Authors: Ellie Rollins
Lyssa’s mouth went so dry her tongue could have cracked. She looked from the billboard to the digital clock below. It was 11:20 right now—which meant that she had less than fifteen minutes to get that bus ticket or she’d have to wait until after six to leave. She swallowed, stepping out of the way as a man with a briefcase pushed past her. The cops were sure to check the bus depot before six
“Come on,” she whispered, glancing down at Zip. “We can do this.”
She pulled off her sweatshirt and tied it around her waist; it was warm enough in the bus station that she really didn’t need it. As soon as her arms were uncovered, she felt a little bit better, like she could breathe for the first time all morning. She glanced around the bus depot, trying to figure out a plan
A line of people snaked away from the ticket counter and twisted around to the back of the station. They looked like they’d been standing there for a while: a few of the men and women were reading newspapers and magazines and there was a group of teenagers sitting cross-legged in
the middle of the floor, playing cards while they waited. Their backpacks were piled high around them
Lyssa watched one of the teenagers stand up and push the pile of backpacks up a few inches as the rest of the line shuffled forward. She’d be waiting for at least an hour if she went to the end of that line. She’d never make her bus
She needed a plan
The old man who had been singing at the entrance shuffled toward her. He was wearing an old, patched coat and a baseball cap with a logo for Golden Apples Landscaping emblazoned across the front. As he got closer, he sang louder, until Lyssa couldn’t help hearing the words to the song:
“You think you’re slick, but I know your tricks,” he muttered, continuing his strange, shuffling dance across the room. A few people making their way to the back of the line dodged out of his way, looking annoyed, but Lyssa smiled wide and sang the last line along with him:
“And I’ll get there first ’cause I’m quicker.”
The song was Lyssa’s all-time favorite, “Tricks,” by Athena. She glanced at the ticket counter again. She
would
find a way onto that bus.
As Lyssa pushed her scooter past the old man, toward the front of the ticket line, he lifted his baseball cap and bowed at the waist
“Rosebud,” he said, as though he was greeting her
Lyssa gave him a tentative smile. Okay, so the man was a little crazy—but the song was still a sign. Ignoring the line completely, Lyssa pulled her scooter right up to the ticket booth
Her mom always said she could talk anybody into doing things her way. Now was Lyssa’s chance to prove her right
“Excuse me,” Lyssa said, trying to look as innocent as possible. The woman selling tickets had patchy skin and her eyes looked tired. She had hair that had been dyed red so many times it almost looked purple
“I was hoping you might be able to help me,” Lyssa continued, winding her braid around one finger. The woman smacked her lips together.
“End of the line,” she barked. Then, glancing at the person directly behind Lyssa, she shouted, “Next.”
“Wait!” Lyssa held her hand up to keep the next person in line from darting in front of her. “You don’t understand: I need to get on the bus to Austin, Texas. It’s leaving in fifteen minutes.”
The woman in the ticket counter narrowed her tired eyes, leaning farther over the counter
“We don’t sell tickets to minors…”
“Of course not,” Lyssa said, thinking quickly. “I’m not here on my own.”
She dropped her braid and looked back over her shoulder, her eyes darting around the bus depot. The confused old man stumbled up behind her, still singing under his breath
“I know your tricks, I know, I know.”
“That’s my grandpa,” Lyssa blurted out, turning back to the ticket counter woman. “See, we’re traveling together, but he gets confused and only bought one ticket. I need to get another one fast; otherwise the bus will leave without us both.”
The ticket counter lady narrowed her eyes even more, until they were just tiny slits. Lyssa licked her lips nervously and turned back to the old man.
“Isn’t that right, Grandpa?” she asked
The old man turned around, his eyes wide
“George Washington!” he replied
Lyssa forced a laugh and turned back to the ticket counter, shrugging
“That’s Grandpa for you,” she said, trying to give the lady a winning smile. “I told you he got confused.”
Rolling her eyes, the ticket counter lady slid Lyssa a one-way ticket to Austin. Lyssa dug around in her backpack for her money. The bus ticket was $60—that only left her with $13 more. Biting down on her lower lip, Lyssa slid the money over, saying a silent prayer of thanks for all
those lawn-mowing jobs she’d done for Mrs. Patel over the last few months. Then she grabbed the strange old man’s arm and steered him away from the line
“Hey, thanks a lot,” she said when they were far enough away from the counter that the noise of the bus depot drowned out their voices. “I owe you one. Want a granola bar?”
