Mavis Jeeter sat on the bus stop bench beside her mother and whispered goodbye to Hadley, Georgia. She took a deep breath and let out a big, heaving sigh to send a signal to her mother that she was tired of saying goodbye.
“Why can’t we stay here?” she asked every time her mother announced that they were moving.
Then her mother would explain how she was sick of Podunk towns and godforsaken places. How she needed a change of scenery. How she had a friend or a cousin or a boyfriend waiting somewhere else.
This time they were leaving Hadley, Georgia, so her mother could work as a housekeeper for a rich family in Landry, Alabama.
Mavis let out another heaving sigh that blew her tangled hair up off her forehead. Then she leaned forward and squinted down the road.
“When’s the bus coming?” she asked for the umpteenth time.
“Soon,” her mother said for the umpteenth time.
Sometimes Mavis wished she lived with her father in Tennessee instead of just visiting him every now and then. Her father stayed in one place. But then, he lived with his mother, who disapproved of Mavis.
“That child runs wild,” she complained right in front of Mavis. “Not one lick of discipline from that so-called mother of hers,” she’d say, as if Mavis were invisible and not sitting on the couch there beside her. “Lets her run wild,” she’d mutter, flinging her arms up and shaking her head.
Finally, the bus came roaring up the road, and the next thing Mavis knew, she was watching Hadley, Georgia, disappear outside the window.
“Goodbye, fourth grade,” she whispered when the bus rumbled past Hadley Elementary School. “Have a nice summer,” she added.
It was only a few weeks ago that kids had hooted and hollered on the last day of school, but now the window shades were drawn in the empty classrooms.
“So long, Bi-Lo,” she whispered when they passed the grocery store where her mother had worked for a few months—until she came home one day and announced, “I’m not asking ‘Paper or plastic?’ ever again.”
“Adios, best friend,” Mavis whispered as they drove past Candler Road, where her best friend, Dora Radburn, lived. Then she let out another big, heaving sigh. Actually, now that she thought about it, Dora hadn’t really been a best friend. She never saved Mavis a seat at lunch, and she had flat-out lied about her birthday party. Maybe if the Jeeters stayed in one place long enough, Mavis could have a real best friend.
So as the bus turned onto the interstate, Mavis said one final goodbye to Hadley, Georgia, and decided right then and there that in Landry, Alabama, she would have a real best friend.