whatever we did.” He glanced at the square, arms wrapped around himself and shivering. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. You’ll go back when the sun comes up.”
Still the man said nothing, and I looked at his bare feet.
Over the noise came an aggressive, “Hey! You!”
My breath hissed in. Robbie turned to look, and even the man seemed alarmed.
“We need a cab,” my brother said, grabbing my arm and pushing the man forward.
I twisted out of his grip and headed the other way. “We won’t get a cab five blocks from here. We need a bus.” Robbie stared blankly at me, and I yelled in exasperation, “The main depot is just over there! They can’t close it off. Come on!”
“Stop!” a man’s voice shouted, and we bolted. Well, Robbie and I bolted. The guy between us was kind of shoved along.
We dodged around the people with little kids already leaving, headed for the bus stop. It took up an entire block length, buses leaving from downtown for all corners of Cincy and the Hollows across the river. No one seemed to notice the small man’s feet were bare or that Robbie was drastically underdressed. Song and laughter were rampant.
“There,” Robbie panted, pointing to a bus just leaving for Norwood.
“Wait! Wait for us!” I yelled, waving, and the driver stopped.
The door opened and we piled in, my boots slipping on the slick rubber. Robbie had shoved the man up the stairs ahead of me, falling back when the driver had a hissy about the fare. I stood a step down and fumed while Robbie fished around in his wallet. Finally he was out of my way, and I ran my bus pass through the machine.
“Hey,” the driver said, nodding to the back of the otherwise empty bus. “If he blows chunks, I’m fining you. I got your bus pass number, missy. Don’t think I won’t.”
My heart seemed to lodge in my throat. Robbie and I both turned. The man was sitting alone beside a center pole, clutching it with both hands as the bus jerked into motion. His bare feet looked odd against the dirty, slush-coated rubber, and his knees were spread wide for balance to show his bare calves.
“Uh,” Robbie said, making motions for me to move back. “He’s okay.”
“He’d better be,” the driver grumbled, watching us in the big mirror.
Every block put us farther from the square, closer to home. “Please,” I said, trying not to look desperate. “We’re just trying to help him get home. It’s the solstice.”
The driver’s hard expression softened. He took one hand off the wheel to rummage out of sight beside him. With a soft plastic rustle, he handed me a shopping bag. “Here,” he said. “If he throws up, have him do it in there.”
My breath slipped from me in relief. “Thank you.”
Shoving the bag into a pocket, I exchanged a worried look with Robbie. Together we turned to the back of the bus. Pace slow, we cautiously approached the man as the city lights grew dim and the bus lights more obvious. Thankfully we were the only people on it, probably due to our destination being what was traditionally a human neighborhood, and they left the streets to us Inderlanders on the solstice.
The man’s eyes darted between us as Robbie and I sat down facing him. I licked my lips and scooted closer to my brother. He was cold, shivering, but I didn’t think he was going to ask for his coat back. “Robbie, I’m scared,” I whispered, and the small man blinked.
Robbie took his mittens off and gripped my hand. “It’s okay.” His inhale was slow, and then louder, he said, “Excuse me, sir?”
The man held up a hand as if asking for a moment. “My apologies,” he said breathily. “What year might this be?”
My brother glanced at me, and I blurted, “It’s nineteen ninety-nine. It’s the solstice.”
The man’s vivid blue eyes darted to the buildings, now more of a skyline since we weren’t right among them anymore. He had beautiful, beautiful blue eyes, and long lashes I would have given a bra size
Still the man said nothing, and I looked at his bare feet.
Over the noise came an aggressive, “Hey! You!”
My breath hissed in. Robbie turned to look, and even the man seemed alarmed.
“We need a cab,” my brother said, grabbing my arm and pushing the man forward.
I twisted out of his grip and headed the other way. “We won’t get a cab five blocks from here. We need a bus.” Robbie stared blankly at me, and I yelled in exasperation, “The main depot is just over there! They can’t close it off. Come on!”
“Stop!” a man’s voice shouted, and we bolted. Well, Robbie and I bolted. The guy between us was kind of shoved along.
We dodged around the people with little kids already leaving, headed for the bus stop. It took up an entire block length, buses leaving from downtown for all corners of Cincy and the Hollows across the river. No one seemed to notice the small man’s feet were bare or that Robbie was drastically underdressed. Song and laughter were rampant.
“There,” Robbie panted, pointing to a bus just leaving for Norwood.
“Wait! Wait for us!” I yelled, waving, and the driver stopped.
The door opened and we piled in, my boots slipping on the slick rubber. Robbie had shoved the man up the stairs ahead of me, falling back when the driver had a hissy about the fare. I stood a step down and fumed while Robbie fished around in his wallet. Finally he was out of my way, and I ran my bus pass through the machine.
“Hey,” the driver said, nodding to the back of the otherwise empty bus. “If he blows chunks, I’m fining you. I got your bus pass number, missy. Don’t think I won’t.”
My heart seemed to lodge in my throat. Robbie and I both turned. The man was sitting alone beside a center pole, clutching it with both hands as the bus jerked into motion. His bare feet looked odd against the dirty, slush-coated rubber, and his knees were spread wide for balance to show his bare calves.
“Uh,” Robbie said, making motions for me to move back. “He’s okay.”
“He’d better be,” the driver grumbled, watching us in the big mirror.
Every block put us farther from the square, closer to home. “Please,” I said, trying not to look desperate. “We’re just trying to help him get home. It’s the solstice.”
The driver’s hard expression softened. He took one hand off the wheel to rummage out of sight beside him. With a soft plastic rustle, he handed me a shopping bag. “Here,” he said. “If he throws up, have him do it in there.”
My breath slipped from me in relief. “Thank you.”
Shoving the bag into a pocket, I exchanged a worried look with Robbie. Together we turned to the back of the bus. Pace slow, we cautiously approached the man as the city lights grew dim and the bus lights more obvious. Thankfully we were the only people on it, probably due to our destination being what was traditionally a human neighborhood, and they left the streets to us Inderlanders on the solstice.
The man’s eyes darted between us as Robbie and I sat down facing him. I licked my lips and scooted closer to my brother. He was cold, shivering, but I didn’t think he was going to ask for his coat back. “Robbie, I’m scared,” I whispered, and the small man blinked.
Robbie took his mittens off and gripped my hand. “It’s okay.” His inhale was slow, and then louder, he said, “Excuse me, sir?”
The man held up a hand as if asking for a moment. “My apologies,” he said breathily. “What year might this be?”
My brother glanced at me, and I blurted, “It’s nineteen ninety-nine. It’s the solstice.”
The man’s vivid blue eyes darted to the buildings, now more of a skyline since we weren’t right among them anymore. He had beautiful, beautiful blue eyes, and long lashes I would have given a bra size
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