mrsimple
Writer
- Joined
- Dec 24, 2018
- Messages
- 251
- Points
- 63
Second part.
There was only a second or two that passed before I got back up. I had to catch the bus, and I wasn’t going to let myself miss it.
Especially after making a fool of myself by tripping over my own two feet in front of everyone.
Around the front of the bus I ran, came to the high automatic door, and waited for it to reopen. Thankfully, it did.
Up the couple of dark steps, it looked completely void of light. I could make out the shape of the driver, but he or she appeared as nothing more than a seated black outline. The arm of the driver was stretched out, holding onto the handle that geared open the door.
To show I was happy, I smiled and gave a little wave to the driver.
Nothing.
No asking if I was alright, exchange of names, or a single word. Whoever the driver was didn’t even make a gesture of acknowledgement I existed.
Well, I supposed the door being opened counted. And I only made my greeting in silence.
So I spoke. “I’m sorry for being late, but thank you for waiting for me.”
Still nothing. I began to worry if I had caused this driver to be upset with me. As if I would be on the troublemaker’s list. I knew those were very real, and that the best way for bus drivers to respond to those incidents, they had to be disconnected with that particular passenger.
No socializing. The less of a relationship they had with the bad seed, the easier it was to be hard and get whatever was required to be done. Like punishments.
That was not gonna be me. I had intended this for the teacher, but I would have to make a sacrifice here and now.
Taking one step up, I took a hold of the gleaming steel rail and pulled myself up to skip over the next step onto the bus.
Strangely enough, I still couldn’t make out the facial features of the bus driver. The dark shade and hat they wore was obscuring anything I could’ve normally have seen.
Kinda eerie.
Without being dissuaded from my plan, I offered the red apple to the bus driver.
Finally, there was movement. The driver let go of the handle and held out a strikingly pure white hand. I had an idea now that perhaps this person made their corner of the bus dark on purpose.
Being of a redheaded stock, I knew exactly how painfully easy it was to be burnt by the sun.
That knowledge being set aside for now, I smiled a little more and set the apple down on the driver’s palm. Long and snowy white fingers grasped the red fruit and pulled it back close to their obscured face.
Just barely, I could make out the gleaming teeth behind a smile.
-CLACK!-
I jumped at the noise. It took me a moment to figure out what caused it.
Over my shoulder, I took note of the door having closed behind me. I must have been distracted by that smile to have missed the driver closing the door.
Returning my attention to the driver, I gave my own greeting. “I’m Jake.”
The only response I was given had been a nod. Then the apple was settled down someplace in the driver’s lap.
One white hand rested on the steering wheel, the other groped the stick shift, and that was taken as my cue to find a seat. I hurried past to be down the aisle in search.
There were others on board, but I couldn’t make out any of their faces. Even when I stooped over for a moment, I missed the opportunity to inspect a face when they turned to look out the window.
It was like they were avoiding my gaze. I had no idea why, unless they already thought I was a loser.
One fall, and that was it to earn a label.
That was enough for me to try an empty seat rather than score some points with familiarizing myself with somebody here. I took to the bench and slid myself snug against the side window.
Just like everyone else, I looked out the window. I spotted my mother.
With a single-knuckled knock, I tried to grab her attention. I would at least give her the chance to capture my smile and wave onboard, if not out on the street.
But she just stood there. Her hand was covering her mouth for some reason. And her eyes were on the ground.
On the black asphalt, I couldn’t make out too much, but I saw something green laying there...
It hit me just then. I didn’t feel the crush of my bookbag between the seat behind me.
“Aw, man,” I looked to see if maybe my sleep deprived mind had simply forgotten that I had set it down someplace. Like right beside me. “...Nope.”
Not a thing there but extra ass-space. And I bet everything I had that was what my mother had her sights on in the middle of the road.
“Hi!” And I jumped right up and out of my seat at that high pitched greet.
Right when I had looked up from the seat beside me, there had been a sweetly smiling face staring right back at me. From their posture, I supposed they were seated in front of me. Likely from how they twisted around that seat, they were still sitting down as the bus went into motion.
Not to be rude, I settled back down in my seat and said, “Hello.”
“Jake, right?” I again supposed this person overheard me speaking with the bus driver.
