," the driver said pointedly."Thanks," I said, my eyes adjusting from the buglight glare of the terminal to the dark interior of the coach. I scanned ...p and down but every pair of seats had at least one taken, most by dozing older folks or wary-looking migrant workers. There was a somewhat chubby girl about my age, 23 or so, with pulled-back brown hair and a spaghetti-strap purple blouse, sitting looking out the window about halfway back. Better her than some old guy drooling on me, that was. Annabelle grabbedCharlotte's hand, Charlotte grabbed the wagon, and Bee maintained herorbit about our group.Bee also maintained her uncharacteristic reticence. I noticed itquickly -- her typically rambling patter had gone so quiet, I wonderedif she had switched sweaters with Charlotte. As my wagon drifted intoher path, I tried turning my head toward her. "Bee?" I asked. "Areyou okay?"Bee was not okay -- that was clear without her needing to say a word.She was a pale, shaken thing. I tried. More

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