Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Fourty Seven Times ❯ On The Way ( Chapter 3 )

Author's Note: Third part up! Shout for joy! Will you force me to resort to begging for reviews again?

 

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On The Way

 

The bus ride was hell, just as much as always. It couldn't even be called worse, really. The moment she boarded the bus, people shifted, moving their bags so they wouldn't have to be near `her'. She was tainted, dirty, not someone you should associate with if you valued your reputation and friends. The moment you voluntarily talked to `it', as people now referred to her, you were ruined. She looked for her one friend, Jewelia, but already knew what she would see. Someone had taken the seat that was to be saved for her. Again.

 

There was no empty seat, since they always made sure there wasn't by the time the bus reached her stop, but the driver would not leave if he saw someone standing in the aisle; not because he cared, but because he had already been in trouble for it once, for not following the safety regulations. He wanted to save his own butt and keep his job. She crouched in the aisle; maybe he wouldn't notice, if she stayed low.

 

But he did.

 

“Hey! You! Get in a seat!”

 

She winced. Could he be any louder if he tried? “There are none left, sir, the bus is full!”

 

“Either you find a seat or I'll find one for you. Hurry it up; we're all waiting on you.” He talked in a loud, slow drawl, obviously from the south. It only added to his air of indifference.

 

Panicked, she looked around. No one moved, or was willing to move, but she could see some- could see them, specifically- snickering. There were a few seats with only one or two people in them. She turned to the closest. There was only one person in it, Rogerson. I'll just have to deal with being near a boy. Having everyone stare is worse. “May I sit with you?” she asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper. She didn't look him in the eyes, instead examining the streaks of mud on her sneakers.

 

One of his friends handed him a large instrument from across the aisle. A grin spread across Rogerson's face as he announced, “Sorry, no room. My tumba is pretty big.”

 

I think you mean a `tuba', you ass. And that would be a guitar. I hadn't realized they let people with single digit IQ's into our school. “Okay. Thank you, anyway.” Her voice was polite, hiding her rage and hurt. He was the one who had begged her to tutor him, even though his grades had been better. Rogerson was the one who used to ask her out at least twice a month, no matter how often and how cruelly she had turned him down. He was milking this new position of superiority. She just hoped that the bus driver wouldn't say anything, even though there was no chance that he had not seen it, what with the way he and everyone else were staring at her.

 

The driver stood up, and she grimaced. He won't, he won't, he wouldn't!

 

The driver looked at the two girls in the front seat. “You two are small. Move over.”

 

Ashley and Angela grabbed their things and got up. She took a step back as they entered the seat and sat with Rogerson. He handed the guitar back across the aisle.

 

“There. You have a seat. Now sit down so that we can go.” For the moment, the bus driver had not noticed, or rather not mentioned, the situation. This just proved it; had he been a good adult, he would have told them off, done something. She was glad he hadn't.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered to the driver, as she put down her bag and sat. She shrank down in her seat, but couldn't will herself to disappear.

 

It's my own fault. I should have gone further back, where he wouldn't have seen me.

 

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Author's Note: I really, really need comments! I'm not very confident in my writing, and when it says `8 visit's, 0 review's' it really makes me feel like a failure. (Continues a moment, bitching and moaning and hoping for sympathy.) But seriously. I will respond to every review, I swear!