IT’S A FEW minutes shy of six on a Friday, and Gabriel strolls into the misty San Francisco evening. Seeing his ride, he walks past his ninth-grade classmates loitering around their prep school’s entrance, waiting for a parent or babysitter to shuttle them home. He approaches the van parked at the curb with the bright pink kangaroo pasted on its side, slides open the door, and jumps into the back seat.
