TWO
The bus is braking when you step out of the bathroom, and you have to steady yourself against the wall to keep from lurching forward into the seat of an Asian American kid in an all-white tracksuit who immediately gives you a death stare.
“Watch it, NARP,” he mutters, and then returns to squeezing a tennis ball so hard that his knuckles could cut glass.
You don’t know whatNARPmeans—though, really, how could it be good?—so you turn away and look toward the front of the bus, trying to catch a glimpse of the person you expect to be there. But all you see is the view out the windshield and what looks like the last truck stop at the edge of human civilization. It’s an orange box of a building with diesel pumps and a hand-painted sign that saysFERG’S SMOKED FISH.
You glance at the seats up front, but you don’t find her there either. Only a ruggedly handsome man in a red snapback, who is slowly getting to his feet. You know from the prep materials that his name is Silas and that he’s some kind of therapy-nature guide. There was another guide with him in the photos, a short muscular woman with red hair, but you look around and you can’t find her anywhere. Meanwhile, Silas fishes something out of the pocket of his vest. It’s a palm-size rectangle, and when he removes theplastic case, you can see it’s a cassette tape. One he promptly feeds into the bus’s ancient stereo system.
He doesn’t look old enough for cassettes, which means it’s either his parents’ or he got it just because this bus has a tape deck. Either way, after a long, high-frequency hiss, out come the first few notes of a song.
And unfortunately, it’s a song that you recognize.
You know it from a radio station that your dad liked to listen to at full volume on the way to your therapy appointments. It’s called “Country Roads,” and it’s by a guy named John Denver, who looks, you remember, like a friendly shop teacher in spectacles.
Everyone on the bus is silent, holding out for some kind of explanation. And when the chorus kicks in and shop-teacher John starts yelling about “mountain mamas,” Silas starts walking slowly down the aisle of the bus, shaggy brown hair spilling out of his backward hat. You sit back down and watch him. He is tan and has a chipped front tooth, which somehow makes him even more masculine and good-looking. And before anyone can ask him what this has to do with therapy, he doubles down and starts to sing along in an enthusiastic and totally off-key voice.
“Take me home! To the plaaaaaaaaace I belong!”
He’s not dancing, thankfully, but he’s looking at each of you directly in the eye, daring you to say something about all of it. When you don’t, he motions to the bus driver, who gets up and turns down the music.
“Adventurers!” he shouts.
Blank stares all around.
“Who among you… would like me to turn off this song?”
Five hands shoot up, including your own. That’s how you know how many of you there are.
“I will consider it!” he says, his eyes scanning the seats. “But first I want reasons.”
It takes a second for everyone to weigh the cost-benefit of stopping whatever this is versus speaking publicly. Finally, Troy stands up behind you and cups his hands over his mouth.
“THIS SONG IS NOT GOOD,” he says.
This gets a few laughs.
“That’s subjective, brother,” says Silas.
“No, it’s not,” mumbles this girl a few rows in front of you who’s practically burrowing inside her lavender hoodie.
“Okay, Fran, okay. What else you got?” says Silas.
At this, Fran-the-hoodie-girl goes silent. There’s another spell of quiet. Only a few seconds probably, but anxiety tends to stretch uncomfortable moments like taffy. Then another girl, the one you couldn’t see before, stands and speaks.
“I don’t like watching you listen to it,” she says.
And there, finally, is the voice again.
It’s low and a little monotone, with a high note at the end of the sentence that sounds like she’s asking a question even when she’s not.
“Aha! Now we’re getting somewhere!” says Silas. “Why not?”
To this, the girl says something that you don’t hear, probably because your heart is now pounding in your temples. When she’s done speaking, though, Silas smiles and turns back to the group.
“Did everybody hear Diana?” he says.
You all shake your heads.