The old man screwed up his face, like Lyssa had just offered him a dirty sock
“The goldfish don’t look for mosquitoes after midnight,” he whispered, as though he were telling her a secret.
“Um, okay,” Lyssa said, putting her granola bar back into her backpack. “What does that mean?”
“It means the winds of change are coming,” the man said. Then, tipping his hat to Lyssa, he stumbled away, still humming under his breath
The winds of change are coming.
A chill swept up Lyssa’s arms and legs as she watched the man stumble away. She
was
on the right path. She pulled her backpack onto her shoulder. Then, shoving her ticket into her pocket, she ran for her bus
L
yssa pushed her nose up against the bus window, excitement and nerves rattling around in her stomach like the last two pennies in a piggy bank. It was cool to watch the fields and trees fly past, a blur of colors and growth. Plus—hello!—the bus seats were all covered in yellow fabric. And just a few minutes earlier she’d seen an entire field of yellow flowers that she couldn’t even name. These were signs. Good things were coming.
Still, Lyssa couldn’t help thinking of her narrow escape from Washington. Would the police still be after her? Would they follow her into Oregon?
She pulled the tangles in her hair apart with her fingers,
then rebraided it, humming some of her favorite Athena lyrics under her breath to calm herself down:
You never know where your life will go. You can never tell where your dreams will take you…
“First stop, Pendleton, Oregon,” announced a scratchy voice over the bus’s PA system
Leaning back against her seat, Lyssa popped the last chunk of granola bar into her mouth. It was the second granola bar she’d had that morning, but it was already past two in the afternoon and she was starving. Even though she was stillhungry, she needed to save the rest. She only had six granola bars and $13 left and that had to get her all the way to Texas
The bus turned off the highway on to a narrow service road and then bumped into the parking lot of a rest-stop diner. The smell of waffles and french fries and bacon drifted in through the cracked-open windows, making Lyssa’s stomach grumble loudly.
“Forty-five minutes for lunch,” the driver announced
The bus jerked to a stop. Lyssa tumbled forward, smacking her head against the seat in front of her. All around the bus, belt buckles clicked open and passengers started getting to their feet. Lyssa rubbed her forehead and glanced out the window…
…coming face-to-face with a large, brown nose
Lyssa let out a strangled “yelp!” and scooted out of her
seat. The nostrils on the nose widened, pushing right up against the glass of Lyssa’s window and snorting loudly. Then the nose disappeared. Curious, Lyssa pressed up against the window and looked down
The nose belonged to a huge brown-and-black horse. It gazed up at Lyssa again, giving a disapproving toss of its head, then trotted off to the other side of the parking lot, its hooves making clip-clop noises against the concrete
Lyssa stared. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. There wasn’t a single car in the parking lot. Instead, there were horses. Chestnut-colored horses with shiny coats munched on the grass next to the highway; spotted white horses that looked like overgrown Dalmatians galloped across the parking lot. There was even a tiny white horse nudging the windows of the diner
Grabbing Zip and her backpack, Lyssa stumbled off the bus. She was pretty sure they wouldn’t let her ride around on her scooter inside the restaurant, but leaving it on the bus didn’t seem safe either. Did people steal old scooters? She hid it behind one of the large Dumpsters standing next to the restaurant
Her eyes fell on a sign just under the diner’s windows:
The Wild Horse Diner, home of Chef Louie’s secret stew, is proud to sponsor the cowgirls in Pendleton’s famous Rodeo Roundup!
Lyssa excitedly hitched her backpack higher on one shoulder. Cowgirls?
Real cowgirls?
There were cowgirls in the Texas Talent Show, of course, but they were just show cowgirls—their costumes were spotless and white, with leather fringes down the legs, and their cowboy hats were bejeweled with hearts and stars. It was cool to watch them sing and dance onstage, but Lyssa knew they’d never be able to ride a wild horse around in a rodeo or lasso a running bull.
