Chapter 1: First Day of School

“We’ve delayed you going long enough already, so quit moping and get your tail on that bus. If you miss it, you’re walking, and if you skip- Well, I’ll make sure you wish you didn’t.” I slam the door, thankful to finally have her behind it. One more word and I would have lost it. I’m getting so sick of her. Maybe she won’t care if I just never come back? But then, where would I go? I sigh and look up at the huge hunk of metal at our street corner and the wrinkled old man glaring at me, tapping at the wheel as if that will make me walk any faster. I return the pleasant expression and huff at him as I board then start scanning for an empty seat. He lurches the machine forward, and I stumble, and I swear I hear him laugh, and I grumble under my breath, not only because of him, but because, lucky me, there are no empty seats, so I’ll have to sit next to one of these delinquents who don’t know me and whom I don’t know and I’ll have to sit in the aisle seat where you get kicked and trampled as everyone scrambles to get off the jail bus. I scan for the most tolerable face, and tap a girl’s shoulder. She looks at me, and I c**k my head. She takes a moment to get the message, but finally does.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m waiting for a friend. She gets on at the next stop.” She shoves her backpack a little farther into the open space in case I’m deaf and can’t get the message. I look back up at the faces all avoiding me. This is going great so far.

“You can sit by me.” I turn and look at the scrawny boy leaning over the back of his seat, front seat, his shaggy hair so long it brushes his green eyes, reminding me of a dead bush hanging on to its last two leaves. Delinquent. But it’s not like I have many other options. I plop on the seat by him, at the edge of the cracked grey leather. I sag against the seat back and cross my arms, feeling the jolt of the wheels on the uneven road. How long is it to the school? “Haven’t seen your face around here before. You new?” I look over at the boy, sitting cross-legged and sideways on the seat, facing me. He’ll be in a bad state if that cruddy driver has any mishaps.

“No, I’ve been invisible these past few years and only recently started reflecting light.” He gives me a queer look that I can’t quite discern and I stare a little longer than I intend to. He doesn’t shy away or get angry like everyone else.

“Where you from?”

Ugh. Nosy brat.

“What is it to you?”

“Curious about new folks. Not too many new faces around here. Not too many faces around here.” He gives me a grin, his green eyes wide with interest. He’s like a puppy.

“South.” I sink deeper into the seat.

“Where down south?”

Why won’t he leave me alone? Doesn’t he get the message?

“Way down south.”

“Was it hot there?” He’s leaning closer, so close I can smell him. I don’t like him that close. And, it smells like he was raised in the woods. He smells like dirt. I eek a little farther off the edge of my seat.

“Hotter than here.”

“Do you like the cold?”

“Do you like asking questions?”

“I do, actually.” I stare at him, and he stares at me with that goofy grin.

“Why?” The question’s more to myself than him.

“I like getting to know people. New people. See if you’re worth my time.” His last words hold a peculiar tone, and he gives me such a look, such a look, it almost scares me, and I back away from him, but too far, and I slip off the seat, hitting the dusty floor procuring a round of laughter, even from him, and my cheeks grow hot. He holds out a hand, but I perch back on the edge careful not to touch it. He’s still leaning a little too close, just staring at me, and the more his eyes bear into me, the less I can bear the ride.

I swear ages go by waiting for the endless tunnel of trees to go by, but finally they clear showing the dull little brick box that will be “home” for seven hours a day. But at least it’s time I don’t have to spend with her. The bus screeches to a halt and I shrink in the chair as the stampede passes nearly taking my arm with it, the girl whose shoulder I tapped among them, alone. I rise as the last of them pass and step off, careful to avoid eye contact with the driver. Stepping out of the dusty rust bucket I get a noseful of mud. This whole city I swear smells like mud.

A hand on my shoulder makes me flinch, but its grip remains firm.

“Her friend does usually ride the bus, you know. And, thought you’d like to know, I’ve decided. I believe you may be very much worth my time.” His voice in my ear sends a shiver down my spine, and I nearly yelp, but restrain myself. He releases his grip then walks off, casting me back that queer smile before being swallowed into the darkness within the brick.