The Great Gilly Hopkins

“California where?” He glanced up now, looking at her through half-open lids.

“Uh—San Francisco. San Francisco, California.”

“One-way or round trip.”

Whatever happened to Lady Cool? “One—one way.”

He punched some buttons and a ticket magically emerged. “One thirty-six sixty including tax.”

She had it. She had enough. With trembling hands, she took the wad of bills from her pocket and began to count it out.

The man watched lazily. “Your mother know where you are, kid?”

Come on, Gilly. You can’t fall apart now. She pulled herself straight and directed into his sleepy eyes the look she usually reserved for teachers and principals. “I’m going to see my mother. She lives in San Francisco.”

“OK,” he said, taking her money and recounting it before he handed her the ticket. “Bus leaves at eight thirty.”

“Eight thirty?”

“Yeah. Want to check your bag?”

“It’s only four-thirty now.”

“That’s right.”

“That’s four hours from now.”

“Right again.”

“But I want to leave as soon as I can.”

“Look, kid, you came in here and asked me for a ticket. I gave you one on the next bus.” He sighed. “OK,” he said and consulted his book. “You can take the five o’clock into Washington and catch a six twenty-two out of there.” He stuck out his hand. “I’ll have to fix you another ticket.”

She gave it back.

“It’ll take me a while,” he said. “I gotta check the routing.” He nodded to the seats across the waiting room. “Just sit down over there. I’ll call you.”

She hesitated, then reluctantly obeyed. She didn’t like the idea of leaving both the money and the ticket there, but she was afraid he’d ask more questions if she protested.

He was a long time at it. He was on the phone a while, talking in a muffled voice. Then he was poring through his books. Once he got up and went back into the baggage room and stayed away for several minutes.

It was almost four forty-five. If he didn’t hurry, she might miss the five o’clock bus. She got up and got a drink from the water cooler. The water was warm, and somebody had dropped a piece of gum on the drain. She went back to the red plastic seat still thirsty.

The clock said four forty-eight when the clerk came back and sat down without even looking her way.

“My ticket?”

But just then a man and woman came in, and the clerk got busy with them. It wasn’t fair. She’d been there waiting since four thirty. Gilly stood up and started for the counter. She didn’t even see the policeman until she felt his hand on her arm.

Gilly snatched her arm back as she looked to see who had touched her.

“Where you headed, little girl?” He spoke quietly as though not to disturb anyone.

“To see my mother,” said Gilly tightly. Oh, god, make him go away.

“All the way to San Francisco by yourself?” She knew then the clerk had called him. Damn!

“Yes.”