Status: I got a clue as to where this was heading, and now it's finished.
Bus
2.
“So how’s your first week been?” Sharon asks.
It’s 3:15 in the afternoon the next day. As usual, the drivers are still at the county bus loop – a lot of them just got back from dropping off their elementary school kids, but it’s too early to head out to the junior highs right now. This is ritual. Nobody wants to be early, so we just chill here.
Ronnie leans against her bus – the one we always talk in front of – and takes a long drag from a cigarette. “Still gettin’ used to the new kids.” As if she can read my mind, she hands me a cig too and gives me a light. I don’t even like smoking. I just do it sometimes when I’m around them.
“Do you have a lotta seventh graders this year?” Anita inquires. She’s the oldest of all of us. She’s been driving these things since she was twenty-four – beats me how she didn’t get a better job. “I got lucky. I only got ten that’re in seventh.”
I snort a rude laugh and roll my eyes. “Count your blessings. I got at least ten.”
Sharon hoots, her buck teeth protruding out. “Sucks for you! Haha!”
“Hold on,” Ronnie interjects. Her face goes serious and we all kinda stop. “You drive through Alta Vista, right Doug?”
I’m not sure why she asked it, but I nod anyway.
As if it’s some kind of inside joke that Anita, Ronnie, and Sharon are in on, they all gasp in unison. Then they break out smiling.
“Oh my God, you’re stuck with the Alvarez kids!” Anita laughs. “I had to pick up three of them when I was your age! I hear they got one in seventh this year.”
“Who now? Alvarez?” I ask, desperate for an answer. I hate being the youngest here. They know the kids and their siblings like the backs of their hands, while I don’t care enough to notice. “Who’re they?”
Ronnie stares at the sky, not bothering to take her sunglasses off. (I swear, no one’s ever seen her without ‘em.) “Let’s see…there’s Brianna, Kevin, Terrence, Antoine, Judith…and the youngest one. The one in seventh this year. He lives in Alta Vista, Doug.”
Sharon slaps her pale, unshaven knee. “You’re in for a treat this year, Tater!”
“Joy,” I grumble. “I don’t even know who the hell you’re talking about, Ronnie. I don’t know those kids’ names. Not the new ones, anyway.” I put the cigarette she gave me up to my lips and suck in, trying to divert the conversation away from this, even though I hardly ever smoke. I’d rather be surprised by bad behavior than be warned about it and spend my days paranoid.
“I think his name’s Andre, anyway,” Anita adds. A quizzical look sweeps across her face. “He’s small and loud. Least, that’s what I hear. And he’s got friends.”
I swear to God, if Sharon laughs any louder I’m gonna explode.
“Friends?” I grimace.
“Friends in his grade. Lots of kids his age – lots of kids like him. They’re a wild bunch, I hear.” Anita slaps my shoulder with a fake smile. “But at least I don’t have to deal with them! Thanks for taking Alta Vista the past few years, Dougie!”
And they keep on giggling like that, excluding me from their happiness. I bite my lip before taking another drag from the cigarette, taking my last moments of peace from it before having to drive to hell.
Hell – otherwise known as Yuma Middle School.
It’s 3:15 in the afternoon the next day. As usual, the drivers are still at the county bus loop – a lot of them just got back from dropping off their elementary school kids, but it’s too early to head out to the junior highs right now. This is ritual. Nobody wants to be early, so we just chill here.
Ronnie leans against her bus – the one we always talk in front of – and takes a long drag from a cigarette. “Still gettin’ used to the new kids.” As if she can read my mind, she hands me a cig too and gives me a light. I don’t even like smoking. I just do it sometimes when I’m around them.
“Do you have a lotta seventh graders this year?” Anita inquires. She’s the oldest of all of us. She’s been driving these things since she was twenty-four – beats me how she didn’t get a better job. “I got lucky. I only got ten that’re in seventh.”
I snort a rude laugh and roll my eyes. “Count your blessings. I got at least ten.”
Sharon hoots, her buck teeth protruding out. “Sucks for you! Haha!”
“Hold on,” Ronnie interjects. Her face goes serious and we all kinda stop. “You drive through Alta Vista, right Doug?”
I’m not sure why she asked it, but I nod anyway.
As if it’s some kind of inside joke that Anita, Ronnie, and Sharon are in on, they all gasp in unison. Then they break out smiling.
“Oh my God, you’re stuck with the Alvarez kids!” Anita laughs. “I had to pick up three of them when I was your age! I hear they got one in seventh this year.”
“Who now? Alvarez?” I ask, desperate for an answer. I hate being the youngest here. They know the kids and their siblings like the backs of their hands, while I don’t care enough to notice. “Who’re they?”
Ronnie stares at the sky, not bothering to take her sunglasses off. (I swear, no one’s ever seen her without ‘em.) “Let’s see…there’s Brianna, Kevin, Terrence, Antoine, Judith…and the youngest one. The one in seventh this year. He lives in Alta Vista, Doug.”
Sharon slaps her pale, unshaven knee. “You’re in for a treat this year, Tater!”
“Joy,” I grumble. “I don’t even know who the hell you’re talking about, Ronnie. I don’t know those kids’ names. Not the new ones, anyway.” I put the cigarette she gave me up to my lips and suck in, trying to divert the conversation away from this, even though I hardly ever smoke. I’d rather be surprised by bad behavior than be warned about it and spend my days paranoid.
“I think his name’s Andre, anyway,” Anita adds. A quizzical look sweeps across her face. “He’s small and loud. Least, that’s what I hear. And he’s got friends.”
I swear to God, if Sharon laughs any louder I’m gonna explode.
“Friends?” I grimace.
“Friends in his grade. Lots of kids his age – lots of kids like him. They’re a wild bunch, I hear.” Anita slaps my shoulder with a fake smile. “But at least I don’t have to deal with them! Thanks for taking Alta Vista the past few years, Dougie!”
And they keep on giggling like that, excluding me from their happiness. I bite my lip before taking another drag from the cigarette, taking my last moments of peace from it before having to drive to hell.
Hell – otherwise known as Yuma Middle School.
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Shorter than the previous one, but it introduces a few fellow bus drivers.Updates are gonna be kinda slow. I'm rewriting another story right now and wanna get that one posted before I really start to work on this one.