“All right, all right.” Ross looked around, but neither junior nor elder was anywhere in sight. “Hang by your hands and then drop,” he advised her. “Get moving before somebody shows up.”
“On Holiday?” she asked bitterly. She squirmed over the narrow top of the fence, legs dangling, let herself down as far as she could, and let go. Ross watched anxiously, but she got up quickly enough and moved to one side.
Ross plopped down next to her, knocking the wind out of himself. He got up dizzily.
His ship, in lonesome quiet, was less than a quarter of a mile away. “Let’s go,” Ross panted, and clutched her hand. They skirted another shed and were in the clear, running as fast as they could.
Almost in the clear.
Ross heard the whine of the little scooter before he felt the blow, but it was too late. He sprawled on the ground, dragging Helena after him.
A Senior Citizen with a long-handled rod of the sort Ross remembered all too well was scowling down at them. “Children,” he rumbled through his breast-speaker in a voice of awful disgust, “is this the way to act on Holiday?”
Helena, gibbering in terror, was beyond words. Ross croaked, “Sorry, sir. We—we were just——”
Crash! The rod came down again, and every muscle in Ross’s body convulsed. He rolled helplessly away, the elder following him. Crash! “We give you Holiday,” the elder boomed, “and——” crash “——you act like animals. Terrible! Don’t you know that freedom of play on Holiday——” crash “——is the most sacred right of every junior——” crash “——and heaven help you——” crash “——if you abuse it!”
The wrenching punishment and the caressing voice stopped together. Ross lay blinking into the terrible silence that followed. He became conscious of Helena’s weeping, and forced his head to turn to look at her.