bus rides.

lily.

I hate choosing seats. In classrooms, buses, trains even the doctor's waiting room. Honestly, I gives me anxiety. I always sit at the front of the bus. Near the driver, near the door. So that when it stops, I don't have to sprint to make it to the door.

I have decided I depise that boy. He's a real twat. I hate him. He hasn't done much to me but to me, first impressions are everything.

He chose to sit at the very back. I peeked over my shoulder to see where he sat. Don't judge me. Like you haven't ever paid close attention to a boy before. What can I say, I'm intrigued by the boy I hate.

As we go through Main Street I can't help but smile. I've always liked our town. Cosy, familiar and comforting. I don't like going to new places that much. I'll tag along with friends but it doesn't interest me. I'd rather sit at home with a good book, curled up with my cat.

My thoughts go back to the boy.I can feel his eyes on me. I try to ignore it. But I surrender to myself almost instantly. I slowly, discreetly look behind. He's already looking. Well, glaring. I snap my head back to the front, focusing on the small tear on the side of the driver's shirt as my cheeks turn scarlet.

Looking out the glass window, I watch the view of trees and shrubbery blur into a world of green as the bus goes faster and faster.

Finally, it screeches to a stop. I quickly get up, gathering my things and out the door. Just as I exit the bus, my foot catches on the door and I stumble off the bus. To hide my clumsiness, I act as if I'm skipping off the bus. As if I'd ever actually do that. I yell a thanks to the driver as the doors screech closed.

Well, that was fun. Not. In the distance, I can hear the faint sound of my newborn brother crying.