Empty Chair

Chapter Two

Chapter Two 

“Are you coming over to my house for the sleepover this Saturday?” Bridget looked at me with a longing expression. Her brown hair whipped in the wind from the window.

“I don't know, my dad has to work, my mom is going to one of those pregnancy yoga thingies, and my Aunt can’t take me because she has to go to something called the “AA” I think,” I said with an apologetic tone while trying to speak without screaming over other kids voices on the school bus. I could barely hear Bridget who in fact was now yelling at the boy that -I'm pretty sure he has a crush on me, all of my other friends say so- kept staring at us.

After screaming at the boy Bridget looked to me and huffed. “That's not fair. We're almost at the end of 5th grade. We're going to be 12 years old and in the 6th grade in middle school. Your parents should have planned this whole “having another baby” thing after the one of the most important years of your life.”

I smiled at her, typical Bridget. “They didn't exactly plan for the baby; it was kind of a surprise.”

Bridget looked from glaring at a boy to me. “When is the baby due?”

“Um…I don't know, like in a few months? My parents have been really anxious lately and are always trying to assure me that they “will still love me” and “will pay attention to me” when the baby is born.” I rolled my eyes remembering it, “It was sweet at first, but now it’s just getting annoying.”

Bridget smiled and patted my shoulder, “It is sweet. Just be glad that they even think of how you feel.” when she said the last part she frowned. I then remembered about her life at home, it wasn't so great; her parents never pay attention to her. Only her big brother does; every time he comes to town from college, he spoils her with gifts and attention because he knows that she doesn't get it otherwise. I felt bad for my best friend.

I considered it, “I guess.”

“Is the baby a boy or a girl?”

“My mother says it’s a boy. I was hoping for a baby sister, but it’s not like I get to choose.” I chuckled.

Just as Bridget opened her mouth to respond, another voice chimed in. “Oh my gosh! It’s a boy?!” Margaret shrieked. She always has a big white smile, much like the one she is wearing right now. Her curly blonde hair bounced around wherever she moved.

“Um, yeah.” I said surprised at her presence. She always popes up when you least expect it and does it without anyone noticing her in advance.

As if taking an unsent invitation to our conversation, my friend Alex popped out from where he was sitting and squirmed his way in between Bridget and me. He never really understood the concept of personal space. “So your mom is popping out a boy?” he spoke so fast it took me a few seconds process what flew out of his mouth; he must have had candy, he always has a fast tongue when he's had some type of sugar. But before I could respond, Margaret glared at the freckled, red haired boy and spat, “Do you think before you speak? I swear that every word comes out of your mouth...” I stopped listening to what she was saying because this happens all the time, they get into a big argument, storm off away from each other. Then they tell their friends about how mad they are, but can’t stay that way because they both have a crush on the other one. I find it to be completely pathetic. Every time I get close to getting Alex to confess to Margaret, they get into another argument. I’ve stopped my attempts because it’s no use and not worth my time.

I looked out of the bus window and saw that we were coming up to my stop. I put my jacket on and slung my backpack over one shoulder. I got up from my seat when the bus came to a pause at my stop. “Bye guys!” I said as I walked down the aisle to the door of the school bus. When I got out, I started to walk up the road to my driveway when I heard all three of my closest friends shout their goodbyes from the small space the bus window allowed you to open it to. I smiled at them and turned toward the direction of my destination, I heard the school bus pick up speed down the opposite road.