The Chronicles of a Public Bus (part 3.09)

Monday, 6:00, route 31

When Drake pushes Willow into an inconspicuous seat near but not at the back of the bus, she feels the pinpricks of claws pushing into her coat. His face is flushed and littered with reddish freckles, and even though it’s hardly above freezing outside, and dawn hasn’t broken, his forehead is shiny with sweat. Underneath his anxiety though, Willow senses a kind of excitement. His breathing sounds like an airy chuckle, and he bounces when he lands on his seat.

“Listen, listen,” he starts, fiddling with the straps on his backpack, impatient for Willow to get settled. “So I learned something really interesting last night.”

Willow wraps her arms around herself and wishes the bus had heat lamps instead of blue lights. “Um, okay?”

“Apparently my mom once had a hoard piece stolen, like here, in Franklin City. That’s why she and Grandpa are so worked up about this ordeal.”

“I feel like you’ve said something like this before,” Willow says. She pins a fraction of her attention on the front of the bus, where two older teenagers are glued to their phones, faces glowing in the dark. As long as Drake keeps his voice down, no one else should hear him.

“Mom found out who stole her lamp about a month later, but the thief had already used her hoard item and destroyed it.”

Willow pinches her eyebrows together, confused. “Huh? Why steal something if you’re only going to destroy it?”

“Well, it’s kind of hard to use a solid Tiffany lamp for much aside from it’s original purpose, so I guess the thief had to break it before he could use it for anything else.” Drake pauses and frowns. “Typically that alternative purpose is alchemy.”

Immediately, Willow brings a finger to her lips and shushes Drake. She jerks a thumb towards the front of the bus. “There are other people here, you know.” Only her voice’s high pitch makes her audible over the droning engine. “And why would you need a dragon’s hoard item for alchemy?”

“Magic makes magic, I guess” Drake says, shrugging. “European Enlightenment dampened the magical properties of a lot of chemicals, so alchemists had to turn to other materials. I don’t really know what the thief did with Mom’s Tiffany lamp though.”

As he finishes, the bus lurches in a hard stop, and Willow shoots her hand out to catch herself, whacking Drake in the process. He grunts and rubs his arm, looking between the door and his injury.

“Is this Mr. Pyus’s stop?” he asks.

If the two people at the front of the bus indiscreetly moving to different seats isn’t enough evidence to answer ‘yes,’ Mr. Pyus’s joyous greeting is. He boards in graceful clumsiness, wobbling without bumping into the sliding doors or handrails. If he notices the other passengers sliding away from him, he doesn’t show it. “Good morning!” he bellows.

Willow winces, and her ears almost twitch. “Ugh. Please please please tell me he’s not going to sit near us,” she mutters.

Thankfully, Mr. Pyus tumbles into a seat vacated earlier by the other teenagers on the bus. He pats his belly, invoking a Saint Nicholas-like image, and turns to speak with the driver, his words echoing and bouncing around the bus despite the heater’s buzzing and the engine’s whirring.

“It’s amazing how a man that old can still be so lively,” Drake whispers, leaning closer to Willow.

“Maybe he eats a lot of peaches.”

Drake lifts an eyebrow and pulls away. “Peaches?”

“Oh! Well, um, it’s a Chinese thing, you know. They bring longevity and vitality and all that.” Willow titters and hunches over, bashful. “Supposedly, there’s an orchard in heaven full of peaches that grant immortality.”

“Really?” Drake asks. “Immortality?” He blinks a few times, and his gaze wanders to the relocated teenagers sitting two rows in front of him and Willow. Mr. Pyus’s loud conversation has induced the phone-using duo to wear their headphones, and Drake can almost hear a bass thrum from one of them. “I know the general world view has changed since the days of popular alchemy, but do you think there are still immortality seekers out there?”

“Pharmaceutical companies are trying to develop an actual peach of immortality, if that’s what you mean,” Willow replies. “Mama and Ah-gong complain about those people all the time.”

With reluctant purpose, Drake swings his head around to look straight at Willow. His mouth is pulled into a thin, serious line. “I know this is a stretch, but hear me out, please.”

“Um, okay.” After a glance at the other passengers, Willow nods for Drake to continue.

“Do you think a dragon hoard item might be useful for gaining immortality?”

Willow responds with still silence. Someone’s headphones are turned up too loud, and her ears practically flick to the noise. “Honestly,” she eventually says, “I don’t know enough about European powerful folk to answer that. You should ask your mom or another dragon, and, you know, don’t ask a Chinese dragon. I don’t think they work the way you do.”

At this, Drake frowns. He can’t ask any of his family members, and he doesn’t know where to ask for other dragons.

“Or,” Willow adds, “you could ask Divinity for help with research.” She gulps, and the movement in her throat shows even under the dim lighting. “I wouldn’t recommend it, but this is probably connected to that thing yesterday, and well…”

“Divinity would want to be involved,” Drake finishes. He makes a mental note to speak privately with Divinity later and then scoots closer to Willow. “Now then, what do you say we make predictions about whether or not the drama program adds a Tuesday showing to the musical?”

The topic change is obvious, but Willow awards Drake a relieved smile and takes the switch.