The first two nights she had spent on the beach; the third one she spent with a guy she didn't know in a Panama City motel room with six other kids. It didn't matter. She wasn't going home again anyway. She was twenty years old and she didn't have to account to anyone for what she did.She was flunking out of the University of Virginia, and her parents had made it clear she would either make it in college or she'd have to come home and get a job. Well, screw them. She could make it on her own. She didn't need their house and she didn't need their bullshit.She'd planned spring break in Panama City for weeks, long before she knew that even perfect scores on her midterms—fat chance—wouldn't bring her average up enough to keep her off scholastic probation. She'd seen no reason to change her plans after her folks had given her their ultimatum, and she and a bunch of kids had taken turns driving down, making it in just over twelve hours. Since then, it had been one long party, a few good drugs, a lot of cheap booze, and a hell of a good time.Today she'd hooked up with two of the kids she'd driven down with and they had picked up some Penn State hotshots who decided it might be cool to cruise on out of the city in search of bigger beaches.
