My two friends fall into the pool, but it doesn't cool them off—-if anything, the rage boils over as they tear into each other, bodies slamming together, clawing, punching. I know the end is near—-their grunts of exertion louder with each new attack, all of their strength and energy channelled into each move or counter. As the water settles a bit, I see Bridgette’s thighs pressing into Erin’s neck, her face turning red, and then being held under the surface, an underwater head-scissor. I can’t help but feeling horrified yet excited—-what a move! Erin flails, and either escapes the hold or is let go, but it’s clear, she’s done. Bridgette staggers to her feet and places her foot on Erin’s neck—-sneering but victorious, lording over the beaten younger fighter. Alarmed, I call the cabana-boy over. Pointing to the two battered girls, I tell him, “Please make sure we get separate checks, ok?”
