The golf season had inevitably come to an end. The team and our parents gathered in the softly lit country club restaurant for the banquet. The room was filled with dresses of glitter and tuxes so freshly ironed you could just about see the steam sliding off of them. Waiters scurried around the room placing plates in front of person after person. A sharp clearing of a throat alerted the ears of everyone and we placed our attention on our coach as he began speaking, “I cannot thank the varsity girls enough for such an amazing season. Would Kaitlyn, Lauren, Audrey, Lia, and Alexa stand up?” But what about me, Julia? Had he forgotten about me?

He treated me with nothing but kindness the whole season while with others he was a firm slap on the back.

“You’re the best putter on the team!” He had chanted in front of all of us. My teammates' eyes swept down my body with jealousy. 

“Where did you come from?” He asked when I had beat every other player on the team at multiple meets. My first year on varsity and I was already topping the team. 

I thanked him when nobody else had the courage to after we had lost and our season was over. “You have no idea how much your words meant to me,” He wrapped me in an embrace with his frail arms. 

He called me a whip-it-and-rip-it girl. “Once she steps up to the ball, it’s gone and there’s no way to find it. She doesn’t mess around.” 

All the hardwork and dedication that consumed my summer, afterschool, and my whole life. The countless hours spent with a thick layer of sweat coating my entire body as I worked to perfect my swing. 

And yet, he forgot about me. He forgot my name. He forgot that I was one of the vital players of the team. I concealed my jealousy as his mouth ran on and on while he talked about the other girls on the team. But when it came to me, his speech did not even reach a minute. Who was I to him? Had my hard work meant anything to him?