The Long Bus Ride
I have been on a bus for the last 22 hours. I’ve never traveled like this before—except on school field trips. Twenty-two hours is a long time. We stop often to drop off or pick up people. But I don’t understand what’s happening.
My mom and I keep asking about the situation, but no one tells us much. We aren’t moving forward, and it feels unsettling. I’m only 12 years old.
A Kind Stranger
I must have looked tired because a man gave me his seat. It was the back seat, like a bench where you can spread out.
Why did this young man give up his seat for me? Where is he going? Had he been on this long trip too, and I didn’t notice? What made him do this? I don’t understand.
Facing Aunt Fran
I told the truth. I spoke up about the touching that didn’t stop. I know I was wronged. So why do I feel bad? Why do I feel guilty?
I don’t remember much about the last 22 hours—it’s a blur—but I know enough. Am I being punished? That’s the real question.
Our first stop was with my Aunt Fran. Oh my God, why did I have to stay with her? She is awful. I feel like I’m being punished again. No one told me what was going on.
I’m glad my sister and brother won’t meet her. She is rude, loud, and nasty.
We had to take a taxi because her son didn’t want to be around her. She yelled at the driver the entire ride. It was awful to watch.
I don’t even know where we are going. How can my mom be related to her?
Memories and Hope
Thank God, while I was there, I saw a file with papers from when I was in kindergarten. I’m twelve now.
I smiled, it was a note from a favorite teacher she said kind words about me and I remember making brownies.
Staying Hidden
My mom found out a police officer lived nearby. We had to keep moving to stay hidden.
