Free South beach by Aimee Friedman Page A

rope chuckled and told them, "Go back to high school." Alexa was miffed, since she was sure she looked better than the twenty-something models who were lined up outside, chain-smoking.
    "Asshole," Kaitlin muttered, striding back toward Washington Avenue. "Come on, you guys. Let's go to Ohio's."
    Ohio's was a lively bar on Ocean Drive, right near the Flamingo. There was a line outside, too, but the crowd here was definitely more casual: boys in cargo shorts and white hats; sunburned girls in halter dresses. The bouncer was a tall, dark-skinned guy who wore a newsboy cap over his long dreadlocks. And he seemed more laid-back than the Vin Diesel wannabe at Rumi, Alexa observed as she and the others got in line.
    Alexa and Thomas were in front, with Kaitlin, Daisy, Jonathan, and Aaron right behind them. Alexa craned her neck, looking for Holly, and felt relieved when she saw her standing by Jonathan. Alexa could just picture Holly getting lost and wandering the
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    streets alone all night. The line surged forward. Alexa stepped up to the bouncer, gave him her most dazzling smile, and flashed her fake ID. She'd gotten it two years ago in New York City, and, according to the birth date, she was twenty-three. She knew she could pull off that age, especially in her flouncy skirt and heels.
    The bouncer smiled back at her, obviously charmed. He barely glanced at the ID, and waved her in. As Alexa sauntered through the door, she saw throngs of rowdy kids grouped around the long, curved bar. Most everyone seemed to be her age, or maybe in college. Straight ahead, the room opened up to a good-sized dance floor. The DJ was spinning Pitbull -- the perfect music to welcome her to Miami, Alexa realized with a grin. People were dancing in big groups, and couples were grinding. Spring break has officially begun, Alexa thought, and headed straight for the bar.
    Meanwhile, outside, Aaron, Kaitlin, Daisy, Jonathan, and Thomas were flashing their own fake IDs at the bouncer. Holly watched them troop into the bar. She'd purposely stood at the back of the line to avoid being near Aaron. As she stepped forward, there were serious butterflies in her stomach. It hadn't occurred to her until now that the bouncer might not let her in. She remembered her conversation with Alexa
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    on the plane. Why didn't I ever get a fake ID? Holly berated herself. Of course, she never anticipated ending up in a situation quite like this one.
    Her palms clammy, Holly reached into her purse and pulled out her New Jersey driver's permit. She glanced down at it, then quickly stuffed it back in her bag. The bouncer would never let her in if he saw she was sixteen.
    "Um, hi," she said. She hadn't noticed from the back of the line how tall the bouncer was. "I feel really stupid, but I forgot my ID in my motel room...."
    "Sorry, miss," the bouncer interrupted. "No ID, no entrance."
    Holly was seized by panic. She couldn't be left outside the bar like a loser. "But -- but I swear I'm twenty-one! And all my friends just went in and ..." What was she going to do? Did the rest of the group even realize she was stuck out here?
    "Rules are rules, miss," the bouncer said, shaking his head. "I can't let you in. Now, please step aside."

A sharp elbow in Holly's side sent her stumbling out of line. She whirled around and saw a long-faced girl with her hair in pigtails saunter by, shove her ID in the bouncer's face, and amble into Ohio's, shooting a snide look back at Holly. There were titters from other people on line, who had clearly witnessed Holly's exchange with the bouncer.
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    Near tears, Holly walked to the corner, away from the laughter. Suddenly, a boozy-looking boy with curly orange hair, wearing a backward Red Sox cap, came over to her.
    "Hey, you," he said, slinging an arm around Holly. "What's wrong? Why didn't the bouncer let you in?"
    "Leave ... me ... alone," Holly said through gritted teeth, trying to get his arm off her. She was shaking a little. This creep was the