Hotel Falsehood

7/"It's not my fault!"

It was a bright and warm Tuesday, and the sunlight was breaking through the windows.  

"But Grandma!" Corey was already whining like the annoying b*tch he is, "I want to go golfing before it gets crowded!" He was saying while stomping his foot. 

Ah, yes. Golfing.  That was my greatest underappreciated talent. I'd rather be golfing with Koufax, and his cool friends over the Lesteruni kids, but I soppose its better than nothing.

"That's a good idea." Dad suggests while he leans on the table in his purple polo shirt and counts his money.

"Oh, yes! I think so too." Mom says happily as she rolls out of bed, her curly hair a mess.

Tris jumps out of bed, and throws the blanket over me on purpose. "When can we go? Can we go now?" She pleaded.

"Yeah, we could, but remember, you and your sister gotta pay for your own golf balls." Dad tells Tris firmly.

Oh sh*t.

Tris suddenly gets really upset. "How much are they?" She asks.

I swear the second after these words flow from her mouth, the T.V turns on.

"Ah!" Dad quietly gasps as he drops his wallet.

On the screen, I see the Mickey Mouse mascot skipping down the golf course. "Do you like golfing? Ha ha!" 

"Oh good lord." I hear my Dad mutter.

"Wellll ohhhh boy! Golf balls here at Disney cost $50! You have that much?!"

"No!" Corey yells angrily at the screen.

"Wellll ohhhh boy! Ha ha! That's too bad for you, pal! But you could make that money in the basement!"

"What?!" I caught myself yelling at the screen.

"Don't you know?!" Mickey says to us, "If you could win the karaoke/trivia contest in the hurricane proof hotel basement, you could win money! Ha ha!"

Grandma laughs at this, "There you go!" She says.

"That's ridiculous!" I interrupted angrily, "You can't make me do something like tha-"

"You don't have to." Dad snapped, "But you're little sister sure would."

Tris looked at me, but sort of to my right side, so I looked down at Zoe. God, she was so lucky. She slept peacefully through this.

As the morning went on at the horrorfying breakfast table, Dad talked about golfing with a lot of cheerful energy. While eating his breakfast sandwich, he had the audacity to say, "Tanya. You're a good golfer." 

"Yeah. I know." I responded, not exactly paying attention at the moment since I have noticed Oswald the lucky rabbit at the other end of the breakfast table, interacting with some young kids.

"Tanya." Dad says slowly.

"What?" 

"You don't have a chance singing karaoke in the basement, but you have money anyway. You could just buy golf balls with your library money." He suggests.

The horror that I've been dreading, it happened. For some reason, I glance at Zoe as if she would help me. She didn't. She just smiled about it.

I look back to my Dad, who looked at me blankly, his wrinkles visible in the warn Sun. "No, I just wanted to go in the basement." I tell him.

"Why?"

"I just wanted to go in there."

To avoid him! I didn't say that part though. I went from decently rich, to extremely poor in a second, so I can't spend money of golf balls!