Canton had never noticed that. The broom dog had just become a thing he had, a thing he knew was there if he needed it, but it had been a long time, he just now realized, since he’d actually needed it.
“It’s all faded now anyway,” Canton said, grabbing his backpack. They stood on the corner, looked both ways before crossing.
“Still want it?” his mother asked. Canton shrugged, tossed it up in the air. Caught it. Tossed it again. Caught it. Again, and loose straw separated from the bunch. Again. And more loose straw, falling down on them. And more. Ms. Post laughed. “Look at that. A school bus falling from the sky.”
Canton smiled, knowing a school bus is many things.
So is a walk home.