“You let her go! You idiot.”
Lucille tried to calm her breath, her palms desperately clinging to the brick wall behind her. The two police men were still there, she could hear them breathing loudly. But she could tell that they thought that she was long gone. She turned the other way and peered into an underground station. She couldn’t be sure of what kind of a station, but if you were going to make this time count, make this time be the time where you actually get away, make this time be the time to change your life, the type of station doesn’t really matter.
She couldn’t remember which city she was in. Her head was too much of a blur. Maybe somewhere in California? Arizona? Near the Mexican border, she was sure. She didn’t remember them having underground bus stations though. But the bus looked real enough, and wherever it took her had to be better than here, so she ran into the door right as it was closing.
Lucille closed her eyes for a second, pausing before putting her change in, and thought, ‘You got away, Lucille, and you have at least an hour before you will have to worry again. When she opened her eyes, her heart rate had calmed and-
“Hi!”
Lucille jumped. The bus was nothing like any bus she had seen before. It looked like a limo might, if it were long, rectangular, and had individual seats. The walls were black, the seats were black leather, and there was a shag white carpet on the floor. And even weirder, the bus was two seats away from being filled with teenagers that looked just like her. They all looked about her age, dirty, had old backpacks and used cloths.
“What is this?”
“We’re not sure. But we have figured some stuff out.” A blond haired boy in an old green hoodie said. “We are all fourteen, we are all foster kids, and the windows are covered by walls, and we think that they have pictures of a real bus that people can see from the outside printed on them. We are from all over. He is from New York, I am from Illinois, we have like, ten kids from California.”
“Aren’t you guys worried?”
“You should sit down. What’s your name?” the boy asked.
“Lucille. I am from New Mexico, and I am a foster kid. Aren’t you guys just a little freaked out?” She asked, drawing the attention of the kids who had resumed talking.
“No. When this bus pulled up in front of my school, I was excited. I thought that it was my first stroke of good luck, a way to get out.” A girl with a pony tail said.
“It was a way to get out for all of us.” The first boy said. “My name is Max. You really should sit down.”
Lucille almost fell down as the bus pulled to another stop. The door opened and a girl started to get on, and then paused. She looked like she was in a hurry. The background behind her was snowy, there was a forest, and a metal divider, like we were on a highway. The girl looked around the bus, scanning it, and then looked at Lucille. “What?” She asked. But before Lucille could answer, the girl looked behind her, and jumped into the bus, climbing to the back and taking a seat next to Max. She pulled her hood over her face and looked at the door, ready for someone to come in at any second.
Lucille looked out the door, and saw a figure in a blue uniform nearing the bus. Lucille pulled the door shut, and took a seat. The girl had caught her breath, and was starting to open her mouth, when a flat screen TV on the divider between the passengers and the driver flickered to life. The bus fell silent and Lucille could feel it start to move again.
