Playing for Keeps by Joan Lowery Nixon Read Free Book Online

sixteen and you’re giving up? Nonsense,” Glory said. “There are many nice guys in this world—guys like Neil. Tomorrow I’m going to see that the two of you take the first tender to Bonita Beach. With Eloise’s blessing, I’ve signed you and Neil up for a snorkeling excursion.”
    “I don’t know how to snorkel.”
    “Neither does Neil, according to Eloise. But I understand it’s easy to learn.”
    I sighed. I was beginning to realize how hard it was for Mom to resist Glory when she had a goal in mind. “Are you going too?”
    Glory stood and smoothed her cotton skirt. “Of course not,” she said. “I’m going to be doing my best to the win the bridge tournament. I drew Dora as my partner tomorrow, and we make a good team.” She winked. “So will you and Neil. He’s a much better person than that Cam Daly. Now, get in the pool and make Neil pay attention to you.”
    As she left, I sank back on the chaise and squeezed my eyes shut. I had no intention of competing with Julieta for a guy I wasn’t even interested in and who didn’t seem to be interested in me.
    And as for tomorrow . . . it wasn’t fair! A date that had been arranged by a pair of grandmothers? I was positive that Neil would hate it every bit as much as I would.
    The next morning at eight-thirty I left the bright elevator for the narrow, dull, beige corridors of deck one and waited to board the first tender to Bonita Beach with Neil, who reeked of suntan lotion.
    “Have fun!” Glory called to us from the sidelines.
    “Neil, turn up your collar. Be careful not to get too much sun!” Mrs. Fleming shouted. “You know how easily you burn.”
    I pretended I didn’t hear and saw that Neil was doing the same. Why didn’t our grandmothers leave us alone?
    A uniformed woman with a microphone announced, “Those who are signed up for the snorkel expedition, gather at pier B. Everyone who is planning to enjoy the beach activities, stop off at the booth with the thatched roof to pick up your bottled water.”
    I wished Neil would say something—anything—so our being together wouldn’t seem so awkward, but he didn’t, and I couldn’t think of any small talk. To kill time, I glanced around at the others waiting in the narrow passage. To my surprise, I saw Mr. Diago, who was obviously alone, with no nephew in sight. As many of the passengers did, he carried a small sports bag. His was green with a sports logo on one side, and he was dressed in neatly pressed slacks and a white polo shirt. That was not the kind of outfit to wear for a day at the beach.
    “Neil,” I began, “there’s something strange about—”
    The woman speaking into the microphone overrode what I had hoped to say. “Form two straight lines as you board the tender,” she called out. “Be sure you have your blue card. You won’t be able to reboard the ship without it.”
    “What did you say?” Neil bent to ask me, but the crowd surged forward.
    I shook my head. “I’ll tell you later,” I said, and glanced again at Mr. Diago, who was up ahead. I was growing more and more sure that Mr. Diago’s nephew, Ricky, had not returned to the ship before it sailed. But Mr. Diago was pretending that he had. Why?
    I followed Mr. Diago onto the boat, deliberately sitting beside him. “Good morning,” I said.
    “Good morning,” he answered. His smile flickered, and his words were clipped. “We have good weather. It’s a beautiful day.”
    “Yes indeed,” I said. “By the way, Mr. Diago, where is Ricky?”
    “Ricky slept late. He will be along soon,” he answered. He looked away, toward the beach.
    But by the time the boat pulled away from the pier, Ricky still hadn’t joined us.

4

    MUCH LATER, AFTER OUR MORNING OF SNORKELING, I climbed up the gangplank into the tour boat, turned in my snorkel gear, and accepted an oversized towel and a box lunch an attendant handed me. I spread my towel on a bench on the lower deck, which was open to the air but shaded by the