Mama lets me ride the bus alone because I’m responsible and I don’t do nonsense. The boy getting on here at the trailer park is older than me, a teenager maybe. Slumped with long yellow hair like baby chick fluff blown over his pale blue eyes. Hands stuffed in his jean jacket pockets. He doesn’t bring them out to pay his fare. He speaks to the driver so low I can’t hear. But riders up front, adults, are frowning. The