What a Ride

Wham! There he sat. Not even moving, just sitting there staring at me with those gigantic brown eyes and a nose and mouth to match. He became even more intimidating when I had finally taken into account the bald head and small chin that gave his head such a distorted look. I just stood there. I wanted to move, but I couldn’t. I was rooted to the spot. Nothing in the world could get me on that bus. Then, from somewhere out of the blue, a hand that felt abnormally large on my miniscule back gave me a push. The next thing I knew, I was standing mere feet from the man that I feared. Wham! Once again the doors slammed closed. There was no turning back now. I was forever trapped, like a bird in a cage. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

My mind raced. What was to be done? Where should I sit? I refused to perch myself near the treacherous man behind the wheel, nor take a place near one of the countless other captives. I had no choice. I was required to seat myself amongst them. Thus began my lonesome march toward the rear of the vehicle. Row by row, prying eyes stared at me in the most profound manner. They were like vultures eyeing an exceptionally tasty and helpless looking piece of meat. Yet, I trudged on. Three row from the back I found my place. All alone, no threatening individuals for me to be mortified of, but it was only a matter of time.

Squeak! We were off. Gone as fast as a speeding bullet. I found myself strained against the sorry excuse for a seat that I was sitting upon, wanting desperately for the ride to come to an end. Finally, a wave of relief came over me as we came to a slow, screeching halt. One single student of my age entered the premises of the bus. He was slightly on the fluffy side to put his shape into perspective. He had wire rimmed glasses that fell aimlessly down to the end of his nose. Too many freckles gave his face the look of a tourist with a sunburn which nicely complimented hair so red that I initially thought it was on fire. His apparent apprehension reminded me of myself at first, but then he proudly stumbled to the back of the bus. I realized that he was sitting in the seat directly across the aisle from me. Then, he casually turned to me and told me to scram. Finally it all clicked. Not only was I sitting in his seat, but I had caused him the embarrassing apprehensive look as he made his way on to the bus. Now, I’m not one that intends to stereotype others, but in this case I could not resist. Initially, he looked to be what most people would consider a “nerd” or “geek.” But, after this shocking encounter, I realized that he was actually a straight up bully. He was the one vulture with the courage to come and play with me, the helpless piece of meat. Then, with a look of mortal fear on my face, I calmly stood and stepped away from the seat that I had so wrongly chosen. With the slouch of a child sent to the principal’s office, I slowly moved toward the front of the bus. This time though, the aggressive eyes that had once stared me in the face were eyes of pity, for they all knew that it was on them that I, the new kid, had fallen victim of the oversized bully. I found a new seat, this time right in the middle of the dungeon. As the bus picked up speed yet once again, I felt as though I was the most downtrodden student on that lonesome bus.

Seeing as things had turned for the worst, I was in no mood to look at any sort of bright side. I elected to just sit silently in my seat. With no words to comfort me or pick me up, I slouched lower and lower in my temporary place of dwelling. Suddenly, I heard a noise. As I listened, this noise became a grumble, which in turn became a voice. There was hope. I nonchalantly turned a full 180 degrees to find myself face to face with a child that was no older that myself. Nothing but skin and bones glaring in my direction. Surely he had been talking to someone other than myself. Why would he want to say talk to me? I slowly built up my courage to a point that exceeded the amount I had thought possible by far, then I simply asked him if he was directing his words toward me. When I did, the floodgates opened up. The boy told me how sorry he was about what had happened and how he felt really bad about not telling me of the dreadful mistake that I made in my seat choice. Once he started, there was no stopping him. Finally, when it came to an end I was actually able bring myself to talk to him. I found loads about him, and I told him tons about myself. I had made a new friend. By the time we reached the school, we knew just about everything about each other. It had rained at first, but now the sun was shining.

As the bus slowly rolled to a stop outside of the school, we realized that the trip was finally over. We had made it. I had made it. As I exited the bus, I couldn’t help thinking that what I had once seen as a prison had become a sort of magnificent gift. The funny thing is, if I hadn’t chosen the bully’s seat and been tormented, I would have never met my best friend. The worst part turned out to be the end of the ride. I no longer feared the ride; in fact, I couldn’t wait for the trip home.