.

  They found the golf equipment. Ben plucked an oversized driver out of a rack. Even with a scuff on the club’s head, it still cost a pretty penny.

  “Okay, so do you remember that jerk from Adventure Zone?” Hugo asked.

  “I’ve been trying to forget him,” Ben said.

  “What if there was a way to teach him a lesson?” Hugo said.

  Ben scrunched up his face. “Like, how?”

  Hugo dug into his pocket. He brought out a folded piece of green paper. “I found this taped up by the door at Adventure Zone.”

  Hugo unfolded the paper. He set it on an empty shelf. “Strongwood Country Club Junior Golf Tournament,” Ben read. Right away, he knew where Hugo was going with this. Ben shook his head. “No way.”

  “Come on,” Hugo said. “You should enter. Show the high and mighty jerkazoid who’s better at golf.”

  “He is,” Ben said. “He is better at golf.”

  “Make him prove it,” Hugo said.

  Ben snatched the flyer off the shelf.

  “There’s a hundred-dollar entry fee,” he said, reading the fine print.

  “But a five-hundred-dollar grand prize!” Hugo said. “And a set of new golf clubs.”

  “I don’t have a hundred bucks,” said Ben.

  “Just think, though,” Hugo said. “You’d finally have a new set of clubs for yourself. You wouldn’t have to use your dad’s.”

  “Maybe I like using them,” Ben said.

  “Do you?” Hugo asked. “You seemed crazy embarrassed when Evan dissed them.”

  Ben looked sideways at his friend. He continued reading the flyer. “All Strongwood members ages ten to fourteen eligible. Apply online or at the clubhouse.” He shrugged. “There you have it. Me? Not a member.”

  Hugo said, “Read it again, dude.”

  At the bottom of the flyer, in tiny print, were more instructions and rules. When he read them, Ben’s stomach did a backflip.

  All family of Strongwood members and employees are eligible.

  “See?” Hugo placed his hands on his hips like he’d won the argument. “Members and employees. Your dad’s an employee.”

  Ben shook his head like a wet dog trying to shed water. “Not gonna happen. Sorry.”

  Hugo took a deep breath. “Okay, this isn’t how I pictured this talk going,” he said in a tiny voice. “Sooo… don’t be mad, but…”

  “Oh, no,” Ben muttered.

  Hugo flashed a nervous smile at Ben. “I kind of filled out the online application last night. And I also paid the fee already.”

  “You did what?!” said Ben.

  “I did it for you,” said Hugo. “I thought you’d love the idea.”

  “But you don’t have a hundred bucks,” Ben argued.

  “Sure I do,” said Hugo. “I cashed in my paper route money.”

  Ben groaned.

  Hugo chuckled. “You can pay me back after you win the five hundred. Deal?”

  Ben looked at his friend. Asking for permission instead of forgiveness was totally a Hugo thing to do.

  Ben sighed. “Fine. Deal.”

  “Yes!” Hugo slammed his fist on the nearest shelf. A puff of dust rose around them like a swarm of insects.

  CHAPTER 5

  A WET ROUND

  It was cold and drizzly outside, the kind of weather that kept most golfers off courses and inside warm clubhouses. That meant it was the perfect time for Ben to play a practice round at Strongwood. Ben accompanied his dad to work.

  Ben spent an hour at Strongwood walking alongside his dad, who drove a caged-in golf cart with a roller and brush attachment. The cart was used to collect balls from the driving range. It picked the balls off the grass and whisked them into a container like a street sweeper. Ben snagged any golf balls that the cart happened to miss.

  As he walked along, Ben pondered. He still couldn’t believe that Hugo had signed him up for the tournament, but he did understand his friend’s good intentions. And he realized that Hugo was right. Ben knew he had talent. He just needed a chance.

  At breakfast earlier that morning, Ben had told his parents about the tournament. He explained about Hugo covering the entry fee. His dad frowned and glanced over at his mom. Neither of them said anything.

  Ben knew that his parents worried about money. They worried about bills, groceries, and all that other stuff parents stress about. But Ben’s parents didn’t often mention it. They tried to stay positive.

  “All right, Ben,” his dad said, “we’re done here. You can go tee it up. But be sure to come in if the rain picks up.”

  “It’s just a few sprinkles,” Ben said. He sidestepped a puddle.

  “Be safe, buddy,” his dad said. “Watch for lightning.”

  “Okay,” said Ben. “Um, hey. Do you mind if I…?”

  His dad turned and grabbed a handful of range balls with red stripes on them. He handed them to his son.

  “Thanks,” Ben said.

  The light drizzle created a thin haze in the air. Ben could see only a few diehard golfers on the course as he stepped up to the first tee box.

  He placed a striped ball on a tee, lined up, and swung hard. The ball soared through the air. As usual, it curved right, veering off the fairway.

  Before it landed, the ball struck a tree and dropped straight down.

  “Shoot!” Ben yelled. He was getting really frustrated now.

  He slid his driver back into his golf bag. He shouldered the bag and began to trudge through the wet grass.

  Ben’s round did not improve. His drives often sliced right. His chips and pitches took large, wet divots out of the fairway. And he found himself hitting out of most of the soggy sand traps on the course.

  By the time he reached the eighteenth hole, his sneakers were soaked. Only five range balls remained.

  According to his dad, the 18th hole was nicknamed the Dogleg of Doom. It was the toughest hole on the course, a par five with water hazards on either side of the fairway.

  About 200 yards up, the fairway took a sharp turn — a dogleg — to the right. A large sand trap hugged the side of the green, as well. Not that he could see the green from the tee box.

  In order to play it safe, Ben’s drive would have to be straight up the fairway.

  On his second shot, he could make it around the dogleg and approach the green.

  True to form, Ben’s drive sliced.

  PLUNK!

  It was swallowed by the water hazard. He grabbed another ball and tried again. His second shot landed in the same spot.

 

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