There was a fifty dollar bill tucked between the pages of her book.
She waited at the edge of the highway where the drive came; waited for the Greyhound, refusing to look back at the house.
Her mother would be angry when they discovered she was gone, “Get your head out of the clouds, girl.” Mama always admonished.
Her father would be proud, “Don’t be afraid to chase your dreams.” Papa always told her.
The brakes hissed as the bus ground to a stop.
She walked towards the back and took a seat as the coach lumbered back onto the road.