Lynn Lopez

The Chase

Laney stepped from the bus, shoulders square, chin jutting defiantly. Jeers burned her ears as the bus whooshed into motion. She marched forward until the bus was out of sight then, drug her feet rhythmically, kicking bits of gravel while her shoulders rose and fell as if conducting a concert punctuated by gasping sobs. The sobs subsided to sniffles as she crested the rise where woods gave way to a swath of dark earth Pawpaw cleared when he was young to harvest lumber for their home, and grow crops.