Free All That's Missing by Sarah Sullivan

help her blow out the candles on her cake.”
    â€œThank you,” Arlo said.
    â€œMy name’s Bernice, by the way.” She left space at the end of the sentence for Arlo to fill in his name. But he’d just as soon she not know anything about him, in case the police came looking later on. Wasn’t he in enough trouble as it was? No sense making it easier to find him.
    Air whooshed through the hoses on the bus as the engine turned over. Gears ground into place. Arlo glanced out the window. The security guard was talking to some lady on the sidewalk. She raised an arm and pointed toward Arlo, but he ducked before the security guard spotted him. Burrowing deeper in his seat, Arlo pulled a magazine out of the pocket on the seat in front of him. He shoved it in front of his face. All the way to the interstate, his heart raced, waiting for someone to stop the bus and order him off.
    But nothing happened. Bernice started humming as she watched the buildings buzz by.
    â€œWe’re on our way now,” she said, giving him a nod.
    â€œYes, ma’am,” Arlo said. And, for the first time in two days, the tightness in his shoulders began to ease.

Riding a bus was like being on top of the world. Compact cars looked like bugs. Bernice got out her cross-stitch and threaded a fresh needle. Arlo glanced at the words spelled out in her work.
The truth will make you free.
His toes itched. He wished he could reach inside his shoes.
    Meanwhile Bernice stitched away. “I’m making this for one of my grandbabies,” she said. “My son and his wife named her after me. I told Tyrone if they named that baby Bernice, they’d better not go calling her by any nicknames. I had an uncle who used to call me Bernie. I hated that. Speaking of names, I don’t believe you told me yours, did you?”
    Arlo stared at the magazine in his lap with the glossy photo of the former president who used to be in the movies, way back in the old days.
    â€œRonald,” he said in a quiet voice.
    â€œIs that right? I have a son named Ronald. He lives in Michigan. Don’t get to see him as often as I’d like.”
    She was so nice. It was terrible lying to her, but the less she knew, the better it was for both of them. Arlo decided to change the subject before she asked any really difficult questions.
    â€œHow many children do you have?”
    â€œSix living. I lost two. Olive when she was a baby and Lonnie when he was twelve.”
    Arlo’s heart skipped. “I’m sorry,” he said. He thought about Poppo and Frankie and the way Poppo was always traveling back to the days when Frankie was still alive.
    â€œThe Lord works in mysterious ways,” Bernice said. “You got to take the bad with the good, like they tell you in church. Life is full of sweet and sad.”
    â€œMy dad died.” Arlo had no idea what made him say that. Usually he didn’t talk about his parents in front of strangers.
    Bernice put down her needlework. She stared at the seatback in front of her, though her eyes seemed miles away. “It’s hard to see the reason in a thing like that,” she said. “A boy needs a father. How old were you when you lost him, if you don’t mind my asking?”
    â€œTwo,” Arlo said. “I don’t really remember him.”
Or my mom, either,
he wanted to add. But it was too late to say anything about his mother, not after telling Bernice that story he’d concocted about his mom being called back to work.
    â€œYou got a lot of grit, Ronald. I can see that. I’ll bet your daddy’s looking down right now and feeling proud.”
    If Wake Jones happened to be looking down right now, Arlo was sure he wasn’t feeling proud. He hoped his dad could understand why Arlo needed to lie.
I promise,
he whispered in his head.
I’ll do better from here on out.
He felt a little spark coming back at him.
    â€œYou’re welcome to read