hobbledehoy

Of Deals And Panic Attacks

"Hyrum, please pay attention!" Mr. Tanner, my Economics teacher yells at me.

I glance up from my paper that I've been drawing numbers on, "Sorry?"

Mr. Tanner sighed irritably, "Stop with the numbers, this Economics, not Math."

"But what would economics be without math?" I ask innocently.

"Even more boring than it already is?" A man behind me suggests, and scattered laughter follows afterwards.

"Just pay attention, Mr. Aniston." Mr. Tanner snaps.

Mr. Tanner went on to explain his opinion on our modern day society, and the lack of responsibility when it comes to money. I blame the government and the homeless are the haughty words of Mr. Tanner.

But I really couldn't pay attention, besides—I'm going to fail this class anyways...

My mind was elsewhere.

And no, I wasn't thinking of Merlynn. Well I was, but not in that way—and she's not what's distracting me.

Wes Hamilton is.

Who is this Wes Hamilton I speak of? Only the university's star pupil, and captain of the golf team.

My Dad has been pressuring me to tryout for the golf team ever since I arrived at Pine Parks, he had been the captain here 30 something years ago.

Tryouts are today.

Plus, if I can get on the team, I have a chance at enjoying this semester. Golf is popular, so I'll be popular.

I can make some friends... Maybe even a girlfriend, though me in a relationship can only end badly...

But back to golf. I haven't actually ever played, but how hard could hitting a little ball be? Get the small ball into the small hole—no biggie.

And that's what I kept telling myself throughout the day. Going from class to class, doing brilliantly in my stronger subjects; like English, Creative Writing and History. And struggling in other subjects, for example; Math, Sociology and Foreign Languages (Spanish and German.)

The only class I have with Merlynn are Computer Science and Psychology.

I didn't particularly enjoy Psychology, but I enjoy being with my friend, so I try to have a good attitude.

"So can you come with me?" I ask Merlynn for the fifth time, because she'd always stop paying attention to me when Mrs. Callson said something she felt she should write down.

"I don't know, Hyrum," She exhales sharply, and brushes a strand of her dark hair off her face, "Golf really isn't my thing."

"Please," I beg, "I really don't want to do this alone."

I bat my dark eyelashes and pucker my bottom lip, hoping that I was cute enough to win this.

"Alright, I'll make a deal with you," Merlynn turns her body to face me, and sticks her pencil behind her small right ear, "I go with you to this stupid tryout on one condition."

"And that is?"

"You come watch my audition tomorrow morning."

"But tomorrow is a Saturday." I whine softly.

"And what could you possibly be doing? All you do is clean, write and watch Game of Thrones." She points out, reminding me that she has really gotten to know me these past couple of weeks.