Joplin let me sit by the window.
"Thanks," I said.
She shrugged.
"I like to stick my feet out in the aisle," she said.
She stuck them right out there, too,
as soon as she could.
Other girls settled in around us.
The driver swished the door shut.
I looked out the window
and saw my parents.
They were standing beside each other,
shading their eyes with their hands,
searching the bus windows for me.
I waved and waved.
Finally, they saw me
and waved back.
Then the bus rolled past,
and they disappeared.
I turned—I didn't want to lose them.
But they were gone.
My body slid low in my seat.
And I thought,
Why am I going to this stupid camp?
Why did Grandma Sadie send me?
Why didn't I just say no?
"Are you going to vomit?" Joplin asked.
I thought for a second she could see inside me.
I thought she knew exactly how I was feeling.
But when I turned to her,
surprised,
I realized she wasn't talking to me at all.
She was looking at the girl across the aisle.
"Me?" that girl said, pointing at herself.
She had braces and two braids.
"Yes," Joplin said. "You."
"Why would I vomit?"
the braces girl said.
Joplin shrugged.
"Last year a girl got carsick
and vomited in the aisle.
I don't want vomit on my ankles."
Braces Girl made a face.
"That is disgusting," she said.
"I'm not going to vomit on your ankles."
"That's good," Joplin said.
Braces Girl turned away from us then
and said something to the girl sitting beside her,
and they both laughed.
I felt bad for Joplin.
Because they must have been laughing about her.
But Joplin didn't seem to care.
She just yawned.
And yawned again.
"My baby brother," she said to me.
"He has an ear infection.
He screamed all night.
I couldn't sleep."
"Oh," I said.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head.
"I need to rest for a second," she said.
And just like that,
she fell asleep.
I watched out my window for a while.
Rows of brownstones changed
to bigger buildings
with signs painted on their sides.
Like BEST HOT CHICKEN IN BROOKLYN.
We s-l-o-w-l-y crossed a long bridge
crowded with cars.
Then we inched through even more traffic until,
finally,
we were zooming up an open highway.
Buildings started disappearing
and trees started appearing
everywhere.
At some point,
Joplin's head fell on my shoulder
and stayed there,
bouncing a little with the bus.
No one had ever slept on my shoulder before.
Not even Pearl.
I thought about writing Pearl a letter,
telling her that my strange new friend
was bruising my shoulder.
But I couldn't get my stationery out of my backpack
without waking Joplin.
I kept watching out the window instead,
as the world outside
got greener and greener.
