See You at Harry's(13)

I stay turned around, staring at the jerks. It’s funny because I realize they look alike. Thing One and Thing Two. I stare at them and hope they feel my hate burning their skin.

Thing One holds his jaw with a hurt-puppy look on his face.

“You’ll regret that,” Thing Two says.

I raise my aching fist at him. “You leave my brother alone,” I say.

“Oooooh. I’m scared.”

“You should be.”

He laughs. “You’re the one who should be scared. You and your queer brother. I can’t believe he needs a little kid to stand up for him. What a wuss.”

Thing One doesn’t say anything. Maybe my fist managed to do some damage. My fist sure throbs enough. Still, it seems to ache more with the desire to smash Thing Two’s nose.

The Things whisper threats in my ear all the way to school. No one sits with me, even though the bus is packed by the time we make the last pickup. I have no idea what the Things are doing behind my back, but I’m sure it’s not pretty. I hold my backpack tightly, ready to make a run for it as soon as we get to school. But everyone is up before me, and it’s obvious no one is going to let me out of my seat.

I sit back and wait, my cheeks burning. Day two at school and I’ve officially made enemies with everyone on the bus.

When it’s finally my turn to get up, I walk slowly, not knowing what I’ll face when I get off. When I reach Trudy, she puts out her hand to stop me. I’m afraid to look her in the eye, so I concentrate on her ugly hat instead. It’s grimy and the pom-pom hardly has any yarn left on it.

“You watch yourself, missy,” she says. “I know your type. Your brother, too. Troublemakers. I don’t stop my bus ’less someone’s bleeding normally, but if I see you act up again, you’ll be off my bus in a heartbeat.”

I feel my mouth drop open in shock.

She makes a face, imitating me.

We stare at each other like that for a few seconds. Then she moves her pink wrinkled arm, and I nearly fall down the steep steps trying to get away.

Ran’s waiting for me at my locker.

“What happened to you?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he says, eyeing me up and down. “You look awful. Why are your ears bright red?”

Ran is wearing a brown shirt that says DIG IT in green letters.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He keeps looking at me anyway. Like Charlie, he knows if he just waits long enough, I’ll cave. But I know he’ll be disappointed in me if I tell him what I did. Ran is a pacifist. He knows the art of ignoring bullies. I guess Holden does, too.

I hold my sore fist in my other hand.

“I’m fine,” I say.

He tilts his head a little to study me.

“OK,” he says, as if he knows I’m lying.

He turns to leave. The back of his shirt says COMPOST FOR A CURE, and underneath is a picture of the planet with a Band-Aid on it. As I watch him walk away, I wish he’d come back. I wait for him to turn around, but he just keeps walking.

At the end of school, I walk slowly to my line for the bus. I swear Trudy gives me the evil eye when I get on. The dirty pom-pom on her hat tips to one side. And the TRUDY TRUDY TRUDY letters feel like a chant. Trudy’s gonna get ya. I don’t know why she hates me. I’m not the one who started it. What about the ear pinging? What about how those jerks treated Holden? She didn’t seem to mind that.

As I walk past, I look down at the dirty aisle floor. I mean to sit in the third row again, like Holden made me promise, but my legs have other ideas and I’m heading to the back of the bus for more torture. Maybe Holden and I are more alike than I thought.

Things One and Two take their seats behind me. They lean over and grunt in my ears before they sit down.

I look out the window at all the other students waiting in line for the sane buses.

I lean forward and squeeze the straps of my backpack. Exactly fourteen stops before my house. Thirteen. Twelve. The Things don’t bother me again, but I swear I can feel their silent insults stinging the back of my head. As we come up over the hill to my house, I slide over to the edge of my seat. But Trudy doesn’t slow down. “Hey! You missed the stop!” someone yells.

But the bus keeps chugging down the hill. When we get to the very bottom, she slows and pulls over. I get up and walk down the aisle, careful to watch the floor in case someone sticks out a foot to trip me.

“Sorry ’bout that. Didn’t even see you there,” Trudy says when I get to the front of the bus.

I start to step down, but she still hasn’t opened the door.

“Guess I’m used to looking for your brother,” she says in a high-pitched, lispy way just like the Things did when they were talking “gay.”

I’m too shocked to reply. The door swings open, and I jump off.

Was this legal? Could she do this? I shake my head as the bus pulls away. Then I look up the long, gradual hill I have to climb. It’s September and it’s still hot. I stand there, listening to the bus drive away. I wonder if Trudy is checking her mirror to see if I’m walking up the hill yet. Maybe I’ll get kidnapped, then rescued somehow. Then my parents could sue Trudy.

As I start to walk, my eyes fill with tears. I feel like a big baby for being so upset, but it really does hurt to be wronged. It hurts so much.