The Kids on Exspes Street

Chapter 7: Escape

Sage sits on the edge of the curb, her hand propped up with her chin as a cigarette hangs loosely from between her teeth. The rain pelts the pavement bitterly, forcing her vibrant red hair to be plastered to her face. The city bus screeches to a halt, sending muddy water teeming with dirt and bits of gravel to splash onto Sage's sopping wet Converse. It wasn't like she was very dry beforehand, sitting in the pouring rain and all.

Without much emotion, Sage stands up, wringing out her hair and carelessly tossing the dimming cigarette butt towards the trashcan, and boards the bus. She recieves a few foul looks from some of the older folks sitting in the front, but she ignores their glares. Without missing a beat she plops into the aisle seat in the very back of the bus, her shoes squeaking against the dirty gray flooring and the backpack hanging carelessly from her shoulder slips into the seat next to her, its now soaking wet contents dripping onto the seat. 

Everyone who had been disgruntled by the moody teenagers careless enrance had now resumed their previous tendencies, be it snoring, sighing, or flipping through the pages of some trashy tabloid they had picked up at the bus stop. In a matter of seconds, she was forgotten again. Then again, that was a daily occurrence for Sage.

The bus groaned as the driver shifted gears and the grimy bus began to move again, picking up speed as they drove by the gas station, pet shop, and elementary school where children awaited outside the doors and splashed around in the rain. It was an average Friday morning in Anobaith County.

But as the bus rumbled on down the pothole-covered rode, and Sage's petite frame was jostled about on the uncomfortable seats, making every inflicted bruise and scar ache and sting again, she decided one thing. It was impulsive, reckless, and not terribly realistic.

She was never, ever coming back.