Chapter III

HERE'S THE THING: I DIDN'Thave big dreams. No plans for college, no plans to move away from Coldwell. Not like Sam, who grew like a tree, always reaching higher and higher, hoping to catch the sun. I would have probably married Danny. Popped out a couple of kids. It would have been a small life. But it would have mattered. I still matter, don't I?

On the bus, every day, I shrank. Little by little until it was unbearable. The desperation. The longing. I think that was the purpose. Actually, I am nearly positive. Because the moment I felt like nothing, something happened.

The second day, I lay crumpled in one of the seats. "It will be all right," I told myself over and over again. I was cold and shaking, my teeth painfully chattering. "Mom will realize you're not where you're supposed to be. She'll look for you. It will take her an hour, maybe two, tops." I dug my hands into my pockets. I usually kept my cell phone there, but it was gone. Rain tap-danced on the roof. Dogs howled off in the distance.

"Mom will call you," I told myself. "When you don't answer, she'll sound the alarm. The police will get involved. Dad will return to shore. Danny will lead the charge."

Have faith.

Keep the faith.

They'll find you. All you have to do is listen. In a little while, you'll hear them calling your name. You'll answer back.

So, I waited. I waited until the light around the hatch faded and the sweat on my brow dried and cooled. I picked underneath my fingernails, where there were little balled-up pieces of skin. Evidence. Had I scratched my attacker? I gathered the skin and put it in my pocket. When I was found, I would present it to the police.

I slept lightly and woke with a start. Click. Click. Click. Something was on top of the bus. Animals. A whole bunch. But just in case, I uncurled my body and went back to the hatch. My arms were stiff and slow as I lifted the square metal door. I stuck my fingers out again, tentatively searching.

"Hello?" I called gently. A wet nose brushed the tip of my thumb, and then there was a scrape of teeth against it. Involuntarily my arm withdrew, but I wasn't fast enough. The hatch collapsed on top of my knuckles. I howled in pain. Whatever was on the roof turned tail and skittered off the bus. I returned to my corner, sniffling and sucking on my bruised knuckles.

I slept again and awoke to an aching bladder. It was still night. I paced up and down the aisle of the bus. "C'mon, I have to take a piss." Finally, I couldn't hold it anymore. I squatted over the stairs and let myself go. Humiliated tears burned the backs of my eyes.

After, I retreated to the back of the bus, far away from the stairs and my filth. I stayed awake this time, eyes trained on the hatch. I blinked when the sun started to fill in the outline again. Another day had begun. And I was still stuck in the dark.

On the third day, when the light around the hatch was dimming, I heard a thump. And then another. The rhythmic, slow heavy tread of human footsteps.

I was out of my corner in an instant, dragging my body down the aisle of the bus. I climbed onto the seats below the hatch and screamed. The footsteps stopped. I stilled. Metal scraped against metal, and then there was a click. The hatch opened. A person stared down at me, their face covered with a red bandana, their body limned in light. The person had a flashlight and shined it in my face. It stung. I scurried into a seat and shielded my eyes.

"What's your name?" His voice was thick and deep and his skin was white, the color of sheep's fleece. Dogs crowded at his heels. German shepherds that stuck their noses in the hatch and whimpered.

"El… Ellie." I shook.

He made a sound. Something dropped into the aisle. He closed the hatch before I could even blink. "No," I moaned. I pounded on the hatch, pain shooting down my arms. "My name is Elizabeth Black." I knew he was still up there, listening. The toes of his boots blotted out the light. I could hear the click of the dogs' claws. "My name is Elizabeth Black. Please, my parents will give you anything." I went quiet, waiting. Nothing. "What do you want? You son of a bitch!" I lashed out. He stepped back off the hatch. "No, I didn't mean that. Whatever you want, please." The thump of his boots grew softer in retreat. The dogs went with him. "Please," I said again and again.

I sank back down, huddled in the dark. I landed on something. It was soft and spongy. I picked it up. Brought my nose to it. Clean, slightly sweet. Bread. I tore into the loaf, jamming fistfuls of it in my mouth.

Then I remembered two things had dropped. I felt along the floor under the seats until I found a plastic bottle of water. I took a long, deep drink. My stomach hurt. I'd eaten too quickly, and now the bread was like a rock in my gut. After I finished, I realized the bread and water could be poisoned. The man could have slipped the same drug he had injected me with into the food. Maybe I should throw it up. But the damage was already done. And slipping back into that dark slumber where everything was forgotten didn't sound that bad. I wanted to forget.

