Missed My Stop

Chapter One: You Can't Kick Me Out I Have Rights

I hate story telling.

From gossips, news, books, and even oral reports. Ever since that day, I haven't told a decent story since I was seven. So I had the honor to be the worst story teller in my family.

My family treasures storytelling. And as a yearly tradition, the whole family gathers to the oldest member of the family's house for the family reunion, in this case my grandmother, and we tell the stories of what happened to us over the year. Some would be hilarious, touching, or even scary. But I'm not there to listen to them because if you attend the reunion, you have to tell a story. So that's why I haven't gone to a single reunion for thirteen years.

So why am I going to the reunion after thirteen years?

I asked myself the same thing. I sighed and looked out the bus window. I just want the stupid reunion to get over with.

"Thank you for using Whindler Bus Services as your transportation," an automated female voice announced. "And we hope you have a safe trip."

The bus started to move, going over a few speed bumps. I sat next to a mother holding her brawling baby.

She gave me an apologetic smile for her kid. "I'm sorry you have to travel with the crying. My baby's a bit cranky for not getting much sleep."

I nodded. "It's fine."

"You don't mind?" She asked.

"I have a really big family. Little cousins, nieces, nephews from the ranges of newborns to teens. This is nothing compared to the chaos at home."

She sighed with relief. "Oh, I'm glad."

I smiled back. "Besides, it's not your fault this little guy's cranky." I waggled my finger in front of the baby playfully.

"She's a girl."

I stiffened and awkwardly chuckled. "Oh."

I put on my earphones on and played some music on my phone to tune out the kid's crying. It was almost out of battery, but I would reach the house before I needed to charge it. I have a fear of heights, so I didn't want to take the plane to Los Angeles. I much rather be on the safe ground than up many miles up in the air. I sent my luggage ahead to the house since I didn't want to lug it around wherever I go. I've done this many times. All I have to do is take a bus from New York to Chicago, then take a train the rest of the day. I'll show up to the reunion, then head home before it's my turn to tell a story.

Feeling a bit bored, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I have bright green eyes and long, wavy light brown hair. I'm not that pretty or that ugly, just an average. Bit average doesn't get you anywhere since I haven't had a boyfriend since... forever. I have a good tan, I jog daily and I also box since a girl like me should be able to defend herself.

I started to nod off to sleep, listening to the my music that's been put on shuffle. I silently mouthed the lyrics to the song, not wanting to bother the baby that finally fell asleep. A yawn escaped my mouth as my eyelids became heavy. Before I knew it, I was fast asleep.

Someone violently shook my shoulder. "Hey, wake up!"

My eyes shot open. "I'm awake!"

"You better be. This is the last stop."

I rubbed my eyes. "What do you mean last stop?"

My eyes focused, and I found myself staring at the burly bus driver.

"This is the last stop, sweetheart," he said. "I'm gonna have to kick you out."