Fall to Pieces - Shari J. Ryan Page 0,40

terrible at emptying his pockets after work at night, and dollar bills and loose change would show up in the dryer vent day after day. Being the oldest, I was the only one who figured out what time was best to collect the forgotten change. I stashed it away, saving it for the day I'd take a bus ride far away from that joint.

The bus station seemed closer whenever we would drive by it to take a kid to the doctor's office, but it took me a little over two hours to make it on foot. Still, I persevered.

It wasn't until I saw a bus ticket price compared to the amount of money I had that I realized I would need to take extreme measures. At that moment, nothing would get in my way of escaping the town of Montley.

I shuffled my way onto the bus that was going God knows where situating myself between a man and a woman. They were suitable enough to look like my pretend parents for a few minutes.

I got about an hour outside of Montley when the bus driver asked to see my ticket. I stared at him blankly, unsure how to respond. What was there to say?

"I get damn kids like you trying to sneak onto this bus all the time. Not on my watch, buck-o." The driver grabbed me by the back of my shirt, the scoop-neck hem strangled the front of my neck, causing me to choke out as he yanked me off the bus. "Hey!"

A sheriff turned around in response. "Help me out with this kid. He snuck on at some point over the last six stops."

The burley sheriff, slowly, dauntingly, made his way over to me. He looped his thumbs through the loops over his belt, and his mustache was so dark and thick, I couldn't see even a hint of his lips. He had eaten one too many donuts, and he was sweating through his uniform.

My stomach hurt. I knew I had gone too far. I should have stayed on foot and gone as far as I could, leaving Montley that way. I knew I would be reported and sent back to the hell house.

I had two choices. I could remain silent and sweat it out, or I could tell the sheriff exactly why I was running away. At ten years old, I didn't think being honest would lead to a good outcome, but staying silent seemed like a worse idea. It turned out; the truth set me free. Dale and Giana lost their license to foster children, and I was sent back to another group home.

The grass isn't always greener on the other side.

May arrived within ten minutes as she estimated. She must have been crashing for the night when I called her because she's in flannel pajama bottoms and a matching top. She crosses her arms over her chest, fighting off the brisk nip in the air, and runs over to us in flip-flops. "God, almighty. I don't know what in the world has gotten into her." She spots her lying in the same place she was when I made the call.

"Death can have a different effect on all of us, I guess."

"She's lost her damn mind, though. August doesn't even drink. Did she tell you that?"

"No, ma'am, she did not. We haven't talked a whole lot. I've spent a lot of time in that bar y'all were at the other night. I'm friends with the owner, and he feeds me after work. I'm not a big drinker myself. Anyway, August has been visiting each night for the last week, and I got the feeling she was going through a rough time."

"Oh, I remember you now. You were sitting a few seats away from us, right?"

"Yes, ma'am." I feel uncomfortable, and the short cough into my hand probably tells her so. "I ran into her at the funeral, too. I was acquainted with Keegan."

"Dear God. She told me she wasn't going to that funeral. I would have gone with her if I had known. She is so stubborn, Chance. She's nearly impossible. It's like she's in a little bubble and isn't considering the consequences of her actions sometimes."

I got the feeling the other night, May was likely the younger sister who didn't always think everything through. Of course, I'm sure both sisters believe they are the smarter, more responsible one of the two.

"Stress can do that to a person," I defend August. I'm not sure why