Olivia

For the next twenty minutes, I hacked away at golf balls with varying degrees of success. Most of my shots were terrible, but occasionally I'd connect cleanly, and the ball would actually fly in something resembling the right direction.

"There!" Alexander said when one of my shots sailed straight down the range. "That's what you're aiming for."

"Beginner's luck."

"Skill," he corrected. "You're getting the hang of it."

I lowered the club, ...