The bass and treble spill out of the cheap headphones that this kid about my age is wearing. Every thirty seconds or so, he gets really animated, making wild gestures with both his hands. I’d like to sleep, but his noise drowns out my beach waves. I’m also too pumped up from the victory last night, from talking to Trina on the bus this morning, and for the state championship game tonight.
When the bus makes a wide turn, the two bags of groceries I got at Foodland spill on the floor. As I pick up the food, I add up in my head how much money will be left over from my next paycheck. With no money coming in except what I make, I’ll have to start hitting the church pantries again.
Mr. Robbins offered to let me have the morning off to rest up for the game, but I told him no. He told me I’m dedicated. I am. Not to him or to Ryan’s but to helping Mom and me get out of here someday, maybe to California. Here, no matter how bright the sun, it always seems gray.
The wide streets of the city are free of cars, except those that are so patched up that I don’t know how they don’t fall apart with all the potholes that the city never fixes. There are some people walking down the sidewalks, always in small groups. Nobody feels safe alone. The pitted sidewalk is filled with cigarette butts. Each block looks the same: house, vacant lot, house for sale, deserted house, and house with an overgrown lawn. Nobody has any money here except the people taking the little bit of money the poor people have to spend. At the corner, there are a few stores, only about half of them open at this hour of the morning. Check-cashing places next to pawnshops next to the corner store selling lottery tickets. There are no decent places to eat or get fresh vegetables, but every big intersection has a church. Spirit full, but belly empty.
The guy in the headphones gets off at the stop before mine. As soon as he’s off the bus, he pulls out a smoke and lights it. The smoke makes the sky grayer. He heads for a corner store with the words beer, wine, and lottery in neon lights. I pull the cord and gather my things. This is my stop, but no matter what, I’m not staying here. These sidewalks won’t suck me down.