The Buck Pass

The Buck Pass Chapter 10

 

CHAPTER TEN

The Closed-Minded Artist

 

 

 

“Ow!” Trini yelped, clutching her throbbing arm. She turned to glare at the woman who had crashed into her, yelled a halfhearted “sorry!” over her shoulder, and then kept on running. Whether she was in a major hurry or just majorly rude, it was hard to tell. Being as this was New York, she was probably both.People in Boston had seemed much less likely to plough into each other at random.

Heaving a gigantic sigh in addition to her heavy, pink duffle bag, Trini made her way towards a nearby soda machine. If she was going to see her parents again, for the first time since starting her freshman year at Harvard, she was going to need a drink. And since the alcoholic variety was not available, she would have to make do with the sugary stuff. Pulling a handful of quarters out of her purse – leftovers from her stash of laundry money – she pushed them through the coin slot.

“ERROR.” The warning message on the machine’s digital screen flashed in big, red LED letters. It blinked on and off several times, aggravating the headache that had started brewing in Trini’s brain as soon as she had stepped off the airplane.

“Damn,” she muttered, pushing a few of the brightly colored buttons and banging on the machine with the palm of her hand. As experience had taught her, sometimes the crudest forms of tech support were the most effective.

“ERROR, ERROR,” the machine flashed again, mocking her attempts. Trini banged on it once more, taking some pleasure in releasing her aggressions on an inanimate object.

In reply, the soda machine made a few beeping noises, flashed “ERROR” once more, and, to Trini’s surprise, spit out a dollar bill. Taking hold of it, she brought it to eye level, her curiosity peaked by the buck’s unusual markings. Grinning at the heart that was tattooed around Washington’s head, and at the star that hovered near his left ear like some sort of presidential, punk-rock earring, Trini folded the dollar carefully and placed it into her wallet, in back of all the other bills so that she would be less likely to spend it. Inexplicably, she had the urge to hold onto it for a while; a dollar like that deserved some respect.

Giving up on the idea of getting anything else from the soda machine, Trini repositioned the huge duffle bag over her shoulder and hightailed it out of LaGuardia airport as fast as she could. Bypassing the mile-long line of overwhelmed tourists and harried-looking business people who were waiting for taxi cabs, she took a right turn and headed for the bus stop. The New York City public transit system may not have been the most glamorous way to travel, but it was quick and efficient. When the bus arrived, she hopped on, squeezed herself and the duffle bag onto a seat between two other weary travelers, and sat back to watch as they rode through some incredibly sketchy neighborhoods in Queens, and some even sketchier ones in Harlem. Halfway through her journey, Trini got off the first bus and transferred to a second, which took her down Fifth Avenue – where the view began to change.

Suddenly, the buildings became bigger, cleaner, and less dilapidated. The streets, which had previously been littered with piles of rotting trash, were now lined with trees and dotted with trendy little shops, such as clothing boutiques and gourmet eateries. They had entered the Upper East Side, which, although only a short distance from Harlem and Queens, seemed like another planet in comparison. Women in sky-high heels, on their way to charity brunches, waved their well-manicured hands for a taxicab; men in ridiculously expensive suits, heading to business lunches, dashed along the sidewalks; the scent of wealth permeated the air. It was here that Trini got off the bus.