Chapter 3

I'm sitting on the bus, coming back from my art class. Like most nights, I'm the only one riding. My legs are propped in front of me.

I rest my head on the cold window, looking outside at the silent night.

I've past my station awhile ago, but I like riding the bus at night. It calms me, and I don't want to go home and not fall asleep and again have to deal with my stupid thoughts. I breath heavily and close my eyes. I feel the bus stop and hear the door open. I hear the footsteps of someone walking toward me. I crack open one eye and freeze.

Why now? Oh God, why now?

Clay is sitting in the seat across the aisle from me. He has earphones on and-wait, is that a tape? Why the fuck would Clay be listening to a tape. He shifts in his seat. He looks really focused on something. I don't know if to say something and acknowledge him of my being there or not. It would be weird if I just keep staring at him. I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

Come on Skye, seriously?

I clench my fists and feel my nails dig into my skin. I swallow hard and take a deep breath.

"Miss your stop, Clay?" I croak.

What is wrong with my voice.

"Hey Skye."

If he noticed my voice, he doesn't show it.

He's expression is distant, as if his mind is somewhere else .I will myself to speak. "Miss your house? He'll stop if you ask him to." That's the most I've spoken to him in a long time. He shakes his head. My face feels so hot I'm sure he can feel the heat radiating from my skin. We sit a few minutes in silence and then the driver stops the bus and calls: "Anyone?" None of us answers so the bus continues on.

"Where are you going?" Clay asks me.

I smirk. 'I'm asking myself the same question,' I think.

I decide to answer truthfully. "I'm not going anywhere." Am I annoying him? I'm not sure. Clay is one of the few people I can't read. I think I am, because he doesn't say anything. He looks like he wants to leave but doesn't want to be impolite. I spare him the trouble. "See you tomorrow."

I hope that he will say something. Maybe try to start a real conversation.

But he doesn't.

"See you later," is all he says and gets off the bus. I watch him walk outside and put his earphones back on. I close my eyes and relax my head against the window. I feel so disappointed but I don't know why.

It's not like I expected us to have an actual conversation. Sure, yeah, Clay used to like me but it's not the same anymore.

Why would he want to talk to you?

It was stupid to get my hopes up. I check my phone to see if I have any texts from dad wondering where I am. None. He's probably having another late night at work.

I know I should get home. It's getting late and I'll fall asleep here if I don't get off. But I don't want to leave the comfort of the bus. I sit there a few minutes, stalling, and then I heave myself off the leathery chair of the bus.

"Can you stop here, please?"

The bus lurches to a stop and I step off. I take a deep breath of fresh cool air and feel thankful for my sweatshirt and sweatpants. I have no idea where I am but I don't panic. I go to the end of the road to check what street it is. The sign reads: Rosewood. It's fine, I know how to get home from here. I start walking and it feels good. The night is silent, except for the occasional cars. The air is chilly and I feel a cool wind fluttering my hair. The exercise feels refreshing. I haven't felt that in a long time.