![]() ![]() The fields spun by, lightening to gray, the faintest of gold at the tops of the trees. We’re O.K., thanks, my mother said, and sat beside her younger brother, who rested his head on her arm. Their mother would be waiting there for them. Palmer considered her, then nodded, my mother asked quickly if she could please drop the three of them off when she picked up the Yoder kids. The bus hissed up from its crouch and lumbered off. She looked at my mother as she shut the bus door, then said in her singsong voice, You got yourself a shiner there, Michelle. ![]() ![]() Palmer, the driver, was a stout lady who played the organ at church, and whose voice when she shouted at the naughty boys in the back was high like soprano singing. She let her brothers get on before her and told them to sit in the front seats. Its slowness as it pulled up was agonizing. At last it showed itself, yellow as sunrise at the end of the road. They were so far out in the country, the bus came for them first, and the ride to town was long. My mother touched her eye and winced at the pain there, then shrugged. ![]() After some time, the older brother said, Kids are going to make fun of you, your face all mashed up like that. It was bitterly cold that day and the wind was supposed to rise, but for now all was airless, waiting. ![]()
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