I took the remaining bread and water to the back of the bus and steeled myself for another night. My head fell back and rested on the old vinyl. My hands fisted at my sides. I imagined my family at home. Mostly my mom. When I was still young enough to curl in her lap, the sun streaming through the window. It's painful to think of that now. Back when love felt good.

Every few days, the man came, wearing his red bandana. He'd open the hatch and stare down at me. He always asked the same question: "What is your name?"

I always gave the same answer: "My name is Elizabeth Black." And then I would beg, consumed with panic. Please. Let me out. I'll give you whatever you want. Anything.

He'd throw me more bread and water, and I would scurry to collect it, a dog diving for scraps under the dinner table. I saved the bread and water and rationed them, tucking them both under the seat at the back of the bus where I slept. I allowed myself a few sips a day, and when it rained, I gathered water from the hatch by cupping my hands and drank until I was full. Sometimes the bread would mold. I could smell it. I ate it anyway. And the loneliness… I thought I might die from it. It burrowed under my skin and fed on my blood and bones like a parasite.

When the the man returned, I refused to answer him. "What is your name?" he asked.

I kept silent, tucking my chin into my chest and refusing to move from the driver's seat. He slammed the hatch shut and locked it up. He didn't leave me any bread or water. A punishment for my silence.

The man didn't come for five days. It was the longest stretch I'd gone without seeing him. My bread and water ran out. No rain came. Hunger and thirst gnawed, and I pulled down the windows on the bus. Sucking moist dirt through my teeth, searching for a single drop of water until I choked. I ate worms, too. Their bodies squirming and falling still as my incisors cut them in two.

It wasn't the worst thing I did on that bus.

Here's what I learned about the human body: It is hardwired to live. No matter how much you will your heart to cease its gentle beating, it will endure. Instinct kicks in, driving you to extremes—like feeling along your thigh, your arm, thinking of ways to make your appendages bleed, so that you can experience the sensation of wetness on your tongue.

But then… then I stopped thinking of my family. I stopped craving food. I stopped dreaming. I don't think I knew how to anymore. More days slipped by.

I lay down on the bench seat at the back of the bus, sure I wouldn't get up again. It was time to give up. Give in. I'd reached my lowest point. My eyes fluttered closed, ready for it. For death, cruel and glorious and sweet.

Footsteps. The hatch opened. I couldn't move. I was too weak. Light flooded the cavernous space. The man's shadow stretched the length of the school bus aisle until it almost, almost touched me.

"What is your name?" he called down, a finality to his words. If I did not answer, he would not return. The dogs sniffed at the opening.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words got stuck in my throat. What's my name? What's my name? I couldn't remember. Did I even exist anymore? I squeezed my hand into a trembling fist. My bruised knuckles sent a shock wave of pain through me. Yes, I was still there. Still alive. Barely.

"What is your name, girl?" he asked. Girl? Yes, I was a girl. I was a girl who loved a boy. What was the boy's name? My fingers skimmed the scratches in the vinyl. I had etched my name there once. But it was jumbled up. Name, name, name. The word beat like a drum in my head. But nothing followed. I spiraled into darkness.

The man moved, and the hatch closed halfway. He hadn't thrown me any food. I tried to scream, but it came out as a grunt. It was all I could manage. The hatch opened back up, the best gift.

"Tell me your name, girl." He crouched at the edge of the opening. His boots sent specks of dirt fluttering down, a show of glitter suspended in the sunlight. One of the dogs lay beside him and sighed.

I managed to slip from the bench seat. I crawled down the aisle. The grating dug into my hands. The man was patient. I stopped below him, tipping my chin to the light. "I don't know."

"Don't know what?" New words. He had never said so much before.

Please don't go away. My limbs shook, and so did my voice. "My name. I don't remember it."

The man stood. I thought he was going to close the hatch. I resigned myself to a slow death on the bus. I would die on this grating. I was too weak to move back to my safe spot. I was ready. Let my soul rise above my body. In the distance, I heard the phantom voice of my mom calling. In my thoughts, I answered back. I'm coming. Won't be long now before I am home.

But he didn't leave.

He lay down, dipping the upper half of his body into the bus. He reached for me. "Take my hand."

My eyes were wet with tears. I reached back. My hand closed around his wrist. He pulled me up into the daylight, nearly yanking my arm out of its socket. The sun blinded me. Even though I couldn't remember my own name, or the name of the boy I loved, I remembered the name of the feeling sweeping through me. Joy. At last.