Exit, Pursued by a Bear

“I don’t like this, Wayland. I don’t like this one bit,” I told him for the seventh time.

“I know, but we have to do this.” He patted my shoulder, then busied himself with his backpack so he didn’t have to look at the look of utter hatred on my face.

“I hate this.”

“I know, Maggie.”

“Hey, you guys ready yet?” Ruther poked his head into Wayland’s bedroom.

“We’ll be there in a minute,” I snapped.

“Okay.” Ruther left and was replaced by Dana.

“Please tell me I can wear my cute heels,” she whined.

“Tennis shoes,” Wayland corrected, fiddling with the zipper on his bag.

“Fine.” She left and was replaced by Roman.

“Maggie, are you done packing?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s your bag? I’ll take it downstairs for you.”

“It’s in my room, genius. Thanks.”

He nodded and left.

“About the plan, Maggie,” Wayland said, turning toward me. He had his hands up as if he was expecting an attack from me.

“The plan is to get our asses to Santa Barbara in one piece, I know.”

“No. We’re, um, going to split up.”

My eye started to twitch. “What do you mean, ‘split up’? Wayland, are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“It’ll be easier to travel in half than as a whole.”

“Half? Dude, there’s nine of us. We’re not cutting Corn down the middle, are we?”

“About that…”

“Jesus, you’re making me take four of ‘em, aren’t you?”

“Well…”

My hands clenched into fists.

“I just think you’ll benefit from the experience. Y’know, in case something ever happens to me,” he said. “Then, you can take charge and not feel overwhelmed.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Trust me, Maggie. You’ll be fine.”

I exhaled sharply, moving my eyes to the ceiling. “Okay, yeah, sure. I can do this. As long as I get the good children.”

“You get Roman, Travis, Corn, and Ruther.”

“What? No. Not Corn.”

“Yes, you’re taking Corn.”

“Then, gimme Jonnie instead of Ruther. At least Jonnie can keep Corn somewhat tame.”

“Alright,” he said, hoisting his backpack. “Good luck, Maggie.”

"God knows I need it."

* * * * *

“Plan A,” I said, “Greyhound bus.”

“With what money will we buy tickets?” Jonnie asked.

“Uh, we don’t need money when I can get us on with my feminine charm.”

Corn snorted.

I shot him a sideways look, and his head dropped to look at his sneakers.

“But, let’s say your feminine charm somehow doesn’t work,” Travis said. “What’ll we do then?”

“Plan B,” I said, “which is to hitchhike.”

“Can’t argue with that since that’s what Wayland told us to do in the first place.”

I ignored him and started marching toward civilization with the boobs lagging behind.

“I hate walking,” Corn said, walking right behind me.

I turned to push him away from me and said to Jonnie, “Can you please do something about him?”

“Sorry,” Jonnie said as he grabbed Corn’s backpack and pulled him back.

“Are we there yet?” Roman asked.

“Not you, Roman. I already have Corn to give me an aneurysm,” I said.

He grinned at me. “Just kidding.”

“Seriously, though,” Travis said, “are we there yet?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” I said.

I looked around us. We were on the main street in town, rightfully named Main Street. I didn’t see a bus station nearby, or, really, anything, since this was such a small town.

“Should we ask someone?” Jonnie looked at me.

“Sure, why not.”

We headed into the gas station on the corner after I tied Sparkplug up outside the door.

The man behind the cash register was old and toothless. I found out the second adjective when he smiled at us as we walked in; Jonnie and Corn started laughing when I got my trademark “What the hell…?” look on my face.

“So,” I said, “who wants to go talk to Toothless Timmy?”

“I will,” Corn volunteered, and Jonnie pushed him toward the counter.

Travis, Roman, and I pretended to browse the refrigerator section towards the back of the store while we waited for Corn to ask the man.

“Excuse me, my good sir,” I heard Corn say.

“What can I do fer ya, sonny?” the old man said.

