She put the pen down and looked up.
“You will help,” she said. “But there are other ways. The car can wait.”
“How long?” I asked.
“Until I’m the only senior still on the bus? Because that’s what it feels like.”
“You’re not the only one,” she said. “And the bus is safer than half those idiots behind the wheel.”
“That’s not the point,” I snapped.
“You don’t get what it’s like there.”
Her mouth tightened. “I know more than you think.”
Continue reading…
