Travis

Things we found in the girl’s backpack:###
1. Pack of cigarettes: American Spirits###
2. Leather Journal: “from Mark,” empty###
3. Weird piece of wood###
4. Bible###
5. Pair of athletic socks: Nike, pink###
6. 3 hair bands###
7. 27 cents: 2 pennies and a quarter###
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We started with the cigarettes. Justin had a lighter he had found underneath a bench at the Summit stop. We went through the pack, lighting new ones by pressing the burning points into the old. The tips crinkled in the flame like cracking leaves. Justin showed me the different ways to hold a cigarette. “Like this, hanging off your lip: Paul Newman.” “Now, hold it like a pencil. From the side. John Steinbeck.”###
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He was always talking about guys who sounded dead.###
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We agreed the socks would go to his girlfriend, Stacey. I thought she sucked, but I didn’t need pink socks.###
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The quarter bought us a soda from the generic machine. Mountain Orange Blast, a cornucopia of corn syrup to wash out our burning throats. Justin chucked the empty at the busker who kept playing Dave Matthews songs. As if anyone wanted to hear “Crash Into Me” outside of a university dorm room. The can hit him in the dreads and landed in the guitar case. Dude kept on playing—a real soldier.###
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The Bible changed things a bit. I ripped some pages out and put them in my mouth, but Justin wasn’t laughing. He traded me for the journal. I quoted Aladdin at him. “Gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat, otherwise we’d get along.” Usually that would be good for a giggle, at least until the work crowds and more lifting. He wasn’t laughing.###
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“C’mon, she had a Bible and she smoked. Two vices. We helped her.” I said.###
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“You shouldn’t have ripped the pages out.”###
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“I didn’t swallow.”###
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“It’s weird.”###
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The wooden thing was too strange, which made it great. It was dark and smooth, two screws allowing a random piece to pivot. Justin turned the piece back and forth, but we couldn’t figure it out. He was the first one to notice something etched on its side in pencil. Rs 5.###
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“Rolling Stones,” I guessed.###
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“5 rupees,” Justin said.###
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“Hey, just like Aladdin.”###
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The station started to fill up with the work crowds. Everyone was silent and seemed strained, as if they were slowly being stretched out like the hair bands. Justin pocketed the wooden piece.###
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“We don’t even know what it does,” I said.###
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“It’s gotta be a souvenir. From India.”###
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“It’s trash.”###
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“We just don’t get it yet.”###
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I could tell I wasn’t going to win. It’s like when he talks about the guys who sound dead. There’s no bend to his voice.###
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He seemed better with the wooden crap in his pocket. I saw him pat it twice in that reassuring way people touch their wallets after climbing off the train. The crowd snaked between us as my lungs started to burn. I dropped the journal in front of him in the fake way, and he stooped to pick it up. Then I did the only thing I could think of to keep hanging on.###
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I stole the wooden thing.