Page 27 of Alice & Meg, Girls Trip

“Just keep texting me good night,” he said, his voice gruff but affectionate. “I like knowing you’re safe.”

“Always,” I promised.

Chapter Eight

We can’t be good at everything…

Meg

“Fore!” Alice yelled as she lined up her shot.

“Stop yelling fore, you’re scaring the children,” Paige called out from a few holes down, her voice carrying over the laughter and chatter of our group.

Alice smirked as she whacked her tiny lavender ball. We all watched as it soared into the air, ricocheted off a large boulder with a sharp *ping*, and landed gracefully on the green, just four feet from the hole. The woman was a mini-golf savant, even if she acted like she was just fooling around.

“How in the hell does she do that?” Lennox sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. “She hits the hell out of it, and almost gets it right into the hole.”

Alice grinned mischievously, blowing on the end of her putter like it was a smoking gun before pretending to sheath it in an imaginary belt. “It’s just talent, honey,” she said with a wink.

It was my turn. I stared down at the ball on the tee, trying to summon whatever magic Alice seemed to possess. Maybe if I channeled her energy, I’d actually manage to make it in the hole this time instead of sending the ball on a cross-country adventure.

Mini golf had never been my forte, but I’d never sucked as bad as I was today. We were on hole nine of the campground’s eighteen-hole mini golf course, and so far, I’d been consistent only in my ability to overshoot the mark by a mile.

I dropped my ball onto the tee and squared up with it, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. “Come on, Meg,” Cyn called from down by the hole, her voice encouraging. “You can do it!”

Taking a deep breath, I tried to visualize the ball rolling smoothly into the hole. I could see it in my mind’s eye: a perfect arc, the ball bouncing once, maybe twice, and then dropping right in, easy as pie. Feeling bolstered by the image, I took a rather strong swing.

Unfortunately, visualization was apparently not my thing.

The ball flew into the air, soaring over the green in what could only be described as a spectacular display of overcompensation. Instead of hitting the rock and rolling near the hole like Alice’s had, mine launched itself clear over the entire course and disappeared into the woods with a distant thud.

“Son of a bitch!” I cussed, throwing my hands up in the air in frustration.

Greta whistled low, clearly impressed by my ability to send a tiny ball into orbit. “Well, I can say with all confidence, you hit the hell out of that, Meg. Maybe we should find a par three course for you. I bet you could hit the ball at least two hundred feet.”

I shot Greta a half-hearted glare before raising my middle finger in her direction. “I think I need to start drinking,” I muttered, sliding my sunglasses over my eyes. “I think that would help.”

Alice stifled a laugh as she sauntered over, clapping me on the back. “You might be onto something there. A few drinks and you’ll be sinking holes-in-one like a pro.”

“Or at least I’ll stop caring where the ball lands,” I grumbled, still staring at the spot where my ball had vanished into the trees.

“That’s the spirit,” Alice teased, looping her arm through mine as we walked down to where her ball had landed. “But honestly, Meg, you’ve got power. You just need to harness it.”

“Yeah, like the Hulk,” Lennox joked. “All that rage and nowhere to put it but in the ball.”

“You’re all hilarious,” I deadpanned, though I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “But seriously, I think I might need to go on a ball retrieval mission.”

“Or we can just let nature keep it as a souvenir,” Alice suggested. “I think it’s earned it.”

Cyn patted me on the shoulder sympathetically. “You know, there’s no shame in admitting defeat. Mini golf isn’t for everyone.”

“No kidding,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s supposed to be fun, but right now, it feels like a personal attack.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” Paige chimed in, “I’m pretty sure you could take on a real golf course and crush it. Just imagine driving the ball that far.”

“Yeah, imagine the property damage,” I muttered, making everyone laugh.

“Come on, let’s finish up the course, and then we’ll hit the bar,” Alice said, still grinning. “Maybe they have one of those spiked lemonades golfers like to drink.”

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