“Child single please.”
The coins clatter into the ticket dispenser and with two quick prods on his monitor the driver prints my ticket. I rip the paper away and find myself a seat.
I’m never quite sure where to sit when I get on a bus. The front seats are usually reserved for either the very old or the very young and the furthest back seats for the very creepy, so normally I at least know my boundaries. Being both alone and probably somewhat vulnerable, I naturally gravitate towards the emptier spaces, and so I find myself in a place quite near the back.
I throw myself into the backwards-facing seat and immediately plug my headphones into my ears. My music has been playing since I was at the bus stop so I’m thrown into the middle of a song as I stare out of the window to my left.
Another thing I’m not sure about on buses is just quite how I manage to while away the time. By the time I jump off whatever bus and toss myself back into real life it seems like nothing, but when you’re actually sitting on a bus by yourself, in the space between your house and your destination, time moves so slowly. I’ve never understood how everyone travelling solo on buses, surrounded by other peoples’ lives, manage to stay sane in this weird, surreal mutual silence. Especially someone like me; someone so insanely boring and bland – I don’t know quite how I survive in such a busy world.
I am suddenly thrown back into real life when I hear a murmur behind my music. I pull my sight away from the bus window and look straight ahead, met with the unfamiliar view of another person in front of me. I gently tug one earphone out.
“I’m sorry, d-did you…?” I can feel my cheeks burning up. I am definitely not used to social interactions with strangers on buses.
The girl opposite me grins, flashing bright white teeth against pale skin. I don’t recognise her – I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen her on this bus before anyway.
“What’s your name?” she questions, voice soft but lively. She’s leaned in slightly, hands on her knees. I’m pretty sure if I had seen her before, I would remember her.
It takes me a moment to realise that I have been staring at her short quiffed hair for the past few seconds and obviously not answering her question. “Olivia,” I murmur timidly. Awkward laugh. Probably slightly creepy smile.
She grins. Obviously my lack of social skills is enough to make anyone smile, which is more than can be said for anything else I do. “That’s a nice name,” she replies. “What are you listening to?”
“What? Oh,” I stutter, fumbling in my pocket for my iPod. Wait, no. I know what this is. Why am I looking for my iPod? “Joy Division,” I recall. I force another smile in a weak endeavour to look more together and interesting.
“Sweet. Is this seat taken?”
Luckily this time I know what I’m doing. “No, of course not. I mean, I’m not with anyone anyway.”
“Nice. I’m Kennedy by the way,” she grins, offering a hand to shake. I take her hand in mine and shake, smiling. “What are you up to today?”
I have never been asked so many consecutive questions by a stranger before – well, I suppose now we know each other’s names. “I’m just heading into town to meet with some people. I don’t think I’ll do much. Just follow them around shops. Uh, what about you?”
Kennedy smiles and sits back, tossing her left foot upon her right knee. I watch as her hair bounces to the rhythm of the bumps in the road. “Something exciting, hopefully. I’m just tired of sitting around and letting life run ahead, you know?”
