Hi! I really need feed back on this because it's for my school newspaper and seniors are going to read this and I have this inward fear of them. So plzzzzzzzzz tell the truth of whether this is total nonsense or not because if it is, this would embarrass me in front of the whole school (especially with the seniors) and I really need outside critique. Thanks!

I was outside when someone called my mother. It turned out to be Miss. Silver, my bus driver from the third grade. My mother said that she

wanted to drive me and some other kids who lived near me to my school, which was about twenty five minutes away. But that wasn't enough

information for me.

"Why would she remember us?" I pestered my mother, while she was sorting the laundry. She only cast a light smile at me and carried it away.

My mother is a strange woman. So I decided to do some detective work on my own. However, when I realized that her phone number wasn't in

our phone book and my friends barely remembered her, I decided to put down the case and wait for school to begin.

The first day of school was a pleasant sort of day, plain and colorless yet the temperature was just right. When I climbed into my bus, I flashed

a smile at the driver who waved cheerily back with a sort of strained smile. She had circles under her dark eyes and her pale blond hair hung

limply down. At one glance, I knew that there was something wrong with this lady.

"You can sit wherever you want dear," she creaked open a smile. I sat in the front and picked up a little package that was lying on the seat as

well as on other seats. In it was a warm chocolate-chip cookie with a card that said:

Hello, my name is Miss. Silver and I shall be your bus driver for this year.

Have a good day at school!

None of my bus drivers have ever done that, not even Miss. Silver herself when I had her for third grade. It looked like she was sugaring up to

us a bit. But on the other hand, it's the first day of school and sometimes adults can act a little bit funny on first days. I shrugged it off. However,

when she gave out pieces of fruit cake the next day, I thought that there must be something wrong with her. But this day, Miss. Silver looked

fine. Her hair was still limp, but she didn't have those circles under her eyes. Maybe she was nervous on the first day? But that seemed unlikely.

When I got on the bus, it was her who smiled at me and I simply gave a wave. During the ride, when I was lazily looking out of the window,

there was a little bump and right after that, a sudden stop. I was a bit startled, we were in the middle of a little road, surrounded by trees, and

with no houses by it. Miss. Silver got out of the bus and into the road, shaking. Then she got back in the bus and said tremblingly,

"That was nothing, I guess. My tires haven't been working so well lately so I came to check on them," she muttered, as if she didn't really want

us to hear. A car had rolled up behind us and started to beep loudly. Then, Miss. Silver started the engine, and the bus continued to move.

These incidents continued over the next few days. Miss. Silver would keep on stopping the bus to check on the front wheels. But why couldn't

she just get them fixed? And why is she only checking on the front wheels? Why not the back? I thought to myself, annoyed that we were always

late to school. One day, before school, while waiting for the van together on the bus stop, the kids held a meeting. There were five of them

other than me, Rachel, Sarah, Hannah, Joseph, and Alex. Sarah couldn't come that day.

"Why does Miss. Silver keep checking on the wheels?" wondered seven year old Alex aloud. He was a short little guy, with bright blond hair and

incurably talkative.

"We are late every day," Rachel, my best friend, said pointedly, "should we tell Miss. Silver?"

"But I've already told her," said Joseph, a tall fifth grader, "but then she switched the topic to my day at school."

"How about we fire her?" offered Alex.

"Of course not! Where would she find another job? It's too late to find another family!" I burst out at him.

"And who else would keep her for long anyways," Rachel wondered out loud, "no one would want a bus driver who gets them late every day.

"But we can't continue getting late every single day!" Hannah, a spoiled eight year old whined. We looked at each other. Hannah was right.

"How about we save this for later?" I told everyone as the van rolled over to us. We all clambered on and it drove away. That day, there was

another random stop. This time, there was barely a bump. When Miss. Silver was getting back on the bus, I noticed a bit of a tear in her eyes.

Then I realized; Miss. Silver wasn't doing this on purpose.

To be continued...

*note: I will continue this over the school year for my newspaper. There will be four chapters in total and I will write them over the school year. If you want though, I can continue them faster for you if you like. :) though I doubt that :p But I guarantee that I will finish this piece-----if people like it enough...