the sunset and whispered to himself alone, “Girls.”
Molly was happy.
The pool was shaped in an L, with the smaller end very shallow for kids to wade in safely. Along one side were beds of flowers, mostly scarlet geraniums, with a very narrow strip of cement between them and the pool to prevent leaves and mulch from actually getting in the water.
It was hot outdoors, but nothing really had started indoors. Nobody felt like dancing, mostly because nobody else had started dancing, and nobody felt like eating, because they weren’t hungry yet, and half the girls were on diets anyway. They held their questionnaires and didn’t ask anybody anything, because it just seemed dumb, and faked. So they wandered out of doors and made a few remarks about how lovely Mount Snow was, and then they wandered down near the pool and gazed at the water and wished they were in bathing suits instead of dancing clothes, so they could go swimming and cool off.
Mr. Martin, who was an assistant manager of the resort, was a big bearded man with an enormous belly. He was wearing a very nice suit with a bright paisley vest and a solid color tie that picked up the gaudiest color in the paisley vest. Indoors, with the air-conditioning, he was very comfortable. Outdoors, in the heat, he began perspiring by the bucketful and became crabby.
“Lee!” he yelled at one of his waiters.
Lee was seventeen, and had graduated that very Saturday afternoon from Lynnwood High. All sensible Lynnwood High grads were off partying in Lynnwood this very minute, but Lee unfortunately had to work. Lee was not in a good mood, and all these happy Westerly kids made him very, very irritable. He didn’t think much of Westerly anyhow, especially since Westerly had beaten Lynnwood in every single sport Lee was in this year: wrestling, track, and tennis. It was Lee’s belief that Westerly boys paid off the referees. He had just learned, moreover, that his roommate for freshman year at Central State was going to be a Westerly person. He kept looking at this bunch, at their old “Last Dance” and wondering which of these dorks was going to live with him. He had read over their little quiz and seriously considered adding the question, “Which one of you will be Lee Hamilton’s roommate, and are you worthy of this honor?” but he knew Mr. Martin would kill him, which did not seem an auspicious way to begin his summer.
“Yes, Mr. Martin?” he said.
“Lee, go down to the swimming pool and tell those kids the pool is off limits for them tonight. They reserved the ballroom, the screened verandah, and the terrace and that’s that. The swimming pool is for overnight guests and anyway, we don’t have a lifeguard on tonight, so nobody can be down there. Keep those teenagers up here where they belong. That’s your job, Lee; don’t screw up.”
Lee rather liked the idea of yelling at Westerly kids. He stomped down the gravel path and immediately recognized Gary Anthony, who had trounced him in every wrestling match they had ever had. Great, Lee thought. “Okay, everybody,” he said loudly, trying to sound like Authority, “the pool is off limits, and I’ve got to ask you to stay up on the terrace if you want to be outdoors.”
The “everybody” he addressed did not even look his way.
Lee raised his voice and repeated the order.
The only thing that happened was that a girl in a very short purple dress asked him if he had been born on an ocean liner. Lee stared at her. She grinned right back, very flirty, and said, “Come on, now, cooperate, I want to win the VCR, don’t you? I don’t even recognize you! You must not be a junior, huh? Where’s your quiz? Have you gotten any answers yet?”
Lee said, “I’m a waiter.”
The girl laughed. “No, really, do you have any answers?”
Lee said, “Just that you’re not supposed to be down at the pool. You want to help me round up all your friends and herd them toward the terrace?”
The girl laughed again.
Molly was happy.
The pool was shaped in an L, with the smaller end very shallow for kids to wade in safely. Along one side were beds of flowers, mostly scarlet geraniums, with a very narrow strip of cement between them and the pool to prevent leaves and mulch from actually getting in the water.
It was hot outdoors, but nothing really had started indoors. Nobody felt like dancing, mostly because nobody else had started dancing, and nobody felt like eating, because they weren’t hungry yet, and half the girls were on diets anyway. They held their questionnaires and didn’t ask anybody anything, because it just seemed dumb, and faked. So they wandered out of doors and made a few remarks about how lovely Mount Snow was, and then they wandered down near the pool and gazed at the water and wished they were in bathing suits instead of dancing clothes, so they could go swimming and cool off.
Mr. Martin, who was an assistant manager of the resort, was a big bearded man with an enormous belly. He was wearing a very nice suit with a bright paisley vest and a solid color tie that picked up the gaudiest color in the paisley vest. Indoors, with the air-conditioning, he was very comfortable. Outdoors, in the heat, he began perspiring by the bucketful and became crabby.
“Lee!” he yelled at one of his waiters.
Lee was seventeen, and had graduated that very Saturday afternoon from Lynnwood High. All sensible Lynnwood High grads were off partying in Lynnwood this very minute, but Lee unfortunately had to work. Lee was not in a good mood, and all these happy Westerly kids made him very, very irritable. He didn’t think much of Westerly anyhow, especially since Westerly had beaten Lynnwood in every single sport Lee was in this year: wrestling, track, and tennis. It was Lee’s belief that Westerly boys paid off the referees. He had just learned, moreover, that his roommate for freshman year at Central State was going to be a Westerly person. He kept looking at this bunch, at their old “Last Dance” and wondering which of these dorks was going to live with him. He had read over their little quiz and seriously considered adding the question, “Which one of you will be Lee Hamilton’s roommate, and are you worthy of this honor?” but he knew Mr. Martin would kill him, which did not seem an auspicious way to begin his summer.
“Yes, Mr. Martin?” he said.
“Lee, go down to the swimming pool and tell those kids the pool is off limits for them tonight. They reserved the ballroom, the screened verandah, and the terrace and that’s that. The swimming pool is for overnight guests and anyway, we don’t have a lifeguard on tonight, so nobody can be down there. Keep those teenagers up here where they belong. That’s your job, Lee; don’t screw up.”
Lee rather liked the idea of yelling at Westerly kids. He stomped down the gravel path and immediately recognized Gary Anthony, who had trounced him in every wrestling match they had ever had. Great, Lee thought. “Okay, everybody,” he said loudly, trying to sound like Authority, “the pool is off limits, and I’ve got to ask you to stay up on the terrace if you want to be outdoors.”
The “everybody” he addressed did not even look his way.
Lee raised his voice and repeated the order.
The only thing that happened was that a girl in a very short purple dress asked him if he had been born on an ocean liner. Lee stared at her. She grinned right back, very flirty, and said, “Come on, now, cooperate, I want to win the VCR, don’t you? I don’t even recognize you! You must not be a junior, huh? Where’s your quiz? Have you gotten any answers yet?”
Lee said, “I’m a waiter.”
The girl laughed. “No, really, do you have any answers?”
Lee said, “Just that you’re not supposed to be down at the pool. You want to help me round up all your friends and herd them toward the terrace?”
The girl laughed again.
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