turned back to Jessa. “I know you’re confused, I really, really do. But let me tell you something for sure. You’re not going to find any of your answers in Carissa’s little instructions. In case you hadn’t noticed, they don’t seem to be doing much good.”
#7: blank
“ Actually , I love to eat hot dogs with mustard,” Mr. Campbell announced, standing up in his bus seat, the heavy emphasis on the actually . A few groans from Williams Peak students. A few whistles.
“ But I really love ketchup on my hot dogs.” Devon caught on to the game right away, calling out from his seat up front.
“ Certainly , you would also eat them with relish?” Tim said, turning around in his seat, holding onto the back with both hands.
Jessa grinned. The ABC game. The point of the game was to make a conversation that took you as far into the alphabet as possible using each letter of the alphabet to start the next sentence.
“Do you think you guys could not play this stupid game?” Lizzie spoke up, her eyes never leaving the book in her lap.
“Even though you think it’s stupid,” Blake called out, “the rest of us are bored and this helps!”
“Forget it,” Lizzie countered.
“God only knows,” continued Mr. Campbell, “that there’s no such thing as boredom, only boring people.”
A few more whistles as Tyler high-fived Mr. Campbell. Blake turned, bowed, and said, “Honestly, touché, Campbell.”
“I didn’t mean it personally, of course.” Mr. Campbell’s eyes sparkled.
“Just about me as a person is all,” Blake shot back.
“What are they doing?” Madison, flipping through a Vogue , squinted out from her seat a few rows ahead of Jessa.
“Some drama thing,” Cheyla said, sniffing, her face buried in her BlackBerry, her thumbs whirling. Jessa had never seen anyone text as fast as Cheyla.
“They’re doing the alphabet,” Jamal said, then called out. “Klondike bars are my personal favorite, not hot dogs!”
Williams Peak cheered, and Jamal’s face broke into a bright smile.
They narrowly avoided the dreaded X as the bus pulled to a stop in a small parking lot in the town of Bologna, where they would eat lunch before heading the rest of the way to Venice. Everyone stood, stretched, pressed fingertips to the bus windows, pulled backpacks from the overhead storage.
The energy of the alphabet game dwindled, and the whole bus seemed to sag a bit, everyone looking tired, like they were starting to feel the trip in their bones. Jessa felt like her body’s seams were pulling slightly, splitting tiny threads around her joints, the skin around her eyes dry and tight. She sniffed, hoping she wasn’t getting a cold. Tipping one of the vitamin packs her mom sent with her into a water bottle, she watched the now-yellow liquid fizz and shift, then switched off her iPod, cutting off the strains of “Sun and Moon” from Miss Saigon in mid-wail.
Francesca clapped her hands at the front of the bus. “Today is National Picnic Day, Easter Monday, so Bologna’s market will be closed. But we have almost two hours here. Meet your teachers outside.” She went down the steps and off the bus. Francesca seemed agitated this morning, robotic, and Jessa could hear strain in the clipped edges of her voice.
Jessa pulled her bag over her shoulder, slipped on a pair of sunglasses, and made her way down the bus aisle. She tucked Carissa’s Reason #7 into her pocket. She hadn’t opened it last night, Ms. Jackson’s warning ringing in her ears as she fell asleep.
“What are you drinking? Pee?” Tyler waited for her outside the bus.
“Yeah. I’m drinking pee. It’s vitamins.”
“It looks like pee.” Tyler headed with her toward the tree where the other students from their group were waiting. “Are you hungry?”
“Sure.”
Dylan Thomas fell into step beside him. “What…?”
“It’s vitamins,” Jessa told him, tucking the bottle into her bag. “And your group is over there.”
“OK,
#7: blank
“ Actually , I love to eat hot dogs with mustard,” Mr. Campbell announced, standing up in his bus seat, the heavy emphasis on the actually . A few groans from Williams Peak students. A few whistles.
“ But I really love ketchup on my hot dogs.” Devon caught on to the game right away, calling out from his seat up front.
“ Certainly , you would also eat them with relish?” Tim said, turning around in his seat, holding onto the back with both hands.
Jessa grinned. The ABC game. The point of the game was to make a conversation that took you as far into the alphabet as possible using each letter of the alphabet to start the next sentence.
“Do you think you guys could not play this stupid game?” Lizzie spoke up, her eyes never leaving the book in her lap.
“Even though you think it’s stupid,” Blake called out, “the rest of us are bored and this helps!”
“Forget it,” Lizzie countered.
“God only knows,” continued Mr. Campbell, “that there’s no such thing as boredom, only boring people.”
A few more whistles as Tyler high-fived Mr. Campbell. Blake turned, bowed, and said, “Honestly, touché, Campbell.”
“I didn’t mean it personally, of course.” Mr. Campbell’s eyes sparkled.
“Just about me as a person is all,” Blake shot back.
“What are they doing?” Madison, flipping through a Vogue , squinted out from her seat a few rows ahead of Jessa.
“Some drama thing,” Cheyla said, sniffing, her face buried in her BlackBerry, her thumbs whirling. Jessa had never seen anyone text as fast as Cheyla.
“They’re doing the alphabet,” Jamal said, then called out. “Klondike bars are my personal favorite, not hot dogs!”
Williams Peak cheered, and Jamal’s face broke into a bright smile.
They narrowly avoided the dreaded X as the bus pulled to a stop in a small parking lot in the town of Bologna, where they would eat lunch before heading the rest of the way to Venice. Everyone stood, stretched, pressed fingertips to the bus windows, pulled backpacks from the overhead storage.
The energy of the alphabet game dwindled, and the whole bus seemed to sag a bit, everyone looking tired, like they were starting to feel the trip in their bones. Jessa felt like her body’s seams were pulling slightly, splitting tiny threads around her joints, the skin around her eyes dry and tight. She sniffed, hoping she wasn’t getting a cold. Tipping one of the vitamin packs her mom sent with her into a water bottle, she watched the now-yellow liquid fizz and shift, then switched off her iPod, cutting off the strains of “Sun and Moon” from Miss Saigon in mid-wail.
Francesca clapped her hands at the front of the bus. “Today is National Picnic Day, Easter Monday, so Bologna’s market will be closed. But we have almost two hours here. Meet your teachers outside.” She went down the steps and off the bus. Francesca seemed agitated this morning, robotic, and Jessa could hear strain in the clipped edges of her voice.
Jessa pulled her bag over her shoulder, slipped on a pair of sunglasses, and made her way down the bus aisle. She tucked Carissa’s Reason #7 into her pocket. She hadn’t opened it last night, Ms. Jackson’s warning ringing in her ears as she fell asleep.
“What are you drinking? Pee?” Tyler waited for her outside the bus.
“Yeah. I’m drinking pee. It’s vitamins.”
“It looks like pee.” Tyler headed with her toward the tree where the other students from their group were waiting. “Are you hungry?”
“Sure.”
Dylan Thomas fell into step beside him. “What…?”
“It’s vitamins,” Jessa told him, tucking the bottle into her bag. “And your group is over there.”
“OK,
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