Melting Pot

The descriptive sketch I wrote for a contest.

 

The bus is a dirty, faded white and around half the length of its average yellow counterpart. The old engine coughs and sputters, spewing out a thick cloud of gray smog which quickly evaporates into the warm evening air. Windows, tinted a darker shade and coated in grime, line the top half of each of the vehicle’s sides. A seemingly endless Louisiana highway stretches out before it, unwinding like a fallen spool of thread into the setting sun. The bus bounces up and down to the rhythm of the worn-out road, dipping to the right or left to accommodate the occasional pothole.

Inside, four rows of torn leather seats groan uneasily under the weight of an energetic group of teenagers. Behind them lies a stack of multi-colored luggage, positioned neatly against the wall as if it were a pile of firewood, with the larger suitcases on the bottom and sleeping bags and pillows dispersed over the top. Empty bags of Doritos, used napkins, and straw and gum wrappers stick to the hard, black striped floor. The air occupying the bus smells of sour sweat and burning fuel tinged with old sunblock. An overflowing beige garbage bag has spilled a great majority of its contents beneath the seats in the first row, but the scattered, drained Icee cups and fast food boxes remain unnoticed, practically invisible.

Lukewarm droplets of water silently plummet from the broken air conditioner above the luggage and into the auburn curls of the boy propped up against the mound. He tilts back his head and lets out a soft sigh, strumming a dark acoustic guitar. His calloused fingers glide up and down the wooden fret board as smoothly and gracefully as those of an expert cloth weaver. The sweet, soothing notes dissolve into the thick air filling the bus, and blend in to the incessant chatter.

Across the aisle, one of his companions slides his fingernail underneath the flap of a small rectangular box. A new deck of cards spits out of it and into the empty space on the seat between him and another friend. The second boy reaches over, fingering the crisp stack with a slight smirk as he folds the glossy cards together and deposits them into the correct formation for a two-player game.

The girls have pushed their frizzy, unmanageable hair to the backs of their heads and held it in place with green and blue headbands cut out from ratty t-shirt sleeves. The stifling July breeze gusting through the half-opened windows sends any stray strands flying wildly. One girl grasps a book tightly in her hands, the old cloth cover wrinkling from her touch. Her hazel eyes shine feverishly as she pauses to first put down the novel and then talk animatedly to her confidante, waving her tanned hands around in synch. The pair bursts into a hysterical fit of giggles and nearly collapses onto the trash-coated floor.

In the front of the bus, a middle-aged man in a navy shirt and faded jeans takes his eyes off the road to glance into the rearview mirror at the adolescents behind him. Casually resting one hand on the steering wheel, he reaches up to push his large sunglasses on the top of his head. An endearing smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, ever-so-slightly shifting the position of the five-day stubble that sprinkles his cheeks and chin. His pale irises gleam with a fatherly sort of pride at the sight of the bus’s inhabitants.

Their faces and limbs are colored deeply with sunburn; their bodies weak from exhaustion after a hard week’s work. Yet another figure, an older girl in the first row, finds the strength to part her chapped lips and takes a deep breath. A low melody starts to rumble in her chest and makes its way through her throat and out of her mouth, suddenly attracting the attention of the others. One by one their voices raise and join in, the ups-and-downs in the different pitches and tones mixing effortlessly like the instruments of a symphony orchestra as the song goes on.

They are no longer many separate individuals but a closely-knit group--a perfectly complete being--ready to jump any hurdles life sets before them, ready to dodge any obstacles fate might decide to throw their way. They are a flawless mosaic, skillfully pieced together to form a seamless union.

They are one.

Author's Note

On the bus back from New Orleans :) EFCA Challenge 2012! Good times.