The bus rides confused him. He wasn’t sure if it was the best part of his day, or the worst. On one hand, it was the last moments he had before he got to the park, before he had to put on his jumpsuit and get to work. He cherished those moments, relaxing, trying to get out of his own head. And, it was the time he got to spend with Alice; he could live on those short couple of minutes. But on the other hand, every time he got on that bus, he was reminded of what he did and why he was on his way to the park. Every time he sat down, the event played over and over in his head. God, he thought, it was only one punch, one goddamn punch. Troy was tormenting Jared about his pants. They were tight and pink and Troy had followed Jared around all day calling him faggot or fairy or c-sucker. And Jared, he just stood there and took it. He couldn’t stand there and watch anymore, something just built up inside him, something he couldn’t control. It was like he was a bottle of vinegar and someone had just poured baking soda all over him. He exploded. His fist connected with Troy’s face and Troy’s head reverberated off the wall of lockers. He didn’t do that much damage, just a concussion and a broken jawbone, but Troy’s dad, man, he was furious. He couldn’t believe something like this could happen to his poor baby Troy. So they pressed charges and took him to court and now here he was serving his 200 hours of community service. He has to report to Westlake Park every morning to pick up trash, clean the bathrooms, and mow the grass. It’s no fun job but he’s getting through it. 50 hours down, 150 to go, and all because of one stupid, little punch. He sat in his usual seat at the back of the bus and slid on his headphones. Today would be his 8th day of service, but it seemed like he had been working at the park for weeks. Music helped to put a damper on his thoughts during his long bus ride. He especially liked music with short dramatic pauses like Make Me Smile by Cockney Rebel or Radio Song by R.E.M. The music would be flowing and then it would suddenly stop; the tension would build and then, just for a second, you would wonder if the music was ever going return. And, just a moment later, the melody would come streaming back. He felt so many different feelings just in that one second of pause. He was sitting on the bus, eyes closed, listening to Blister in the Sun by the Violent Femmes waiting for the pause that he knew would come. The music went into a crescendo and right when he expected that one moment of pure silence to appear, he heard, “Samuel?” There she was, Alice, the small pixie like girl with the brown curly hair. He felt a small grin spread across his face as she slid in beside him. Sure, she could be a little annoying at times, but she was growing on him. “Not Samuel? Ok, what about Sawyer? Spencer?” He smiled and shook his head, letting his black bangs fall in front of his face. He didn’t know why he didn’t tell her his name. He liked this little game that they played, she would guess and he would say no. If she knew, she would stop trying to find out, stop sitting next to him. He saw her dig a green Post-it note out of her pocket where she had scribbled down even more names. “Sean? Silas? Seth? Sergio?” “No, no, no, and come on, Sergio?” “It was worth a try. Oh well, I’ll have more tomorrow. Next time, I promise you, I’ll get it.” She actually hadn’t guessed his name yet, but he wondered if she did, if he would tell her. He started to put his headphones back on, thinking that their conversation was done for the day, but she reached up and pulled them out of his hands. “Hey,” she said. “We’re talking here.” “Oh, sorry, what did you want to talk about?” “Well, I never asked you, where do you go everyday on this bus S. Stewart? Where does it take you?” He faltered. He didn’t know what to tell her. Sure, they had had some light, fun conversations on the bus, but he didn’t want to scare her away. She was the only person he knew who didn’t judge him for what he had done. All the kids at school hated him for damaging the school’s golden boy and whenever his parents looked at him, he saw disappointment in their eyes. But she didn’t know what had happened, he could have a clean slate with Alice. “Work,” he stuttered a little bit. “I’m going to work.” It wasn’t a lie exactly, but it wasn’t the truth either. “And where do you work?” she asked, making a ‘please continue’ motion with her hand. “Westlake Park? It’s down on 4th Avenue.” “Oh yeah, my parents used to take me there when I was little. I used to love the playground, I could go on those swings forever.” He nodded, hoping his decision not to tell her wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass. “Well,” she said. “Here’s my stop. Time to get back to all of my books. Have fun at work!” She jumped out of her seat and ran over to the exit, the bus still in motion. Before she got off, she looked back at him; she always looked back to give him a wave or a smile. This time she winked. When he asked her about it, she had said, “I never got why people always say ‘don’t look back.’ What if something happens to me? What if the world ends in the next five minutes? I would have wanted to have my one last look.”

