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various stops, but I didn't take notice. I was vaguely aware that someone sat down next to me after one stop, but I curled up and fell back asleep. When I opened my eyes again, whoever it had been was gone. It wasn't until an hour or so later, when I was fully awake and moving around in my seat that I realized so was my purse. The shock of it put electric sparks in the air. I screamed so loud, the bus driver hit the brakes and pulled off for a moment.

"What is it? What's wrong back there?" he called. Everyone on the bus was looking my way.

"I can't find my purse with all my money in it," I wailed. It had been right at my feet and I had Cary's fifty dollars in it, the money that was supposed to get me home.

Someone laughed. Most people shook their heads. The bus driver snorted as if to say, "Is that all?" and started away. A small black woman with kind eyes sitting two rows down smiled at me. "You ain't much of a traveler, are you, honey?"

"No ma'am."

"You can't take your eyes off valuable things when you travel, honey. I wear my purse under my dress," she said. She shook her head in pity and turned away.

I sat there stunned and angry. How could someone be so cruel? Another voice inside me asked, "How could you be so stupid?" By now I should have known to trust no one, to depend on no one, to believe in no one. "Expect nothing and you'll never be disappointed," the little voice continued.

It was morning when we reached Richmond. I stepped off the bus, still dazed from the trip and from being robbed. I found my way through the depot and could only look longingly back at the ticket counter where I might have been able to purchase a ticket to Sewell. Now, I had to find my way to the right highway and hitchhike.

I was hungry, and even more so when I passed counters where people sat enjoying their breakfast. My stomach churned as the aromas of fresh rolls, bacon and eggs, coffee, and Danish pastries visited my nostrils. I was tempted to finish a chunk of discarded white bread I spotted on a bus depot bench, but the birds got there before me.

I hurried on, getting directions from a gentleman in a gray suit who looked as if he were on the way to work. He was in such a rush he continued to walk as he shouted back the route I should take. I followed him like a fish on a hook. I listened to his directions and t

hen shouted my thanks.

I walked along the street, my head down, my limbs still aching from the cramped position I had been in most of the night. At least it wasn't raining. In fact it looked as if it was going to be a nice day. Some time later I reached a turn in the road and a sign indicating the direction to Sewell. Cars flew by with the drivers glancing at me and my stuck-out thumb, but none so much as slowed down. Discouraged, I walked rather than just stand there and wait for another vehicle. Standing and waiting only reminded me how hungry and tired I was. Every time I heard a car, I spun around and jerked my thumb in the air, again with no success. One woman driving by glared at me with such disapproval I thought she might stop her car and get out and lecture me.

There was a lull, then another stream of vehicles. This time a light brown van with dents all over it slowed and pulled up just a few feet ahead of me. I hurried to catch up. When I looked into the van, I saw a man with a rainbow-colored headband. He had a straggly brown beard and wore dark sunglasses. An earring dangled from his right ear and he had a necklace made of what looked like bullet shells. His hair was dirty brown and long, but it looked as if he had either chopped it away from his ears himself or had an amateur do it. He wore a faded gray sweat suit.

"Where you headed?" he asked.

"Sewell."

"I'm not going there, but I'm going nearby," he said. I thought for a second. The closer I got, the better it would be, I concluded.

"Thank you," I said and opened the door, but to my chagrin, there was no passenger seat.

"You'll have to crawl in back. Someone stole the seat last night," he explained.

"Stole your seat?"

"These seats are in demand and they're expensive. They sell them to chop shops," he said. "If you're coming along, get in. I got to make

Jacksonville before nightfall."

I hesitated. No one else had stopped for me and I was tired. I decided to go so I stepped into the van and then crouched to go into the rear. There was a mattress with a ragged sheet placed sloppily over it, a pillow with no pillow case, and a thin, tattered wool blanket. Beside that was a small Sterno stove, some cans of food, packages of bread, cookies, jars of peanut butter, jelly, and jam. There was a pile of clothes to the right and two cartons filled with magazines.

He leaned over to close the door of the van.

"Just find a spot," he said. "You can sit on the bed."

He pulled away quickly and I nearly fell. I lowered myself gently to the mattress. There was the odor of stale food and general mustiness that came from someone living and sleeping in here for some time.

"What's your name?" he called back.

"Melody."

"Great name. You sing?"

"No."

"How come you're hitchhiking?"