“Well… Carl,” Corn said, probably leaning in dramatically to read the nametag on the man’s shirt, “my friends and I are on our way to a concert in, um, New York City. Could you possibly point us in the direction of a Greyhound bus station?”

“Why, sure. All you have to do is—Wait. Did you just say New York City?”

“Oh, God,” Travis muttered next to me. “I hate old people.”

“Yes, sir, I did,” Corn said, and I peeked around the Twinkie display to see what was going on.

Corn was leaning against the counter as the man went into full detail about how his daughter had moved there about twenty years ago, and he hadn’t heard from her since.

I gestured to the other three boys to start stuffing snacks and drinks into their backpacks, and they did.

When Carl was finished, he had tears in his eyes, and I rolled mine.

“That sucks” was all that Corn said before he repeated his earlier request of directions to the bus station.

Corn pranced over to us and told me that it was on the other side of town, about an hour walk.

“Alright, let’s jet,” I said.

And, that’s what we did.

* * * * *

We finally reached the bus station.

“I really hope your ‘feminine charm’ is gonna work,” Roman said, “or we gotta find a ride.”

“It’ll work,” I growled, and I sashayed over to the ticket window. “Hey.” I gave the guy behind the counter a flirtatious smile.

“Hi,” he said, unfazed.

“Um, can you maybe get me, like, five tickets to, um, Santa Barbara?” I moved Sparkplug out of the guy's line of view with my foot.

“California?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Ya.” I tried to make myself sound as dumb as Dana was.

“Okay. That’ll be two hundred forty-one dollars and twenty-five cents.”

“Um, could you, like, maybe, like, just let us on the bus?” I winked at him.

“What?”

“Y’know…” I widened my smile and squinted a little.

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.”

“I could, like, do something for you in exchange for the tickets…” I let my voice trail off so he could get the sexual innuendo.

Apparently, he didn’t, because he called security.

We were escorted off the premises.

“So much for your feminine charm,” Travis said.

I didn’t say anything, just started walking, leaving the others behind.

Roman caught up with me. “Plan B?”

"Yeah." I sighed and stuck my thumb out.

The others did so, too.

It took five minutes for someone to actually pull over.

Of course, it was a man in one of those white creeper vans. “You kids need a ride?” he asked in a creepy voice that suited him perfectly.

“Uh, yes,” I said, and Roman gave me a look that said, “Are you crazy?”

“Where you headed?” the guy asked as I shoved the boys and Sparkplug into the back of the van.

“Southern California,” I told him.

“Then, I guess I’m heading west.” He turned around in the driver’s seat to give us a smile unlike Carl’s: a toothy one.

I just nodded, terrified as he turned again to start driving. I clung to Roman’s right side, both of my hands squeezing one of his. Sparkplug lay protectively across my legs.

“Worst idea ever,” Travis whispered on my right.

“Don’t rub it in my face, Wolfe.”

“Oh, you bet I will.”

We rolled around in the back for a few hours—with no potty breaks. Finally, we stopped at a dingy motel somewhere in the middle of Tennessee.

“You kids got any money?”

“Er, no,” I said.

“That’s okay. I’ll pay for a room.” He winked at Corn, who yelped as the man went to check in.

“We’re outta here,” Travis decided, sliding the door open.

“Definitely,” I agreed, shoving the boys and Sparkplug out of the van.

We scurried through the parking lot and onto the sidewalk.

“What now, boss?” Jonnie asked.

“Find a place to sleep for the night, I guess,” I told him.

“What about there?” Corn pointed to the looming church a few blocks away.

"Good work, Cornelius," I said, patting his mop of dirty-blonde hair.

“Would they take us in?” Roman asked.

“Who would turn us away? We’re cute and adorable.” I glanced at Corn, who had a finger up his nose. “Well, the majority of us, anyway.”

A kindly priest ushered us into the little house on the church’s property when we banged on the door at one in the morning.

“Thank you, Father,” I murmured when the boys were in bed.

“No child of God will be turned away here,” he told me with a smile.

As I lay in the cot next to Roman’s, I thought about that.

A child of God. Was I really one of those?