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Rumor had it that Hoagie had already nailed three cheerleaders and was working on the girls in the Pep Club. Most of the girls and even some of the women teachers swooned whenever he walked by. I considered Hoagie a poacher. His age and status gave him an unfair advantage. I figured the main reason he’d picked Punahou was because of our girls. He’d dated Dawn Yamashita his first week on campus and Dawn cried her eyes out during a movie McQueen made the seniors watch. In the movie, this naive girl is seduced by a jerk and there are all these corny allusions to sex, like a jackhammer busting through asphalt and a pile driver pounding a pile through the ground. Wayne said, “Geev um, Hoagie!” and everyone laughed. Dawn ran sobbing out of McNeil Auditorium.
Ben had heard that Hoagie would start out by advising a girl and then invite her over to his studio to see his Princeton yearbook—it wouldn’t be long before he had her on his waterbed.
“How’s the sex life, Hoagie?” Steve asked.
Hoagie frowned. “These Punahou chicks make you work.”
“Thought you scored Nina Zappaterra?”
“Skin-on-skin,” he said. He rolled over on his belly and did pushups on the lawn. The red pencil didn’t fall out as he went up and down. It was as if the pencil was glued to his head. “It’s tough getting the juice.”
“What about Princeton?” I asked.
“What about it?”
“Don’t you get any juice over there?”
“Gallons,” Hoagie said. 

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