Looking up at the clock, the hands finally read three o’clock, the piercing sound of the school bell ringing, releasing my classmates and I from our first day of kindergarten. As I step outside the front doors, I see the long line of buses, which seems to infinitely extend into the distance. “Six”, I said to myself over and over, “find bus number six.” After walking for what I felt like eternity, I finally arrived at my bus. I managed to draw final breath of the heavy emission-polluted air as I looked up at the threatening yellow vehicle which towered over me. “God, this sucks” I thought to myself. “I don’t like this bus, I don’t like this school, and I don’t like these kids. I just want to go home”. But unfortunately, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. My first time riding a bus also happened to be in the week we moved into our new house. That wasn’t home to me, not yet at least. As I shyly made my way down the dreary aisle with what I felt were a hundred blood sucking little minions surrounding me, I carefully made sure not to make eye contact with any of the other students; I searched for an open seat. I settled in one towards the end of the bus, distancing myself from the rest of the children. I sat down and swung my backpack around to my side, letting it rest on the outside of the seat in an attempt to prevent anyone from sitting beside me
The bus began to move and my stomach started to turn. As the school drifted off into the distance, I found myself wishing that I were still standing outside the building which I so recently disliked. I occupied myself by continually rocking back and forth in my seat firmly, which caused the backrest to flex and make a loud popping sound as if it were a giant Snapple cap. This soon irritated the older, and thus superior, student across from me, who glared at me as if to demand that I sit still or else he would personally throw me out the window. I slunk back into my seat and focused my attention out the window.
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