The Silver Star(8)

“Do you think we’ll like Virginia?”

I asked. “You’ll like it, Bean.”

“Mom hated it.”

“Mom has found something wrong with every place we’ve ever lived.”


I fell asleep quickly, like I usually did, but even though it was still dark when my eyes popped open, I felt completely awake and charged up, the way you do when you’ve got to jump out of bed and get cracking because you have a big day ahead with no time to waste.

Liz was up, too. She turned on the light and sat down at the kitchen table. “We have to write Mom a letter,” she said.

While I heated up our chicken potpies and poured out the last of the orange juice, Liz worked on the letter. She said she had to write it in such a way that Mom would understand it but no one else would.

The letter was classic Liz.

Dear Queen of Hearts,

Due to the sudden presence of bandersnatches in the vicinity, we decided it was prudent to vacate the premises and pay a visit to the Mad Hatter Tinsley and Martha, the Dormouse. We’ll be waiting for you on the other side of the Looking Glass, in your old haunted haunts, that Land of the Lintheads, where Bean was born and the borogoves are mimsy.

Love,

Tweedledee and Tweedledum





We left the letter on the kitchen table, held down by the glazed iris-blue mug Mom had made when she was in her ceramic-pottery phase.





CHAPTER FOUR


Two people got off the bus when it pulled into the depot, so we were able to snag their primo seats up front on the right side, which had better views than the left side, behind the driver. Liz let me have the window, and I held Fido in his Tupperware bowl with a little water in the bottom, an upside-down saucer for him to sit on, and holes punched in the lid so he could breathe.

As we pulled away, I looked out the window, hoping Mom had returned and would come running up the street before we left for parts unknown. But the street was empty.

The bus was crowded, and since everyone on it was making a journey with a purpose, we played What’s Their Story?—another game Liz had made up—trying to guess where the passengers were going and why, whether they were happy or scared, whether they were heading toward something wonderful and exciting or fleeing from danger or failure, whether they were going off on a visit or leaving their home forever. Some were easy. The young military guy snoozing with his head on his duffel bag was on home leave to visit his family and girlfriend in ranchland. A frail woman with a small daughter had a strained look in her eyes and one hand wrapped in a splint. Liz guessed that she was on the run from a man who beat her. A thin guy in a plaid jacket with lank hair pushed behind his jug ears was sitting across from us. As I looked at him, trying to figure out if he was an absentminded mathematical genius or just a schlub, he caught my eye and winked.

I quickly looked away—it was always so embarrassing to be caught staring at people—but when I glanced back at him a little bit later, he was still eyeballing me. He winked again. I had that uh-oh feeling, and sure enough, when Liz got up to go to the bathroom, the schlub came over and sat down next to me, draping his arm across the back of my seat. He pressed his finger down on Fido’s Tupperware bowl.

“What you got in there?” he asked.

“My pet turtle.”

“You got a ticket for him?” He looked at me intently, then gave another wink. “Just funning you,” he said. “You girls going far?”

“Virginia,” I said.

“All on your own?”

“We’ve got our mother’s permission.” And then I added, “And our father’s.”

“I see,” he said. “You’re sisters.” He leaned in on me. “You’ve got incredibly beautiful eyes, you know.”

“Thank you,” I said, and looked down. All of a sudden, I felt very uncomfortable.

Just then Liz came back from the bathroom. “You’re in my seat, mister,” she said.

“Simply getting to know your sister, miss.” He rose up out of the seat. “She says you’re going all the way to Virginia? Heck of a long journey for two pretty young gals to be making on their own.”

“None of your business,” Liz told him. She sat down. “A total perv,” she whispered to me. “I can’t believe you told that odiosity where we were going. That’s such a Bean-headed thing to do.”

The Perv took his seat but kept staring over at us, so Liz decided we needed to move. The only two free seats were at the very back, next to the bathroom. You could smell the chemicals and the other gross stuff in the toilet, and every time folks squeezed past us to use it, you could hear them running the water, blowing their noses, and hawking, not to mention doing number one or number two.