“What about her?” Alice asked, slyly pointing to an old woman sitting across from them. She was covered in everything leopard print and was wearing huge white sunglasses. “Where is she going?”

“She’s on her way to go shopping of course,” S. Stewart responded. “She hasn’t got enough animal print.” Alice laughed her huge belly laugh, gaining them angry stares from the people around them.

“No,” Alice responded. “I think she’s going to visit her grandchildren. Or maybe she’s going to the pound to look for her lost dog.”

“Or maybe, she’s on her way to murder her ex-husband for cheating on her with a 26 year old medical student.” She shoved him against the window and they huddled together, trying to silence their laughter. Alice had started to look forward to these bus rides more than she did her actual job. S. Stewart never failed to be waiting for her in their seats at the back of the bus, his backpack set down on the seat next to him, saving it for her. He made her laugh. They talked about anything, their favorite books and movies, what they wanted to be when they grew up, the odd people that accompanied them on the bus. Their conversations were never forced; they just flowed without any effort. She didn’t work on the weekends and she felt the void of his presence without her bus ride. She had started to look forward to the weekdays instead of the weekends.

It was Monday and the summer was almost over. He sat in his chair, cradling his head in his hands. He had messed up. He should have told her, god, he really should have told her. He moved his fingers up into his hair and pulled, groaning. He remembered yesterday in the park, he worked on weekends, trying to finish his hours as soon as possible. He was picking up trash near the playground with a long metal spear. He always missed her when he rode the bus on the weekends; it felt like something was wrong, like maybe he had forgotten to wear shoes that day. While he tried to spear a particularly stubborn Mc Donald’s wrapper, he thought about the new list of names she would surely have for him tomorrow. His favorites so far were Scooby and Sherlock. He had finally managed to get the wrapper into his large black trash bag when he saw her. Alice was standing about twenty feet away on the grass, just staring at him. He watched her take in his orange jump suit complete with a serial number plastered against his chest. Her face contorted in confusion and after a couple of seconds it turned into understanding, and then settled into a mixture of sadness and anger. He ran over to her but when he got to her, he didn’t know what to say.

“I…I” he stuttered, looking down at his feet. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, I thought I would try to see you outside of the bus. But I guess that wasn’t the best idea.”

“No, it’s just” he paused, gathering his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I don’t technically work here. I was assigned here, for my community service.”

“Oh, so like assigned…by a judge?” he nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have judged you or anything.”

“Yes you would have. Everyone does.”

“I guess we never really got to know each other on that bus. How many hours did we spend together? I can’t even count them. And, wow, I don’t even know your name! We were in a bubble, a stupid little bus bubble.” She sighed and brought her hand to her forehead, calming herself. “I don’t care what you did or why you’re here. It’s just… I thought that I had found someone that I could tell anything to. And I thought that you could tell me anything in return. I guess I just read the whole situation wrong,” said wiping her sweaty hands on her jeans. “It can’t work on the outside, can it?”

“We can make it work,” he started to say, but she had already started to walk away. “Alice! Alice, come on! Come back!” But she was gone.

Alice stood outside of the bus, for the first time feeling like she did not want to get on. The driver looked at her and raised his eyebrows, asking if she was planning on moving anytime soon. She took a deep breath in and stepped onto the bus. She saw him. He was there in their usual spot. They stared at each other for what seemed like ten minutes, and then she sat down, but not next to him. She sat at the front, next to a lady with a small puppy on her lap. She could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to look at him. This one bus ride was the longest she had ever been on; his eyes burning into the back of her head and her eyes focused intently on her shoes. Finally the bus reached her stop and when she looked up from the floor, he was standing right in front her. She tried to walk around him, but he put his hands on her shoulders to stop her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He pulled a warn envelope and out of his jean pocket and handed it to her. “Just take it.” She took the envelope from his hand and stared at her name, which had been written in messy script across the top. She slipped it open and pulled out a small piece of paper, only containing one word. She smiled to herself and slipped the paper into her own pocket. She walked down the steps toward the exit, but before she stepped off the bus, she looked back at him and gave him a small, sad smile that he returned.

“Simon,” she whispered to herself as she walked out the door. She repeated the name, liking the way it sounded coming off her tongue. “Simon Stewart.”