alright, kids. i want you all to listen to me. rule number one no one is allowed to stick their fingers into the cages. i don't care how cute some of these animals may be, the fact is they don't like being here, no matter how many ribbons some of them have won.
good morning, wanda. hi, hartley.
well, it's certainly what you'd call interesting.
i didn't say that.
i'll just strap it on the roof.
oh, it's bizarre alright. c'mon bear. let's get you out of here.
the ottos always waited for the bus with bear. they were the only parents who did that, together like that. i guess they're what you might call hippies.
dolores. no one calls me 'mrs. driscoll'.
about the ottos?
i mean, the way they look. their hair and clothing.
no, nothing like that. the ottos are what i'd call model citizens. they're regular at town meetings. they give their opinions in a respectful way. they always help out at various fund-raising bazaars in town , though they aren't church goers.
oh yes. like i said, they always came out together to see him off to school. it's like he was their little treasure. he was such a beautiful boy. that's a picture of him on the wall there, behind abbott.
those are all from the fair last year. abbott and me were judges at the pet show.
he was one of those children that bring out the best in people. he would have been a wonderful man.
billy ansel started honking at us up around upper hat creek. he always started to do that when he caught up to the bus. he'd wave at his kids, jessica and mason, who always sat at
billy loved to see his kids in the bus. they always sat in the back, so they could wave to each other. it comforted him.
from what?
no, nothing like that. billy's wife, lydia, died of cancer a few years ago. he took over raising the children by himself. it was obvious how much he missed lydia.
no. i saw it on his face.
by the time i reached the bottom of bartlett hill road, i had half my load, over twenty kids, aboard.
they had walked to their places on the main road from the smaller lanes
and private roadways that run off it. bright little clusters of three and four children - like berries waiting to be plucked.
that's the way i thought of them sometimes.
yes. like i was putting them into my big basket. clearing the hillside of its children.
abbott and i used to do a lot of that in the spring.
yes. the old-fashioned way.
with our hands.
anyhow, my next stop was across from the bide-a-wile, which is owned and operated by risa and wendell walker.
he was behind all the other kids his age in school and was too fragile and nervous to play sports.
a strange little fellow, but you couldn't help liking him. he was close to ten but seemed more like a frightened five or six.
what do you mean?
that's right.
what do you mean?
the walkers loved sean. he was their only child. the object of all their attention. i mean, wendell's a withdrawn sort of man. that's his nature. but risa, she's still got dreams.
hi, risa. aren't your feet freezing?
is he okay?
but i never had 'those mornings' myself. not so long as i had the schoolbus to drive. not so long as i had my kids.
it emerged from the blowing snow on the right side of the road. it might have been a dog or a small deer or maybe even a lost child. it might have been an optical illusion or a mirage. whatever it was, for the rest of my life i will remember that red-brown blur.
i have a question for you, mr. stephens.
i told you that i was doing fifty miles an hour when the accident happened. that's how i remembered it. but the truth is, i might have been doing sixty. or sixty five. and if that's true, that i was over the limit when the bus went over, what would happen then?
because i'd be to blame, right?
he knows that? billy?
billy said that?
you've talked to billy?
and billy told you that he'll tell that to.
what other people?
who's been talking to you about what i'm feeling? who should care about what i'm feeling?
you heard what abbott said?
anything you didn't understand?
abbott said that the true jury of a person's peers is the people of her town. only they, the people who have known her all her life, and not twelve strangers, can decide her guilt or innocence. and if i have committed a crime, then it's a crime against them, so they are the ones who must decide my punishment.
yes. abbot understands these things.
he never took his eyes off his mother, even as he moved to sit beside nicole. he looked frightened.
i don't know. but it was weird in terms of what happened next. sean was still watching his mother.
i shut the door with one hand, and released the brake with the other, and waited for a second for risa to cross in front of the bus. there was a sixteen wheeler behind me, and i heard his air brakes hiss as the driver chunked into gear. i looked into the side view mirror, and saw him move into line behind me. then suddenly sean shrieked.
sean was all over me, scrambling across my lap to the window. i glimpsed risa off to my left, leaping out of the way of a red saab that seemed to have bolted out of nowhere.
sean! sit down! your mom's okay! now sit down!
you get his number?
she was shaken, standing there with her arms wrapped around herself.
she shook her head, turned away, and walked slowly back to the office. i drew a couple of breaths and checked sean, who was seated now but still craning and looking after his mother.
i remember wrenching the steering wheel to the right and slapping my foot against the brake petal. i wasn't the driver anymore.
the bus was like this huge wave about to break over us. bear otto, the lambston kids, the hamiltons, the prescotts, the teenaged boys and girls from bartlett hill, sean, nicole burnell, billy ansel's twins, jessica and mason. all the children of my town.