Fairway Phenom Read Free Page B

in their classes, who their teachers would be, and whether they’d be nice.
    Kids who hadn’t seen each other all summer were sizing each other up.
Who got a hot new look over the summer? Who got braces? Who got zits?
The first day of school could be a really tough day in Sunset Park. If you’d gained a lot of weight, for instance, the kids
     could be pretty cruel with their comments.
    Malik didn’t do too badly, considering his voice had started changing. It squeaked once in social studies, and the whole class
     cracked up on him. But that was the only bad part of the day. His teachers were pretty cool, except for gym. He had friends
     inhis English and science classes. And Mr. Ridley — his teacher for math, which he had last period — was mad cool.
    Mr. Ridley had been a minor league baseball pitcher. This Malik already knew from Luis and others, who’d had older brothers
     or sisters in Ridley’s classes. Rumor had it that he threw chalk at kids when they weren’t paying attention, but always just
     missed them, on purpose.
    Malik didn’t really believe the rumor, but he could seriously picture it happening. Everything about Mr. Ridley was fun and
     surprising — even the way he taught math.
    “So if my dog has six puppies the first year, four the year after that, and seven the third year, should I have gotten her
     fixed in the first place?” That cracked the class up — they’d been thinking it was a real math problem, because Mr. Ridley
     seemed so serious when he was saying it. But he told lots of jokes.
    And another thing: Mr. Ridley wore a short-sleeved shirt that had a logo reading “Richmond Country Club.” Malik knew what
     that meant — it meant Mr. Ridley was not only a baseball player, he was also a golfer.
    The bell rang, and Luis motioned to Malik to come outside with him. Malik did want to hang with Luis, to tell him all about
     his classes and the kids and the teachers and stuff. But he had to talk to Mr. Ridley first — alone.
    “Go on, I’ll meet you downstairs in two minutes!” Malik called over the noise of students free for the day and gabbing up
     a storm.
    “By the handball courts,” Luis shouted back, then booked it out of there.
    Malik waited till the crowd of kids surrounding Mr. Ridley had thinned out before approaching him. “Um, Mr. Ridley, could
     I ask you a question?”
    “Sure,” he said. “What’s your name again?”
    “Malik.”
    “Malik! That means ‘king,’ doesn’t it?”
    “That’s right!” Malik said, grinning. “How’d you know that?”
    “Oh, I know a lot of stuff,” he said. “I’m a math teacher.”
    “You know about golf?” Malik asked.
    Now it was Mr. Ridley’s turn to be surprised. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I play just about every week. You?”
    Malik paused for a second before answering, “Uh-huh.”
    “Cool,” Mr. Ridley said, nodding. “Where at?”
    “Urn, I don’t really remember the name of the place, actually. It was a long
     time ago.”
    “Uh-huh.
How’d you do?”
    “Okay. Um, what do you usually score?”
    “Oh, mid-eighties, low nineties. How ‘bout you?”
    Malik didn’t know what to say. Having lied himself into a corner, he now had to pull a number out of thin air. He knew it
     had to be higher than Mr. Ridley’s average — after all, Mr. Ridley played regularly — but not
too
much higher. Malik didn’t want to sound like a dork who couldn’t swing a club. “Um, about ninety-five,” he said.
    “Ninety-five’s really good for a kid!” Mr. Ridley said, obviously impressed. “For real? Ninety-five?”
    Well, now that he was in it this far, Malik had no way to go but forward. “Yup,” he said. “Hey, where do you go to play golf
     around here? I mean, when I played, it was in Florida someplace.” He was lying out the wazoo now, but he didn’t care. He only
     wanted to impress Mr. Ridley — and find out where to play.
    “I belong to a private club on Staten Island,” Mr. Ridley