The students climb on the bus, walking slowly, scanning the grimy, scarred seats for a place to rest their tired bodies after a long day of thinking. The consistent flow stops as a tall, lanky boy begs the driver for a ride, though he lacks a pass. Gossip and talking fills the air like the hum of a heater; it's always there, people just get so used to it that it never seems to register in their minds. Girls in tight t-shirts and hip-hugging jeans chatter about the new boy, who is "so fine", with his bleached blond hair and chocolate brown eyes, and piercings everywhere imaginable on his head. Boys talk about the girl who they believe is easy, loudly, trying to embarrass her, as she sits, dreaming on about an older man who may make her happy with his tough, macho attitude. Seniors, arrogant and boastful, with broad shoulders and short, spiky hair, bellow swear words at the freshman, trying to get them to move from the rear seats, where only seniors are supposed to be allowed, though no one ever listens to them. The silent, lonely kids stare out the window, pretending to be someplace else, away in the dreamland of their minds. Boys and girls with various piercings bob their heads in time to the angry words pumping from their headphones. Girls, already looking perfect, fluff their hair and reapply heavy lipstick. Outside the bus, adults, large yet powerless, pretending to be authority figures, stumble towards a group of girls in a cat fight over stolen lipstick, or nail polish, or a boy, or something insignificant of that sort. As the engine revs and the bus slowly pulls out of the waiting zone, it swerves, narrowly missing a dreary gray VW Bug; which probably feels - next to this huge, intense yellow bus – as miniscule and insignificant as a person could feel, caught up in this crowd of endless, unreliable faces.
