

So different from the autumn chill we left in Grand Rapids.

It’s late morning and the sun already blazes down on us like a fireball in the sky. “It’s hot as Hell,” Livie exclaims at the same time that I sense a trickle of sweat run down my back. No matter, I tell myself as I throw an arm over my sister’s shoulders in a side hug. It’s all we managed to throw together in our rush out of Uncle Raymond and Aunt Darla’s house. Our lives, all of our belongings, have been reduced to one suitcase each. I quickly spot our matching hot pink suitcases. Unless you want to spend another day going back to Michigan.” That idea gets her body moving.īy the time we step off the bus, the driver has unloaded the luggage from the undercarriage. I’m already standing in the aisle, readying our backpacks. “We made it?” She asks through a yawn, sitting up to stretch and scope out the scenery.

Livie’s eyelids flutter open and half-dazed blue irises stare out at the Miami bus terminal for a moment. After twenty-two hours on this damn bus, pulling the emergency hatch and jumping through the window sounds appealing. I’ve got to get out of here before I lose my shit!” I don’t mean to bark, but I can’t help it. “Olivia Cleary!” I snap as passengers rustle through the overhead compartments and gather their belongings. I get a clumsy wave and pouty “don’t bug me, I’m sleeping” lip. “Livie,” I call again with an impatient bite in my tone. A line of flaky, dry spit snakes down her chin. I don’t know how she can sleep like that, but she’s managed to, snoring softly for the past six hours. She grumbles and nuzzles her head against the window. “We’re here.” I give Livie’s arm a gentle shake. “Yeah,” I answer, my usual calm, vacant voice returning. She nods and shifts back to take her seat on the bus. Swallowing, I manage to croak out, “thank you.” She removes her hand with a gentle smile. My body curls into itself before I can stop the knee-jerk response to her touch. I turn to find a lady stooped in the aisle, concern on her deeply wrinkled face, her twisted, old fingers on my shoulder. “You were gaspin’ for air somethin’ fierce,” the voice says.

It takes me a moment to find my bearings, to calm my hammering heart. My eyes fly open to find a faded headrest in front of me.
