The wind sounded like rolling waves breaking against Zehra’s ears. Autumn leaves danced on the ground, creating a colorful, crunchy pathway that spilled out onto the street. Mother and daughter walked down the sidewalk as cars whizzed by them. Zehra observed a fancy SUV idling at a stoplight across the median and imagined herself inside. “Do you ever think we’ll get a car? Wasn’t it you who said a roll beats a stroll?” Her mother chuckled and replied. “I don’t recall. Way I see it –there’s nothing wrong with a stroll, especially when you didn’t know how much you needed it.” Zehra pointed at the SUV that was pulling away. “My bs detector says we should be looking at something like that –it would be good for my image... our image.” Her mother didn’t laugh this time. “Sweetie, when you find the money for that kind of car, then we’ll talk. Until then, shut your mouth and stay in a little girl’s place.” Zehra knew that was her cue to stop talking, but she breezed past the warning. “Whatever, why don’t you just be honest and say YOU broke!”

Alize huffed. “Father God, I don’t want to go to jail like this... I know this is a test, but Father God –I just don’t have the strength.” Zehra knew she struck gold and there was no way she would stop now. “Well don’t try ME and maybe he won’t test YOU.” Her mother came to a full stop and took in as much air as her lungs could withstand. “Let’s just try to get you to the bus in one piece, okay?” Her voice trailed away as she kicked off down the street, leaving a fury of flying leaves in her wake.

The bus stop was nothing more than a sign barely clinging to a wooden utility pole. Zehra and her mother arrived beside an old man who looked so frail his body could whistle if the wind hit it right. The man looked down at Zehra and snickered. She rolled her eyes at him and he went to minding his business immediately. A wide-body bus eventually meandered to the pole and came to an exhaustive stop. The filthy white bus had a green and yellow stripe across it. The doors opened as a few people shuffled off and went about their business. Zehra and her mother boarded the bus before the doors closed promptly.

The bus took off before Zehra and her mother found seating, leaving them swinging off bright yellow stanchions placed throughout the aisle. For a moment, the great effort it took to maintain balance on a swaying bus made Zehra nearly forget about the atrocity on her head. That was until she passed a group of teens that burst into laughter at the sight of her. They ducked down low and broke into hushed whispers occasionally coming up for air to snicker and lock eyes with Zehra. One boy was even callous enough to point, whoop, and holler at her head, leaving little doubt in her mind that she was the butt of their jokes.

Alize found an empty bench and ushered her daughter to the window. Zehra sat and sunk so low in her seat she hoped she’d just disappear, but her mother wouldn’t have that. “Girl, sit up straight! You don’t wanna be out here looking like the hunchback of Notre Dame!” The boys caught that last little bit and howled like a pack of hyenas. Zehra glared at her mom, hoping she would be able to connect the dots and understand her desire to remain hidden, but she did not. “It’s not a hat mom,” but her mother ignored her and stared straight ahead with that counterfeit smile.

The bus ride home was so painful; mainly, because Zehra mistakenly left her earbuds at home. So, she sat in agony as the boys made off-colored jokes about everyone’s looks, always circling back to her like a pack of vultures. She pursed her lips and frowned as she stared hopelessly out the window. Thankfully, she was wearing shades, so no one could see the tears crowding the corners of her eyes. Zehra tried to imagine herself pulling away in the cars that pulled up alongside the bus, but none of it was enough to escape this personal hell. It wasn’t until she physically stepped off the bus, that her torment came to an end.