Real cowgirls reminded Lyssa of her ninth birthday, when her mom surprised her with tickets to the Austin rodeo. They’d bought popcorn and watched the cowgirls gallop around on their beautiful horses. After the show, Ana Lee had actually taken Lyssa back to the stables to meet the cowgirls and a few of their horses. One horse—Pablo—was wilder than all the others. Not a single cowgirl could go near him, but Ana sang a few bars in her beautiful, high soprano, and before Lyssa knew it, Pablo was nuzzling her mother’s shoulder like an overgrown kitten. He even let Lyssa feed him a few carrots
Lyssa practically ran for the front doors
The diner reminded her of an old saloon. Hay and peanut shells coated the floor, and red-leather-topped stools were lined up in front of the counter. Something sizzled in the kitchen and, even though Lyssa knew it was probably bacon and sausage frying up in a pan, she couldn’t help
picturing a cowboy holding a red-hot branding iron over a bed of smoldering coals
Just ahead, a cowgirl with a face full of freckles and messy brown hair stood in the middle of a sea of cowboy hats. She put one bright blue cowboy boot up on her chair, causing the metal spurs on her heel to jingle. It was just like the rodeo! Lyssa’s heart climbed up higher inside her chest. The cowgirl twirled a lasso, then threw it across the room. It circled a bottle of ketchup at the end of the table. While the people around her clapped and cheered, the cowgirl tugged on the lasso, and the ketchup slid into her waiting hand
“Woo-hoo!” another cowgirl shouted
Seconds later an angry-looking waitress appeared. She had bleached-blond hair and earrings that dangled to her shoulders
“Daisy, can’t you just wait until I come over to take your order like a normal person?”
“Don’t think I can do that, Sal,” the cowgirl said. All around her, the rest of the cowgirls clapped and stomped. Daisy the cowgirl spun around, catching Lyssa’s eye
“Well howdy, little lady,” she said, smiling wide. Lyssa couldn’t help staring—Daisy’s two front teeth were made of shiny gold that glimmered under the bright diner lights
“Er, howdy,” Lyssa said, feeling shy. She shifted her
gaze back up to Daisy’s eyes, not wanting to be rude. “That was really cool, what you did with the ketchup.”
Daisy grinned wider. “Thanks!” She bent down so that she and Lyssa were at eye level. “You aren’t here by yourself, are you, little cowgirl?” she asked
“Um…” Lyssa swiveled her head. Several of the people from the bus were crowded around the counter, ordering cups of coffee and sandwiches to go. None of them were paying any attention to Lyssa. Daisy raised an eyebrow, and Lyssa hurriedly added. “I am, actually. I’m…a child star and there’s a production company in Austin that wants me to audition. My management arranged for me to travel down to meet them.”
It wasn’t
completely
a lie. If Lyssa’d had the guts to sing in the Texas Talent Show, it would be kind of like an audition. And Mrs. Patel was the manager at a flower shop—since Lyssa earned all of her money from mowing her lawn, a manager
had
actually paid for her bus ticket. Anyway, Daisy seemed to believe her. She leaned over, patting the chair next to her.
“Well, you’re welcome to join us for lunch if you like.”
Eat lunch with a bunch of cowgirls? Lyssa felt like her insides might explode. The cowgirls around her cheered again, and a few lifted their cups of coffee in salute
“Sure.” Lyssa slid in next to Daisy. She only had forty-
five minutes before the bus left again, but that was plenty of time
Sal hustled out of the kitchen. When she saw Lyssa, she raised an eyebrow
“New recruit?” she asked
As though to answer, Daisy whipped her cowboy hat off her head and placed it on Lyssa’s. “That’s right,” Daisy announced, winking at Lyssa. “She isn’t ready to ride the bull just yet, but for now she’s with us.”
When Lyssa tried to give Daisy her hat back, Daisy just waved her off
“There’s more where that came from,” she said. “You keep it as a souvenir, little lady.”
Lyssa pulled the cowboy hat farther down onto her head, smiling so hard she thought her face might split apart at the seams
After ordering a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and split pea soup, she listened to Daisy and the cowgirls tell stories from the rodeo. They showed Lyssa their gnarliest scars and re-created their most horrific falls. After they were done with their stories, Lyssa told them all about the protest and the Texas Talent Show
Soon her lunch came. Lyssa tried to give the waitress $6 for her sandwich and soup, but Daisy waved her money away
“This one’s on me, little cowgirl. You just eat up and enjoy.”