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She shook her head in exasperation. “At your age, everything is important; everything has to happen right now. Your father was counting on that fishing trip next week. You know how much—” “We’ll go fishing when I get back. Look, I have to go up there one way or the other; I just wanted to let you know where I was going to be, and it would be a big help if you could lend me a little extra money. If you don’t want to, then—” “Well, you’re old enough to be in college, so you’re old enough to go wherever you please.

I just worry about you, that’s all. It’s what mothers are for … besides lending money.” She winked, and opened her purse. Jeff threw some clothes in a suitcase, put the two hundred dollars his mother had given him into a pair of rolled-up socks. He was out of the house before his father or sister got up. The old Chevy was parked in the curved driveway, behind his father’s big Buick Electra and his mother’s Pontiac. The car gave a familiar cough when Jeff started it up, then came rumbling to life. He pulled out of the suburban development where his parents lived, skirted Little Lake Conway, and sat for a moment with the engine idling when he came to the intersection of Hoffner Road and Orange Avenue.