Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/113

 "Whataya writing, Clara?" a girl whispered.

"Letter," Clara muttered, absorbed.

"Have you got the answer to Problem Twelve? I can't get it."

"Neither can I. Ask Lucille."

"Where'd ya go last night, Stinky?" asked a gruff voice.

"I ain't saying."

"Keep it then … I just had an extra girl with Florence last night."

"Ya did? Who?"

"Ain't saying."

"Why?"

"Ain't saying."

"Ya don't need to get mad."

Some of them murmured and others tittered.

"Did you see your father … I mean Bob, this morning?" stammered Joy.

"No, I didn't, Joy," Gaylord answered. He thought, now why did she ask me if I saw Dad this morning?

The bell rang for the first class and someone yelled, "There she goes, slaves."

Practically everyone stood and vanished as if by magic.

Gaylord gave a deep sigh and gathered his books. What would happen this morning? How could he face the three in the gym class? Why was he suddenly afraid? What would they try today? Should he speak to them or not? Thoughts, thoughts … when he looked up, he saw Rogers standing beside him.

"Be seeing you, Gaylord."

"Sure," he replied hastily. "Maybe we can have lunch together?" Now why did I say that, he pondered. If he says yes, I won't be able to see Bob until this evening.

Gaylord glanced at Rogers, hoping he'd have other plans.

"That'll be swell," Rogers grinned.

Rogers spoke with convincing sincerity. There had indeed been a great change in his attitude since that first handshake.

"I'll meet you at the front door," Gaylord said, closing his loose-leaf notebook, replacing some of his books in his desk.

"All right. I'll be there." 103