Pool Boys by Erin Haft Page A

Cantonese. “Huh?”
    “Valerie.”
    He whistled dismissively. “I wasn’t talking about her. I was talking about me. You know, my new handle. Rob. Instead of Robby? What do you think?” He gripped hisburger with one hand and flashed a peace sign with the other.
    Charlotte giggled again. The boy was truly a wonder. She’d always written him off, but what a mistake! How anyone could be so dense and self-involved, yet so honest and genuinely well-intentioned…? If anyone was worthy of the Stare, Robby Miller was. So she gave it to him. A girl giving a boy the Stare! It was empowering!
    He didn’t notice, though. Of course he didn’t. She almost felt like leaning over and kissing him.
    “How about Robe?” she suggested.
    He blinked at her. “Huh?”
    She patted his arm and lifted her fork. “Never mind.”

Chapter Fourteen
The Bet
    Golf was not a sport. Not a real one, anyway. It was a game. Which was probably why Valerie was so good at it.
    Not to disparage Tiger Woods, but Georgia now knew why every country club boasted a golf course as opposed to, say, a football field. Golf didn’t involve exercise (aside from lugging around bags of clubs). It wasn’t like tennis, either: A person didn’t socialize during tennis. A person faced off against an opponent. Golf was all about hanging out with your opponent. It was about laughing and gossiping about cute boys (Valerie’s specialty; she even thought Caleb was cute). It involved strategy, sure; Georgia could appreciate that. (Or she would have, if she could actually play.)
    “Oh, my God,” Valerie gasped, dumping her golf bag onto the pool patio. “I am so beat! Are you hungry?”
    “I don’t think I’ve ever been hungrier.” Georgia sighed.
    “What do you say we hose down and change, then grab some lunch? I’ll treat. I’ve been daydreaming about club sandwiches for the past hour.”
    Georgia nodded distractedly. “Uh…sure. You don’t have to treat, though.” Her eyes drifted over to the cabana,and then toward the pool, in a vague, fleeting hope of spotting Charlotte and Brooke. Maybe the four of them could all have lunch together. But instead, she saw only Caleb—strolling toward them in the most absurd pair of sunglasses she’d ever seen: huge, bug-eyed Jackie-O ones that were definitely not designed for guys. Somehow, though, with his mop of dark hair and baggy bathing suit…he pulled it off. He was cute, she had to admit, in a sort of emo-rock-star-like way, like Connor Oberst, the Bright Eyes guy. Not that she would ever tell him that, of course.
    “Hey, Caleb,” Valerie said, grinning at him slyly as he approached. “Cool shades. Where’d you score those?”
    He shifted nervously on his bare feet. “Um…Charlotte’s mom.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder.
    Georgia peered behind Caleb and caught a glimpse of Eliza von Klaus and Theresa Farnsworth lounging together by the diving board in their sarongs and sunhats. Both waved at the same time, looking uncannily like their daughters—which, for some reason, gave Georgia an uneasy feeling. Where were their daughters?
    “I don’t get it,” Georgia said.
    “Neither do I, really. Mrs. von Klaus offered to lend me these, and it wasn’t like I could say no, because it was a pretty nice thing to do, and I, uh—”
    “Caleb?” Georgia interrupted.
    “Yeah?”
    “You’re rambling.”
    Valerie laughed.
    Caleb grinned crookedly, blushing. He turned towardValerie, and then stared at the patio flagstones. “Sorry. Anyway, Georgia, do you have a second?”
    “Sure. What’s up?”
    Without another word, Caleb ducked behind the wall of shrubbery that marked the entrance to the path leading to the tennis courts and golf course. Clearly, he was making a feeble attempt to hide from the prying eyes and ears of everybody lounging around the pool. He waved her closer.
    Georgia exchanged a puzzled glance with Valerie.
    “Come here,” Caleb whispered.
    Valerie raised her eyebrows. She