Blake sat tragically slumped, with his chin propped on his hands over the steering-wheel. “I just heard that Mother’s shipping me off on Wednesday,” he said.
The others gasped in chorus.
“Wednesday!” cried Gin. “You mean to school? California? But that’s just four days from now!”
“Three days. Today is tomorrow. I mean it’s three o’clock.”
In the silence the music in the Gymnasium sounded foolish and far away. Someone scuffled and laughed in one of the nearby automobiles. “You can’t argue with your mother?” Gin asked.
“No. She’s in a state about something. I can’t even talk to her decently.”
Teddy said, “Wait till morning. Maybe she’ll be all right then.”
“No, I don’t dare risk it. It wouldn’t do any good. I’ll just have to go unless I get away before she catches me.”
They must have understood him, for they remained silent. A little breeze came from the mountains.
Gin took a quick, noisy breath and cried, “Well, why shouldn’t you? Let’s all go away now. This minute, while we have a chance.”