Page 37

“Wakey, Wakey, Eggs and Bakey!”

Fortune’s voice bounced off the walls of the cabin of the bus, amplified and echoing.

“Good morning to you, too,” Tempest mumbled, without moving.

“Good morning! Good morning!” Each repetition was louder and more pointed than the last, delivered with the rhythm of a child banging a spoon on a highchair tray. Tempest groaned.

There was a short silence. Then she felt the scratchy presence of avian feet stepping deliberately up her shin, scaling her knee, and hopping onto her hip. Then the shudder of a parrot ruffling her feathers, followed by the weight of her settling down. Then, at last, blessed stillness.

And then, twice as loud as her last attempt: “BREAKFAST TIME!”

Tempest gave up.

She pushed her seat up and squinted out at the unfamiliar world. The trees were greener. The sky was bigger, and so much bluer than back in the city. Everything seemed super saturated.

It was the Columbia River she’d heard. It ran right alongside the highway here. It was rushing by beyond the trees. She sat and watched it for a moment, wishing she had some coffee.

Fortune clicked her beak insistently, right beside her ear.

“Alright. Alright.” Tempest started the bus. “Let’s see if we can round up someplace to eat.”

There was a rest area with a mini market ten-minutes further up the road. Tempest pulled into the parking lot and fed Fortune a snack before heading in. It felt good to stretch her legs.

“Morning!” she greeted the sallow-faced clerk who was reading the newspaper behind the counter.

“Hmph.” He didn’t look up.

Okay then. She wasn’t too cheerful before coffee either.

Tempest was starving but everything on the shelves looked past its expiration date and slightly off. Pickle-flavored potato chips and sarsaparilla chewing gum. Pale, stale buns in cellophane wrappers and plastic packets of something pale yellow and gooey looking that came with crackers.

Aside from that there was a basket of bruised apples and brown paper bags full of sunflower seeds. The drip coffee smelled stale and burnt, but she filled a Styrofoam cup. It barely changed color when she stirred in the powdered creamer. She bought two bananas, one sad bun, and a packet of dried mango slices to share with Fortune. There wasn’t much else to choose from, so she grabbed the sunflower seeds for her bird as well.

Counting out her change at the register, Tempest was painfully aware of how little she had to her name. The savings she’d built up over years of frugal living had mostly gone back into the bus: the engine work, the sealant, the flooring, the convertible banquette and modest bathroom. What was left was not enough to keep Fortune in birdseed.

Tempest carried the shopping bag and coffee back to the bus. She ate her breakfast at the wheel while Fortune dismantled the dried mango.

As she ate she tried to calculate how many days she could make the money last. Her brain was playing tricks on her, looking for loopholes. What if she only ate two light meals a day? Six days, max. She might make it to eight if she was very careful and didn’t buy anything she didn’t strictly need and didn’t fill the tank more than once.

Too late she wondered if she should have taken another day or so to think this all through. A bus full of books, a parrot, an atlas with blank pages, and six days of money was a reaction. It was not a plan. She was no better than a child who’d thrown a tantrum and run away from home. She had no idea where she was going or what to do, and she lacked the resources to sustain herself. Clement would have had something smug to say about that, if he knew. But she was not going to think about Clement.

She was thinking about Clement.

Her stomach twisted in knots. By now they would have realized that she, along with all the books, was gone. What if her stepfather came after her? Not for her, she knew better than to imagine he cared what became of her. But he’d warned her not to take the books. A hundred and twelve boxes of contraband that were now magically compressed, sitting on the shelves of her school bus.

Tempest peeled a second banana and told herself that there was nothing to be done about it right now. The best thing she could do would be to keep moving. She’d already gotten a head start. Clement was probably far too busy counting his cash from the buyout to come after her. Besides, it wasn’t Clement’s merchandise anymore, she rationalized. Maybe the investors wouldn’t come after her. Why bother when they’d planned to pulp the lot?

“I’ll have to alert the authorities.”

She could still hear Clement’s threat in her head. She didn’t think he was bluffing.

Fortune polished off her mango slice. She fluffed herself up and stretched out her wings, then settled back down to a crouch on the dashboard. Tempest stretched out her arm and turned on the radio. She was hoping some music would take her mind off her stepfather, and her utter lack of a plan.

Static crackled over the speakers. As she twirled the dial she heard buzzing, bits and pieces of random songs, and a high pitchy hum. There wasn’t much reception here. She switched to the A.M. channels. Finally, she managed to tune in to a frequency with a decent signal. Not music, though. It was a news and talk station. The host was doing a community announcements segment. They mentioned a bake sale. A pet adoption event. A charity drive for the Boise food bank.

She reached for the dial to try again. What she really needed was some nice, distracting music. But all she could tune into was the same news channel. The next station on the dial seemed to be broadcasting from the same place. She heard the same announcer continuing with his commentary.

‘don’t forget, trivia fans, tonight’s the night. The Regional Qualifying Tournament for the Lucky Duck Trivia Championship, back for its third year at Loaded Spud Tavern in Boise tonight. Doors open at six, competition kicks off at seven. The grand prize tonight is four hundred dollars cash! Pre-registration is appreciated but walk-ins are always welcome. The Loaded Spud is the perfect tavern for weary travelers to pull up for the night, personalize a baked potato, and enjoy a pint! Look for the green sign by the Old Mill Road turnoff, you can’t miss it.”