A bus is waiting outside the blue school doors on a cold fall day. Leaves crinkle and blow away in packs across the parking lot and I step on one and the broken pieces remain together, hanging on the pavement where they were stopped. The dark green pleather bus seat has a burn mark on the back and I stick my finger in it and squish the foam on the inside. I am reminded that this covered foam shield is my seat belt should anything happen to the bus. I wonder how good of a job it would do if the bus slammed into a wall; how my cheek bones would hold up thrown against this barrier.

Others get on the bus and a near stranger sits next to me. He is a grade above me but I am not intimidated. He is quiet and wears glasses and sits on the edge of the seat holding his backpack over his lap as if I would try to pry it away from him. I huddle close to the window as the bus begins to move and I watch the sidewalk as it rolls slowly by. I rest my head on the cold window and feel the bumps in the road.

My breath clouds the glass in a small circle; the bus turns a corner and I wipe away the condensation so that I can see him. There is a boy walking home down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. His Asics tennis shoes circle off the ground and clap the pavement and he walks with his head down as if moving through an invisible doorway that is too short for him. I watch the fall breeze ruffle his straight, brown hair like the down beneath a bird’s flight feathers.

The bus turns another corner and the front passenger wheel dips carelessly into a pothole hidden in dead leaves and the bus lurches momentarily. My right temple is smacked into the window and the boy disappears from sight as the bus continues on its way. The bump on my head solidifies but I look back out the window and smile thinking that he might look up from the sidewalk someday.

Luciana, 25