“Yeah.” Before they would ask, I announced: “New here.”
In the darkness of the aisle, I could barely make out who or what kind of person this was. All I knew, they sounded like puberty hadn’t hit yet.
“Was that your mom?” And with that being asked, I looked back out the window to spot her.
As we drove away, I thought I caught Mom crying. If anyone else saw that… I instantly slid down my seat and hid beneath the window.
“Uh…” I had no idea if it was good or bad to acknowledge the emotional woman out there being my mother.
“That was your mom, right?” I looked back at the person and caught the whites of their teeth behind a smug looking grin. “To walk hand-in-hand all the way here, she must’ve loved ya.”
“Uh, yeah.” I couldn’t help but cringe at being seen holding hands. To change the subject, I asked: “What’s your name?”
The grin had been covered behind a their hand. I supposed they exhibited either shock or a mockery of it by doing that. I wasn’t able to read what kind of person this was yet
My excuse was because of how dark it was in this bus -- regardless of the morning and the windows to welcome that light in here.
Behind that hand, I heard a muffled apology and name. “Sorry. I’m Jessie.”
“S’okay.” And despite having a name now to call this person by, that didn’t answer one thing: the name could be for a boy or girl. Either way that swung, I said, “Nice to meet you, Jessie.”
The hand dropped away from their lips before I heard a request. “May I sit with you?”
“Sure.” I thought, <i>’Maybe I was wrong about being categorized as bad news?’</i> “Do you mind if I take care of that first?”
“Huh?” I wasn’t sure what Jessie meant, but I took notice they were pointing at my face. “Something on me?”
“You fell, right?” I winced again, but silently nodded in response. “If you don’t mind, here.”
Before I figured out what was about to happen, Jessie brought up to my face a piece of white cloth. I wasn’t aware of where that thing came from, but I assumed from their pocket or a bookbag.
...I didn’t see a bookbag, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one sitting in the aisle. I tried to straighten up and look over Jessie, and instead had shifted to face a collision course with that piece of cloth.
A slight swip along the side of my right cheek, then under that side of my eye, up and around the brow, and higher across my forehead. When the cloth was pulled away, it was red.
Blood red.
Blood.
“Jesus!” I instantly brought my hand up to my head and hair to feel around for any outstanding injuries. Anything that was out of place. A tiny bit of pain or something that felt off.
“Hey, you’re cool.” Jessie got comfortable right beside me and tucked the soiled cloth down by their thigh and out of my sight into a pocket of their beige short-shorts. “Chill-out. No creepy-crawlies are in your hair.”
“What?” I actually started to feel tingly pricks on my scalp from the thought of something in my hair.
“Ah, sorry. I mean, you’re fine. Just a -- here.” Without asking, Jessie grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand out of my hair. “Right here.”
My hand was directed and pressed against the border of my forehead and hairline. I felt the gash. Then Jessie slipped something between my hand and this wound.
Fabric is what I felt. And when I pulled it down to look, I saw another white cloth in my hand, and I simply reapplied it to my head.
“It’s not bleeding anymore, but just in case…” I understood the meaning.
“I… I hit my head,” was my explanation for this.
“Yeah, I saw.” Jessie nodded back, as if to gesture at something or someone behind them. “And so did everyone else.”
With a bloody face, it was no wonder nobody wanted to look my way. I wasn’t labeled as a loser, but I might’ve now been considered creepy by everybody.
Except maybe Jessie.
And yet, I felt ashamed of myself. I had distressed my mother, caused the bus driver to wait for me, and disturbed every single passenger on the bus.
All of this because of a game.
“What made you go full throttle like that anyways?” I blinked in confusion and wonder.
“What?” I hadn’t been certain what Jessie meant.
“You know.” Jessie pointed past me and towards the window. “You ran out --”
“Oh, that.” I thought that was obvious, but apparently not. “I thought the bus was going to leave.”
For a moment, Jessie dropped their pointing finger and just stared at me. Then smiled.
“This bus?” With a shake of their head, Jessie claimed: “No way would we leave without you.”
“How do you know?” I was genuinely curious. “What I mean is, I’m new here. How would anyone here know if they were short one somebody they never met?”
There were a few questions I had about this bus too. I would’ve liked to have known why it was so very dark in here.
