Dockside by Susan Wiggs

sport. Nina had none of the above—not the smarts, not the grades and certainly not the sport. Her only athletic activity was outrunning Sr. Immaculata when cutting class.
    Her date was Laurence Jeffries, and she’d walked into the country club on his arm, hiding her terror that any second someone would recognize her and rat her out. But there was almost no chance someone would recognize her at the country club tonight. Carmine didn’t work here anymore, and as far as she knew, no Romano had ever belonged to Avalon Meadows. Golf and tennis and martinis on the patio were for WASPy types who sent their one-point-seven kids to prep school and summer camp. This only made her deception all the more delicious.
    When the festivities first started, she thought she’d made a mistake coming here. There were boring tributes to the appointees—“Those who dare to serve our country, blah blah blah…”—and no alcoholic beverages, because the new recruits were all underage, in the seventeen-to nineteen-year-old range. Nina was contemplating finding Laurence Jeffries and slipping away immediately. But everything changed when the adults headed into the cocktail lounge, the lights dimmed and a hired DJ took over. That was when the sea of boys flooded the dance floor, surrounding Nina like a testosterone forest. A bottle of something sticky-sweet appeared, and they passed it around until it was gone. Nina was fairly new to drinking, but she gamely swigged down the strawberry-flavored Ripple. It made everything seem easier and funnier. It made her a better dancer, for sure.
    Nina knew some girls would be intimidated by being in the midst of so many guys, especially guys like this—football captains and wrestling champions, the elite from high schools across America. Not Nina, though. She knew the truth about boys. No matter how smart and athletic, they were all just a mass of hormone-driven urges.
    She felt like the belle of the ball, dancing with one guy after another. One of them told her that all fifty states were represented in the class.
    Laurence was the perfect date, and perfectly clueless about her true age. She’d first met him last fall, when his football team came to town and defeated the Avalon Knights. Most of the town hadn’t taken the loss well, but Nina couldn’t care less. Laurence was the quarterback, he was super-hot and he believed she was a senior, like him. In the spring, she’d been delighted to learn he was the pitcher for his school’s baseball team, and they took up their flirtation again. They’d made out under the bleachers before, so technically, this was their second date.
    He had wanted to pick her up at her house, but she’d made an elaborate excuse and convinced him to meet her at the club. Now he appeared before her like a pagan god, tall and broad-shouldered, his lean, ebony face beautifully chiseled. Even the reflected light from the revolving fixture on the ceiling seemed to highlight his importance, illuminating him from behind, like a rock star. He was by far the best-looking guy in the room, and the best dancer. Nina happily took him as her partner. Over the gut-deep thump of “Get It Started” by M.C. Hammer, they got to know each other better. He was just seventeen and was leaving home for the first time. She was lying about her age and had sneaked out for probably the hundredth time, but she didn’t tell him this.
    They danced closer and closer, until they were touching, and Nina was on fire, as if he was a match striking to life against her. Maybe this was it, she thought. Maybe tonight was the night. And why not? He was the perfect guy to be her first—kind, handsome and honorable. Nina had eavesdropped on her older sisters enough to know these were the sort of qualities you didn’t find every day in a guy. She’d be nuts to turn him down.
    After a while, he bent down and said, “Let’s go outside,” and led her by the hand to the terrace overlooking the golf course. She