“Of course I’m overthinking it! But it doesn’t help knowing it and I can’t stop.” I pause in front of one of the windows. “I’m crawling out of the window.”
“What?” he yells. “Soph, just walk through the door. Any door.”
I’m shaking my head. “Nope. I can’t go back out there. I’ll call you back.” I end the call and shove Olivia’s phone into my bra, since this dress doesn’t have pockets and I’m going to need both hands. Pushing the drapes apart, I open the window and let out a breath of relief when I realize it faces the front porch. I run back to the door and unlock it but keep it closed. Then I’m back at the window and throw one leg out. God, if anyone saw me right now I don’t know how I would explain this.
Sophie Patrick, Tea Party Crasher and Escapee.
I try to pull the other leg through, but my wedge gets caught on the windowsill and I end up exiting headfirst. My hat rolls across the porch. I look up to see three girls standing in front of what is probably the main entrance.
“Are you okay?” one of the girls asks. I’m sure I exposed myself in some way when my dress flew up, but I can’t worry about that right now.
I don’t recognize any of them, which is good. “Yes, I’m so clumsy. Sorry. I got locked in that room, trying to find a bathroom.”
They think I’m losing it, but at least they don’t ask me any questions. The girl closest to the door reaches for the doorbell and I know I’ve got to get out of here before that door opens or I’m right back where I started.
I speed-walk past them, grabbing my hat as I go down the front steps and around the corner. I hear one of them say, “Who was that?” and another one answer, “I have no idea, butloveher shoes.”
I don’t relax until I’m back in my car. Olivia’s phone rings from inside my bra and I jump in my seat. It’s Wes.
“Are you okay?” he says as soon as the call connects.
“Yes, I’m out. And I’m never doing that again.”
He laughs for so long I almost hang up on him. Finally he says, “Come meet me for lunch. I want to hear all about it.”
“I can’t! I’m Olivia, remember? I have to sit here until the party’s over, or Aunt Lisa will know.”
“Okay, I’ll pick up some food and come to you. Picnic in your car?”
“Yes! Croissants if you can find them!”
Olivia
I’ve only been gone from Ellerbe Hills for about nine minutes, but it feels like hours. Or maybe I’ve lost all concept of time, since I feel like I live here now.
When I left, the players had teed off and were playing a round just like they will tomorrow when it counts. I’ve fetched for them, replenished snacks and water, found batteries for devices I don’t even recognize, so what could Coach possibly want from me now?
At least the guard at the entrance recognizes me and waves me through.
I park in the far corner in case Coach is close by, so he won’t see me getting out of my car. I have to hustle to cross the parking lot, but it only takes me a few minutes to get past the clubhouse and out onto the course. And sure enough, there is Coach Cantu, hand shading his eyes from the sun overhead, searching for me.
He looks frustrated when he finally spots me. “Olivia, I need you to take a cart and this box of flagging.” The box is full of small red flags on metal stakes. He points to the green that’s closest to us. “See how I put those flags in the ground on the edge of the cart path next to the green? You know what the green is, right? The section with the really short grass right around the hole?”
I nod, trying not to be embarrassed by how little he thinks I understand the game. I mean, I know what the green is, but other than that he’s not far off.
“I need you to set these flags beside the cart path at each green to keep the parents out of the action. They always try to get too close, but hopefully this will help.”
“Every couple of feet?”
“Yes, just next to the path when it gets close to the green.”
I thought golf was all about quiet and not disrupting anyone, but I’ll be flying from spot to spot if I’m supposed to do this throughout the entire course before midnight.
“Keep to the cart path. Stay still if you come up to someone teeing off,” Coach says as if he can read my mind, then hands me a walkie-talkie. “Keep this on the lowest volume setting. This way I can let you know if I need you.”
He won’t carry a phone, but he’ll carry a walkie-talkie. And now there’s never going to be a chance for me to leave the grounds if he can call me on this.
Coach Cantu puts an ice chest in the back of my cart along with a bag full of extra snacks, paper towels, and a stack of washcloths.