So before Jessie could answer the one question, I asked another. “Why is it dark in here?”
Especially after making a fool of myself by tripping over my own two feet in front of everyone.
Around the front of the bus I ran, came to the high automatic door, and waited for it to reopen. Thankfully, it did.
Up the couple of dark steps, it looked completely void of light. I could make out the shape of the driver, but he or she appeared as nothing more than a seated black outline. The arm of the driver was stretched out, holding onto the handle that geared open the door.
To show I was happy, I smiled and gave a little wave to the driver.
Nothing.
No asking if I was alright, exchange of names, or a single word. Whoever the driver was didn’t even make a gesture of acknowledgement I existed.
Well, I supposed the door being opened counted. And I only made my greeting in silence.
So I spoke. “I’m sorry for being late, but thank you for waiting for me.”
Still nothing. I began to worry if I had caused this driver to be upset with me. As if I would be on the troublemaker’s list. I knew those were very real, and that the best way for bus drivers to respond to those incidents, they had to be disconnected with that particular passenger.
No socializing. The less of a relationship they had with the bad seed, the easier it was to be hard and get whatever was required to be done. Like punishments.
That was not gonna be me. I had intended this for the teacher, but I would have to make a sacrifice here and now.
Taking one step up, I took a hold of the gleaming steel rail and pulled myself up to skip over the next step onto the bus.
Strangely enough, I still couldn’t make out the facial features of the bus driver. The dark shade and hat they wore was obscuring anything I could’ve normally have seen.
Kinda eerie.
Without being dissuaded from my plan, I offered the red apple to the bus driver.
Finally, there was movement. The driver let go of the handle and held out a strikingly pure white hand. I had an idea now that perhaps this person made their corner of the bus dark on purpose.
Being of a redheaded stock, I knew exactly how painfully easy it was to be burnt by the sun.
That knowledge being set aside for now, I smiled a little more and set the apple down on the driver’s palm. Long and snowy white fingers grasped the red fruit and pulled it back close to their obscured face.
Just barely, I could make out the gleaming teeth behind a smile.
-CLACK!-
I jumped at the noise. It took me a moment to figure out what caused it.
Over my shoulder, I took note of the door having closed behind me. I must have been distracted by that smile to have missed the driver closing the door.
Returning my attention to the driver, I gave my own greeting. “I’m Jake.”
The only response I was given had been a nod. Then the apple was settled down someplace in the driver’s lap.
One white hand rested on the steering wheel, the other groped the stick shift, and that was taken as my cue to find a seat. I hurried past to be down the aisle in search.
There were others on board, but I couldn’t make out any of their faces. Even when I stooped over for a moment, I missed the opportunity to inspect a face when they turned to look out the window.
It was like they were avoiding my gaze. I had no idea why, unless they already thought I was a loser.
One fall, and that was it to earn a label.
That was enough for me to try an empty seat rather than score some points with familiarizing myself with somebody here. I took to the bench and slid myself snug against the side window.
Just like everyone else, I looked out the window. I spotted my mother.
With a single-knuckled knock, I tried to grab her attention. I would at least give her the chance to capture my smile and wave onboard, if not out on the street.
But she just stood there. Her hand was covering her mouth for some reason. And her eyes were on the ground.
On the black asphalt, I couldn’t make out too much, but I saw something green laying there...
It hit me just then. I didn’t feel the crush of my bookbag between the seat behind me.
“Aw, man,” I looked to see if maybe my sleep deprived mind had simply forgotten that I had set it down someplace. Like right beside me. “...Nope.”
Not a thing there but extra ass-space. And I bet everything I had that was what my mother had her sights on in the middle of the road.
“Hi!” And I jumped right up and out of my seat at that high pitched greet.
Right when I had looked up from the seat beside me, there had been a sweetly smiling face staring right back at me. From their posture, I supposed they were seated in front of me. Likely from how they twisted around that seat, they were still sitting down as the bus went into motion.
Not to be rude, I settled back down in my seat and said, “Hello.”
“Jake, right?” I again supposed this person overheard me speaking with the bus driver.
“Yeah.” Before they would ask, I announced: “New here.”
