Priscilla, pivoted to walk toward the shiny wooden benches in the Whites Only waiting area. They ignored the red sign pointing out colored as bright as a bloodstain, their matching skirts twirling in concert. They weren’t twins but might as well be. Pat was younger by birthdate, but far older by temperament. They came from two different directions and saw the same new world. And they were on their way to join the Freedom Riders in Montgomery.
