Traffic (Complete two-hundred pages) (Moving to Kindle Vella in 30 Days! )

29

BUS

HE GOT ON THE BUS. It beeped, he threw in some cash, the doors closed. The steering wheel turned and he had to catch himself lest he fall. There was only a kid in a long black shirt, black joggers and red converse that popped out like a sore thumb sitting at the back of the bus.

"Excuse me," said Jack, walking up directly besides the kid. The kid had his feet up and obviously had no intention of abiding by any curfew set by his parents.

"'Sup." The kid thought at first to set his feet down off the rail. But then he sized Jack up and decided to throw his feet even higher on the hand pole.

Jack noticed. "Do you have the time?"

"You have a watch," said the kid in Spanish.

Jack looked over at his wrist and sure enough he had a watch. "Oh, right," said Jack. Well that was dumb. Best be straightforward. He whipped out the piece of paper from his pocket. It was wet. And he handed it to the kid. "Would you mind checking your phone for this address?"

The kid looked at the wad of paper, dumbfounded by its wetness, and dropped his feet to unravel its contents. Sure enough, the ink was smudged. "What address?"

"Goddammit," Jack said in English. He realized this and looked over at the kid for his reaction. The kid merely shot him a look that read, "Tough day?"

"Tough week," Jack said with his face.

"Here, Gringo, take my phone and look up wherever you're going," said the kid in Spanish.

"You don't mind?" said Jack. He took the kid's phone.

The kid merely looked out the bus windows. Rain rolled down in a soothing fashion that warped the orange streetlights. "I've got nowhere to be."

Jack couldn't help but examine the kid and empathize. "Family troubles?"

The kid shook his head. "No." That was all he said. At first. But then Jack waited to let him speak. It was the least he could do to listen to the kid who was so good to offer his phone. After a minute the kid heaved a sigh and then suddenly his lips trembled. He hid his face from Jack with his hand but Jack could still see him from the window. His eyes were closed.

"Do you need a place to stay?"

"No."

"Where's your home?"

The kid said nothing.

Jack realized he was just wasting time now. He looked down at the phone and turned it on. There was a picture of a little boy and his sister and mother. A tin hut sat beside them. And dead grass. And a muddy white truck. Jack searched the Maps app and typed in Avenida Presidente Masaryk 390A.

It would take a 40-minute bus ride. All he had to do was wait.