The Morning Bus

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I tapped my foot to the music in my ear buds, while patiently waiting for the bus to arrive. A wave of dread spread throughout my body like wildfire thinking of going to school. Just the mere thought of me walking through the gates of hell in which people call high-school, sent shivers down my spine. Quickly enough those shivers were interrupted by the sound of teenagers taunting me. I looked up, and to my surprise, the bus had passed me, as though it was taunting me as well. Making sure my converse were tied tight, I bolted towards the bus as fast as I could go. Minutes passed, and I was still perpetually running and yelling for the bus to stop. Finally it came to an abrupt halt, and the rusty doors creaked open, leaving me to get on.

Looking for a seat was the worst thing to deal with in the morning. Mostly because nobody would let me sit with them, but now and then some generous soul would let me slide in next to them. My eyes rested on a familiar face, and the shivers were back. Flash Thompson. The name it's self made me feel unsettled. The look of disdain rested upon my fearful face as I cautiously begin to pass him in the aisle. I heard flash whisper to his friends, and then a sinister chuckle escaped his lips. The next thing I knew, my face was rested on the cold metallic floor, as well as the rest of my frail body. The entire bus came into a roaring laughter, as did flash and his goons of course. I slowly picked myself up and sat down in the back of the bus where nobody was. Taking my bag in my hands, I rummaged through it to find my needed just-in-case pair of glasses, for the ones I were wearing broke on the quick journey to the floor. While putting the new ones on, the bus stopped and the rusty doors opened once more, kicking us all off. Stepping off the bus, my stomach dropped, and the warm sick feeling resurfaced. High-school.


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