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n silence had rendered her so invisible that the other kids no longer even noticed her. In a way, that was a blessing, since it meant they no longer bothered to tease her, either.The bus driver’s kind heart went out to this strange and fiercely silent girl. After all, it wasn’t Lucinda Ridder’s fault that her father was dead, that her mother was in prison, and that she herself had been forced to come live with her widowed grandmother, Catherine Yates, whose own great-grandfather had been a noted Apache chief. Lucy’s Indian blood had been diluted enough by both her grandfather and her father, so she didn’t look particularly Indian. Still, in that part of rural southeastern Arizona where what went on during the Apache Wars still mattered, people knew who she was and where she came from. And, as far as Apaches were concerned, what could you expect?Peering into the hazy reflection of her dusty rearview mirror, Agnes tried to catch Lucy’s sad, downcast eyes as she trudged disconsolately down the narrow aisle of the bus. Agnes was struck by the girl’s obvious reluctance to exit the bus. Everything about going to school and riding the bus had to be pure torture for her. Still, on this blustery spring afternoon, it seemed to Agnes that whatever fate awaited her at home must be far worse.As Lucy finally stepped off the bus onto the weed-clogged shoulder, Agnes called after her. “You-all have a good weekend, now,” the driver said as cheerily as she could manage. “See you on Monday.”Lucinda Ridder nodded, but she didn’t answer. Once clear of the bus, she stood watching while Mrs. Hooper switched off the flashing lights and ground the bus into gear. It took several moves to maneuver the ungainly bus in the narrow turnaround space th
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