Different.

Off Beat.

Chapter 4.

Once making a run for the bus stop, I finally arrive. Looking around-the area is silent. There's only me and my own shadow. It was silence I had never experienced before. I look up into the usual misty sky that there is every morning. My life is always so offbeat.

Three minutes at the bus stop. My hands are beginning to freeze. I crack the knuckles on my left hand. They were stiff, since i hadn't taken them out of my jacket pocket, where I held them closed. The wind was quite frigid. I try avoiding it by stuffing my face in between where the zipper on my jacket ends. My hair whips me in the face, avoiding me from viewing a dim light triggering from ahead. I move the hair away, and look forward.

There it was.
The bus had suddenly shown up, after my skin remained pale as the bus  skidded to a stopping point. The lights at the front of the bus so faintly-viewable. I had hardly recognized it was a bus, because of it's unusual, feeble, faint color. In fact; it looked like a ghost-bus,  other than that of a preppy school bus.

The bus stood in front of me as I stared at it with confusion, looking up and around at it. The doors automatically opened. An old man with a plaid long sleeved top, corduroy pants, running shoes, and an elderly casual summer cap, sat in the drivers seat.

"Well, hello there", he mumbles at me.

I stare at him, as if I'd been stunned and can't speak.

"Are you just going to stand there...? If so, I can leave you to walk to school all by yourself."

I shook my head, and focused on the man. I stumble across the many words that suddenly pour out of my mouth, as he glances at me with a dry expression.

"Oh, I'm so sorry,  I just want to make sure I'm getting on, y'know-the 'right bus.'"

"Oh, you're perfectly fine. Buses in the olden days used to look like this, when paint wasn't around. It reminds me of my childhood years. The lights at the front don't seem to be working that well. I think this bus had previously been in some sort of accident and it's lights broke, before I started this job. I guess an amateur job was done on the front lights."

"Shucks."-I whisper lightly.

"Well, hop on already!"

As I walk my way up the stairs of the bus, I view a name tag on the old man's plaid shirt. It read "The bus driver." I laugh at the obvious, but mostly cliche, unnecessary manner. He stares at me oddly in confusion, as I turn around to walk through the aisles of the bus seats. I hadn't expected this...

"Oh-no..." I stare ahead through the walkway.

Students crowded in large groups, sit at the end of the bus. Some hovering over seats to chat with others, yelling, talking extremely loud, and-the high key bully's who may stare you down like a hawk. The ones with muscles,  so many friends, and the people who stare at you is if you've been living in a swamp, and you have frizzy hair.

I feel anxious. Everyone turns around and stares at me. I try to make a quick move, by choosing the seat farthest from any trouble that could surpass me. I find one that is completely empty. Once I sit down, everyone begins doing their own little thing. This includes of keeping me alone, which is exactly what I wanted.

I look at the crevice of the bus seat.

"Ugh!!! What is this?"-A long strip of "fruit roll ups" hangs from the backrest of the seat, through the slit, and nearly touching the floor beneath me. I move closer to the window, so I won't end up sitting on it. I take a glimpse around the seats in the front of the bus, where I am. A boy sits, looking at the ground. His bag beside him, and a few food wrappers against his side-probably from the other kids. I suppose I'm not the only fool here.

I toss my backpack that sits beside me, on my lap. I open it, trying to find the rather large book I had brought. I reach my hand down into the second pocket. I pull out the fantasy book I'd been wanting to continue reading for months. I start reviewing my book, when the bus all of a sudden comes to a stop. The break was pushed down so hard-that my body flung back, hitting the seat, and my book had been tossed backwards.

The noise stops.

"Wha-What just happened?" The boy sitting on the seat beside me, asks. He fixes his nerdy glasses, and adjusts his red, curly hair.

"I am sorry for the sudden stop, everything is okay though!" The bus driver exclaims to all of the students.

The bus continues driving, as all of the ruckus behind me, begins again.

"Oh yeah, my book! Where'd it go?" I whisper hesitantly.

I look beside my seat, and down the aisle. But, there's nothing. I want to try and look underneath my seat, but the space between the seat, and the one in front of me is too small to squeeze into. I move my backpack on top of the seat, and fit my body through the space. I clutch lower, until I am able to see what's beneath.

"More disgusting wrappers..Ugh." I gasp. I move to the right, so the sticky fruit roll up won't touch me.

Looking lower, my eye catches the book, just 3 seats away. There's nothing I have-to try and reach in for it. I look around and see if anyone seems to notice me in such an obscure position, but everyone is turned facing the windows. I squat lower, and try fitting my whole body through. I finally make it. I stretch my arms outward, and begin to squeeze my way through-by crawling.

At this moment, I'm underneath someone's seat. Their shoes in my way, and I can't crawl any further. They'll notice me, and I'd make a fool out of myself. It was a bad idea. The bus was consecutively shaking, and it was hard to hold still.

I look forward-at the book. Wishing that the bus would make a sudden movement, and it would come rushing down to the front. I stare at it so intently, until I view a hand lowering just above it's surface.

"No, no, no!" I mutter. -But, the hand had already taken the book.

I close my eyes. My heart pounding so loud, that it might just pop out of my chest. A voice echoed behind me, throughout the bus.

"What little preppy princess's book is this?! A stupid fantasy reading for teens!", the voice chuckled as it changed the personal blurb on the back, to it's own disagreement. I began to shake, as whoever it was, showed their friends the book. Nobody knew it was mine. Maybe they would just suppose it was left there one day.

"'A Forest of Dreams!'" One person mimics. "I wonder which loser would read something like this! Ha ha." A low deep voice says.

I hold my backpack close to my chest, practically hugging it. I wish I could do something about this-but I don't have anybody to help me. I feel ashamed. I stare down at my dusty clothing, from crawling on the bus platform.

"I won't ever get it back.."-I whisper.

I'm almost so tense, that I could see the complexion of the veins in my arms. The bus ride feels as if it won't ever-end.