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There is an epilogue of sorts to my tale of the short bus, fortunately not as sad as the original tale. After I graduated from school my next-door neighbor and one of his friends decided to mix hunting with alcohol, never a bright choice. We never got a clear answer as to what happened because neither of the guys would admit to being intoxicated because neither of them wanted jail time, but the gist of the matter was that somehow they both ended up shot in the foot. This caused my driveway to become a parking lot of police cars and emergency medical vehicles for at least two hours. One of the young men who had ridden the bus with me to school also lived down the street from me… imagine my surprise when15 minutes into the ordeal the aforementioned young man shows up at my door. The ambulance and police cars had passed his house and his first thought was I was terribly sick or injured and so he took it upon himself to check on me. I was so shocked that it had even occurred to him to check on me that I almost cried. I went through most of high school believing that almost nobody cared if I existed or not. I suppose I got a wake-up call about how wrong I was. I shouldn’t have been surprised, it was one of the anger management boys after all.
