Their dark eyes linger on me for a moment before they climb off the bus.
“Does anyone have cell service?” one of the girls from the front of the bus calls out. It takes my brain a sluggish minute to recognize Tiffany; her black braids, once contained, are loose as her wild eyes scan her phone, lifting it up to the ceiling in the universal move to look for a signal. Everyone takes out their phones to check, but the disappointed murmurs give it away. I see my phone on the bus floor and pick it up. Immediately, I know that it’s useless. At some point in the chaos, it got smashed, and the screen will no longer light up. Annoyance surges through me, because now I’ll have to explain to my parents that I broke my phone in a near accident and that’s why I haven’t responded. When we get to San Diego, the beach will need to wait so I can get a new phone, even if it’s temporary.
I turn to Cat and check her over. There’s a tear in her jacket, but she seems otherwise fine. She’s holding her similarly damaged phone in her hand while the other rubs her elbow.
“Are you okay?” I ask, putting a hand on her arm. Her hands are shaking, and her usual cool demeanor is shattered.
“You know me! I’m just a little shaken-not-stirred right now. Besides…” Her voice is frantic and high, so out of character. Cat turns her focus to me, getting a better look at my temple. “You’re the one with a gushing head wound.”She seems glad to have something specific to worry about. My injury helps her come to her senses. She resumes shuffling through bags and pulls out her purse, then digs through it. Always prepared, she rescues a crumpled packet of tissues before leaning forward and gently pressing a few to where I’m bleeding.
“It’s hardly gushing,” I say, taking over holding the tissue. But when I pull it back to look at it, the red-soaked fabric tells a different story. I shrug off my worry. “Head wounds are notorious for bleeding, and these are cheap tissues. Besides, I’m just cold.” I don’t mention that it’s hard to open my left eye—she can probably see that from looking at me.
“Where did you learn that?Grey’s Anatomy? You’re probably going into shock. We all are.” She looks around for something else to staunch the bleeding.
I fold the tissues together and press the clean side to my head harder than before. I can believe that I’m going into shock—my abs are starting to ache from how tense I’m holding my body. I make a conscious effort to relax, but the tension rachets right back up as a chill rattles me.
“Where didyoulearn that?Grey’s Anatomy?” I parrot at her.
The bus driver comes back, interrupting my train of thought. “Girls. The bad news is we have a flat and I have no way to put a donut on it. I’m also not having a lot of luck reaching dispatch about getting you ladies a new bus.” He takes off his hat and rubs his head again. “Good news is, that bystander said their boss lives just off the next exit and has offered to host you guys while I use their landline to call for help. Much as I hate driving on a flat, I don’t see much of a choice. Too dangerous to leave you ladies waiting on the side of the road for who knows how long. I’m sorry, I know you girls had plans for the beach today, but maybe he has a beach you can visit while we wait.”
He sits and starts the bus, leaving us to contemplate going to this strange place. Around me, conversations start, with questions and speculation about where we’re headed. A few of the girls make inhuman noises, startled by the noise as the flat tire grinds against the pavement.
The sound makes my hackles rise. I need to get off this bus.
We travel for another few minutes, but it feels like an eternity. At last, we take an exit, and I focus on the road, leaning my forehead against my window. I half expect there to be no glass, but of course, there is. I must have hit my head harder than I thought.
Along the road are thick, tall hedges blocking any view but the one ahead, until they finally give way to palm trees. It’s a seemingly endless private road that twists and turns, leading us closer and closer to the coast until we pull up in a half-circle driveway before a grand house. The entire bus falls silent. I pull on my sweatshirt but still fail to find the warmth I’m looking for.
The concerned bystander gets back on the bus.
“As I’m sure Kenny—” they pat the bus driver’s shoulder “—explained to you, my boss lives here. He was gracious enough to offer you a space to relax while you wait. Please gather your belongings and exit the bus. We’ll make sure that any medical needs are tended to.”For a moment, no one moves.
Before they can walk away, Tiffany shoots out of her seat. “Can I call my boyfriend from inside? I need to let him know we’re going to be late.”
They pause before turning to look at Tiffany. With a sad smile and a nod, they walk off the bus.
“So, was that a yes?” Tiffany asks, looking around as if any of us can answer. She gathers her things and is the first to get off. Slowly we all move, each of us with a bruise of some sort from today, be it physical or emotional. I’m the last of twenty to get off, and before doing so, I give the inside of the bus another glance. As I look around, I get a flash of all the seats ripped up and water-damaged. I suck in a pained breath, but then I blink, and the vision is gone.
I hoped that by stepping into the California sun, I would feel warmer, but instead I feel colder, as if I’ve walked into Alaska instead. We all line up outside the bus, and I notice that Kenny is no longer with us. The outside of the bus has no evidence of the trauma that we each bear on our skin. Echoes of metal on metal have me searching the sides for some proof of that noise—a scratch, a dent—but I can’t find it. Before I think better of it, I reach out and touch the bus to confirm, but my hand only comes away dirty.
I look at the mystery person. “Where’s the driver?” I ask before they can say anything. Their eyes flash to me, and they plaster on a serene but fake-looking smile.
I trust them a little less.
“He’s inside using the house phone to call for a replacement bus. If you would all follow me, please.” They turn and walk toward the house, and it’s only then that I take in the opulence before me.
Thehouse looks more like a castle than a home. I half expect to cross a drawbridge to get to the front door, which has a giant entryway covered in windows and ornate wrought iron that twists and turns. My gaze catches on the subtle pattern of flowers in the iron, something easily missed, but everywhere I look, I see them entwined with an image of the sun.
The front door opens before our guide gets there, as if it has a motion sensor, and we all trickle in. I feel like the number one rule of childhood—stranger danger—has been quickly forgotten in favor of this kindness we are being shown. Even if the danger isn’t overt, there’s always an element of give and take. This is an awful lot of give; I wonder what the cost will be.
As I gaze around, I wonder just how much land this estate covers. Branching out on either side of the house are impressively tall hedges, the kind used to block the view of celebrity homes, only we’re already at the end of a long private driveway, so I wonder what they hide.
My flip-flops slap against the floor, which looks like marble. I hear one of the girls whisper that the boss must be a billionaire, because not only is the house grand, but the pillars inside almost look like gold.There is rampant speculation about who the owner of the home might be.
Three dogs—pit bulls—come running over and sniff around us, nails tapping against the floor. I’ve always been a cat person, but I want to cuddle these three to my chest. The urge to sneak them bacon or some other treat is overwhelming, but then again, what puppy doesn’t deserve a treat?
Many of the girls who were shaken earlier seem relaxed and worry-free as the dogs circle. Even Marta, who I know is afraid of dogs, doesn’t step away. Instead, she reaches down to pet them, flipping her long red curls to one side. The movement exposes a nasty cut on her cheek from the accident, if the dried blood is any indicator.
The grey dog comes over to me, and I hold my hand out so it can better sniff, which earns me a lick. I smile, holding on to this normal moment, because this day has been anything but.