In the darkness of the aisle, I could barely make out who or what kind of person this was. All I knew, they sounded like puberty hadn’t hit yet.
“Was that your mom?” And with that being asked, I looked back out the window to spot her.
As we drove away, I thought I caught Mom crying. If anyone else saw that… I instantly slid down my seat and hid beneath the window.
“Uh…” I had no idea if it was good or bad to acknowledge the emotional woman out there being my mother.
“That was your mom, right?” I looked back at the person and caught the whites of their teeth behind a smug looking grin. “To walk hand-in-hand all the way here, she must’ve loved ya.”
“Uh, yeah.” I couldn’t help but cringe at being seen holding hands. To change the subject, I asked: “What’s your name?”
The grin had been covered behind a their hand. I supposed they exhibited either shock or a mockery of it by doing that. I wasn’t able to read what kind of person this was yet
My excuse was because of how dark it was in this bus -- regardless of the morning and the windows to welcome that light in here.
Behind that hand, I heard a muffled apology and name. “Sorry. I’m Jessie.”
“S’okay.” And despite having a name now to call this person by, that didn’t answer one thing: the name could be for a boy or girl. Either way that swung, I said, “Nice to meet you, Jessie.”
The hand dropped away from their lips before I heard a request. “May I sit with you?”
“Sure.” I thought, <i>’Maybe I was wrong about being categorized as bad news?’</i> “Do you mind if I take care of that first?”
“Huh?” I wasn’t sure what Jessie meant, but I took notice they were pointing at my face. “Something on me?”
“You fell, right?” I winced again, but silently nodded in response. “If you don’t mind, here.”
Before I figured out what was about to happen, Jessie brought up to my face a piece of white cloth. I wasn’t aware of where that thing came from, but I assumed from their pocket or a bookbag.
...I didn’t see a bookbag, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one sitting in the aisle. I tried to straighten up and look over Jessie, and instead had shifted to face a collision course with that piece of cloth.
A slight swip along the side of my right cheek, then under that side of my eye, up and around the brow, and higher across my forehead. When the cloth was pulled away, it was red.
Blood red.
Blood.
“Jesus!” I instantly brought my hand up to my head and hair to feel around for any outstanding injuries. Anything that was out of place. A tiny bit of pain or something that felt off.
“Hey, you’re cool.” Jessie got comfortable right beside me and tucked the soiled cloth down by their thigh and out of my sight into a pocket of their beige short-shorts. “Chill-out. No creepy-crawlies are in your hair.”
“What?” I actually started to feel tingly pricks on my scalp from the thought of something in my hair.
“Ah, sorry. I mean, you’re fine. Just a -- here.” Without asking, Jessie grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand out of my hair. “Right here.”
My hand was directed and pressed against the border of my forehead and hairline. I felt the gash. Then Jessie slipped something between my hand and this wound.
Fabric is what I felt. And when I pulled it down to look, I saw another white cloth in my hand, and I simply reapplied it to my head.
“It’s not bleeding anymore, but just in case…” I understood the meaning.
“I… I hit my head,” was my explanation for this.
“Yeah, I saw.” Jessie nodded back, as if to gesture at something or someone behind them. “And so did everyone else.”
With a bloody face, it was no wonder nobody wanted to look my way. I wasn’t labeled as a loser, but I might’ve now been considered creepy by everybody.
Except maybe Jessie.
And yet, I felt ashamed of myself. I had distressed my mother, caused the bus driver to wait for me, and disturbed every single passenger on the bus.
All of this because of a game.
“What made you go full throttle like that anyways?” I blinked in confusion and wonder.
“What?” I hadn’t been certain what Jessie meant.
“You know.” Jessie pointed past me and towards the window. “You ran out --”
“Oh, that.” I thought that was obvious, but apparently not. “I thought the bus was going to leave.”
For a moment, Jessie dropped their pointing finger and just stared at me. Then smiled.
“This bus?” With a shake of their head, Jessie claimed: “No way would we leave without you.”
“How do you know?” I was genuinely curious. “What I mean is, I’m new here. How would anyone here know if they were short one somebody they never met?”
There were a few questions I had about this bus too. I would’ve liked to have known why it was so very dark in here.
So before Jessie could answer the one question, I asked another. “Why is it dark in here?”