Bus stop Buddies

May 27, 2008
By Shavon Pratchett, Pittsburgh, PA

“My knock off looks a hell of a lot better than her bag, and hers is real…she don’t even match…”I took my attention off of the lean female with the beat up Gucci bag and glanced in the opposite direction to see if my bus was coming. The sun shines a glare in my eyes as I desperately squint to see the goldish letters across the top of the bus approaching my bus stop. When the bus got close enough where I could see, I come to find out it’s not my bus. “What is taking this bus so long?” At this point I’m starting to get irritated. I was supposed to be home about twenty minutes ago, and knowing the route for the 33A, there’s no telling when the next bus is going to be here. I bet my father’s probably tallying every minute I’m late until I get there right now. A small pack of dudes stood at the corner preparing to cross the street. None of them seem to be paying me any attention, and notice that I’m hard down staring at each one of them. One of them was actually cute. The others were fairly decent. The light changed and they all walked across the street. I fumble a bit in my purse so I wouldn’t look stupid just staring in their direction for no apparent reason. I peeped up from time to time as they were getting closer, and I swear the cute one was peeping back. But I doubt it; no one wanted a girl like me. When they passed by me, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned my neck around to see a girl, not much older than me, holding a baby. She looked like she used to be beautiful, before stress and sleep deprivation got to her.

“Did you see the 33A pass by?”
She juggled baby bags, a baby, and Rainbow shopping bags. Life’s rough for teen mothers.

“No, that’s the bus that I’m waiting for too. It’s taking forever.” The tone in my voice didn’t frighten her enough for her to shut up and leave me alone.
“How long have you been waiting?” One half of me want to just walk away because she begin to irk my nerves. I knew I couldn’t miss this bus though.
“About twenty minutes.” a sigh flew out of my mouth to give her the sign that I’m getting fed up with her question game.
“One should be coming then, but knowing these buses, they come whenever they want.”

I heard her comment, but I just didn’t want to reply. It killed me how random people at bus stops thinks it’s okay to talk to me. Just because were getting on the same bus doesn’t mean that were friends. I bet she has more friends than me though. I bet she has someone to care for her. I mean she might be a nice person and all but truthfully, were not on the same level. I’m pretty and talented, that should tell it all. After nodding my head, I turned back around to wait for the bus that was taking forever. The fact that I had to be home almost a half an hour ago just came back to my attention. Ever since my father finally put his foot down, he’s been annoying me. Out of nowhere, I now have a curfew. He’s trippin’. If he weren’t dangling the fact that he’s buying my car over my head, I wouldn’t dare catch the first 33A home. Well in today’s case, the second bus because I’m already a half and hour late, and this bus is starting to frustrate me. This is where I really wish I would have my car right about now. My father was serious about the budget. I don’t know what the big deal is when I plan to pay for everything. All he had to do was buy the car. A bunch of people from my school turned the corner and walked towards the bus stop I stood at.

“These kids nowadays are so immature.” A lady with drawn on eyebrows said loud enough for only me to hear. I faced her to agree, but in the back of my mind, I wish to be immature with them.

“Are you waiting for the 33A?” I couldn’t believe she had the nerve to judge “kids nowadays” when she woke up and decided to finger paint on her face. Those kids aren’t being immature, their all having fun. If I didn’t have to be home, I’ll be having fun right along with them. We’ll not with them because they’re all awkward looking in a way. The big girl just stood out, and so does the only boy with pink hair, I mean who would actually die their hair pink, it’s just al around tacky. Just like this lady with the fake eyebrows. The one girl look like she’s lost because she’s dressed in Hollister gear from her neck down while the others look liked they got dressed by a seeing eye dog. The ‘Immature kids’ got closer to the bus stop, and I recognized most of their faces from school.

“Yea. The bus is pretty late.” I shoot back at the lady. . I’m bored as hell at this bus stop with no one to talk to. No one who cares for me enough to ask me how’s my day, or why am I so anger always. I wonder if that girl ever dropped her baby I wonder if the lady thinks she looks cute. I don’t, but who cares what I think beside myself; do I matter. I wonder where my father’s think I am. I wonder were this bus is. My patience is running short. I glared down the street once more. But this time I had a little more attitude. The sun was annoying me. That lean lady with the jacked up purse was irking me. She walked past the stop again digging in her purse. I checked my watch. Three buses were due by now, and I haven’t seen one yet.

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