Excerpt: Les Trois Destins of Fermier City

Chapter One - Claire (partial)

I look out the window and try to let everything go.

By now, I know the smell of a Greyhound bus is pretty reliable. There's the smoky exhaust and the vinyl seats that give off their own particular brand of yuck. That blue goo they put it the toilet at the back of the bus is sweet and sickening, and the stench of a million rejected losers stains the air. It's like a recipe for poison memory soup.

I always sit in the back seat, toilet smell or not. My saving grace is the heavy roar of the motor behind me that vibrates the bench seat that I'm in. It's enough to erase the mental Etch-A-Sketch when I need to forget why I'm on another trek across the countryside.

It worked for the last five hours, but now the illusion is fading. I'm thirty-seven miles from another new town, another new home, another school, and a group of friends I probably won't get to keep. I have a long trail of come-and-go people that are lost behind this stupid bus. This is my fifth town in as many years. I close my eyes.

***

The bus driver grabs the mic and announces “We'll be pulling into the bus station in a few minutes. Welcome to Iowa City.”

I sit up and look out the window. We're pulling off the interstate down a long road that dips into a valley. The trees are thick and every color of fall. If I wasn't in a strange land facing another strange relative, I might actually be able to enjoy it. The pool of acid in my stomach wakes up at the reminder.

I pull the piece of paper out of my pocket and look at the note scratched out in blue ink. It says Natalie Jones, Universal Action for Youth, 319-555-9406. I'm supposed to meet her at the bus station but I have no idea what she looks like. We've never spoken. I shove the slip of paper back in my pocket and zip my duffel bag shut. Everything I own is stuffed in there. I sling the strap over my shoulder and lean forward on the edge of my seat. A part of me wants to believe that things will go well this time.