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By Dave Nevison

The hugely unique autobiography punter and making a bet pundit Dave Nevison. a well-recognized, revered and well known determine either at the racecourse and on tv, Nevison is that rarest, such a lot envied of racing characters - a really profitable gambler.

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E) Knowing that Dune would be at the country club in less than two hours flirting with Skye Hamilton and the DSL Daters? F) Not having any plans on her day off? G) All of the above. The answer was clear. It was G, all of the above. And choosing G meant texting M, aysap. Kristen lifted her arm off David Beckham and palm-patted her night table. She knuckle-bumped her hard copy of The Daring Book for Girls, an empty bottle of Vitamin Water, the base of her lime-green lamp, which matched the painted walls perfectly, and finally, her black Razr.

Her top arm rose and fell with his breath, a gentle rhythm like the lazy sway of a hammock. It had offered her solace many times in the past. Like the time she’d gotten a super-short boy cut. Or when she’d gotten kicked out of OCD. And even a few weeks ago, after her parents had announced she’d be spending another boring summer at home. But this morning, no matter how hard she side-hugged her fluffy white Persian kitty, Kristen could not get rid of the churn in her stomach. In fact, every time she thought about her visit to GAS Park it got bigger.

The sprawling green grounds of the Westchester Country Club were just ahead. As always, the majestic stone clubhouse seemed to glare at her with condescension, reminding Kristen that even though she had eaten in the Blocks’ formal dining room with Massie—twice—she definitely did not belong. It was shocking that Dune wanted to stop within a mile of the ultra-exclusive club. From what Kristen knew, it seemed like the kind of place that would make his down-to-earth CLAM blood boil. But as the truck slowed to a stop, it all became clear—the grinding sound of wheels zipping across the pavement, the clusters of helmet-wearing kids addicted to Red Bull and bruises, the rolling asphalt hills.

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