Chicago Year

Chapter 7: Boy in the window

Olivia: (earlier that day)

After school, I board the bus and look around for Dylan. He isn’t here yet.

I walk through the aisle, searching for a seat.

Everyone looks mean. Okay, maybe not mean, but they don’t look very friendly.

I sit in the first seat that I can find completely empty.

I hope nobody tries to sit by me.

I set my backpack on the ground as someone does sit in the seat next to me.

I’ll be honest; it made me jump a little, but when I turn to my seat-mate, it’s just Dylan.

“Oh, hey, you scared me.” I say smiling.

“You’re scared too easy.”

He doesn’t even look up; he’s trying to stuff papers into his backpack.

“So you’re not too cool to sit by your big sister?” I say, using a baby voice and pinching his cheeks.

“Ex-cuuse me,” he pushes my hands away, “I will have you know that I have made friends, but they don’t take this bus.” He stands up and turns around in the seat, scanning the rest of the passengers. “This bus is stupid.”

“Yeah, well, tell Dad that I should get my own car. Then I’ll drive you.” I say, dismissing his sassy boy comments.

It’s a school bus for crying out loud, of course it’s stupid, what is he expecting, a limo ride home?

He sits back down with a loud, exaggerated sigh and turns to me.

“So, how was your day?”

“Fine. How was yours?”

“Fine.”

He crossed his arms and slumped down in the seat.

The rest of the bus ride was uneventful, unless you call getting hit with someone’s spitball and stepping in gum an event.

I have a headache.

When we get home, Dylan rushes to his room, turns to me and says, “I’m doing homework,” then he slams the door. That was a really fast getaway, probably a new record for him. It’s okay; I’d like a little quiet, alone time.

I sit at the kitchen counter and try to think about what homework I have. Let’s see, I think there is only Spanish and Math. Sigh.

I don’t want to do homework right now. I’ll do it later this evening, or maybe just tomorrow morning, or maybe I can do it tomorrow at lunch. Spanish and Math are both in the afternoon.

I look in the fridge and pull out an apple to eat.

I don’t want to do homework. I hate homework. My head hurts.

Anyway, right now I sort of feel like a nap. Just today, I’ll take a nap. Tomorrow, and all the days after, I will be responsible and productive. But right now, I need sleep.