Imaginer

39 - Where There is an Encounter

39

         I clenched my teeth and steeled myself to drop a few coins from my dwindling money supply into the fare box. The driver gave me a small nod and I looked out at the array of passengers, searching for an empty spot. A sea of faces stared back at me; some were tired, some sleeping. Elderly women wrapped in tartan scarves against the chill, teens chatting with their friends.

         This was only my second day of travelling alone, and already, I felt miserable and stupid. It frightened me to peek into my wallet and see how empty it was.

         What the hell were you thinking, Jasslyn?

         I don’t know.

         Well that’s stupid.

         I scowled and pressed the heels of my palm to my eyes. I didn’t know where to go. My mind was still set on travelling, had gotten kinda used to it, even, despite how I slept with worry occupying every corner of my brain. I wasn’t ready to go home yet, where I had to face my mother, the school, maybe even get interrogated. I’d decided to head east, as east as public transit would take me, and, well, if blind groping didn’t turn out so well, I’d head home.

         I made my way to the rear of the bus where I thought an empty seat was. Instead, a boy with his hood pulled up sat slumped, too wrapped up in his music and headphones to notice me come to a halt and veer away. I squeezed myself into an aisle seat a few rows further back, next to a snoring middle-aged man.

         As the bus swayed and trundled down the street, I felt my thoughts wander back to my unfortunate predicament. A girl travelling alone was trouble already, but a girl that had no real place to go? My situation was worsening by the day, not to mention how I couldn’t travel whenever I wanted—I limited myself to early morning, lunch hour, and afterschool hours to avoid looking suspicious. The places I stayed at were becoming increasingly filthy and poor. Motels were the only affordable places to crash at now; I was lucky to get four or five hours of sleep these days, and a hot shower was a luxury rarely had.

         I wrinkled my nose in distaste as I thought of yet another inescapable meal of McDonald’s.

         Tsss…clunk. Screeeeech.

         The bus trundled to a stop as a couple of passengers stood and made their way out onto—I glanced past the man, out the window—the corner of Russell and Frederick street.

         I told myself I would get off the bus in three more stops.

         It would be enough for the day. I could walk another block and find a place to sleep.

         I adjusted my backpack and sat it down in my lap. My eyes closed sleepily as the bus rumbled over a smoother lane, paved oh-so nicely, free of bumps and cracks. The sleeping business- man beside me gave a particularly loud snort and shook his head like a dog ridding itself of water.

         “Whuddimesit?” he grunted.

         I blinked and squinted at him. “Pardon?”

         “What time is it?” he repeated sluggishly, leaning in closer, as if I had trouble hearing. The smell of baloney fanned over my face and I had to steel myself not to wrinkle my nose and exhale loudly to keep the stench out of my nose.

         “Um…let me check.” I fumbled in my coat pocket for my cell phone, only to come up empty-handed. Panic alarms sounded in my head as I started to search more wildly, patting my pockets here and there. The man’s face was too close, and the strong smell of mystery meat began to make me gag.