“Mom, they’ll think I’m weird!” I protested as my mother shoved me into a pair of bermuda shorts, a long-sleeved shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat.  “Honey, you’re weird regardless, but at least now you’re protected from the sun!” she joked. It was my first day on Misty Creek’s private golf team. As I ventured onto the course, a sea of neon polos gravitated towards me—my new teammates’. It took just seconds before their cruel whispers reached my ears.  “