The Paper Boy

One look. That's all it took for me to know he hated me. I sat by the window of the bus. I stared intently, as I remained motionless in the very last seat. The kind of seat that can only fit one person. I sat there for a reason that day. I didn't want to talk to anyone, I didn't want to see anyone, I just wanted to be on my own. This is what bothered me the most about that day. I had done absolutely nothing to the boy. But nevertheless he walked up to my chair, claiming it his own.

"That's my seat. Get out." He commanded, throwing me another glare of hatred as he stood before me, blocking my only view of the students surrounding me.

"No. I can sit here if I want." I protest, slowly inching towards the corner of the chair.

"Alright." He replied, suddenly planting himself right next to me. It was only after checking to make sure no one was watching when he slammed me against the widow, pressing hard with the force of his weight. I pulled my hand to my cheek in attempt to create some kind of cushion so the glass wouldn't hurt my face. When the boy stopped he climbed into the seat in front of me. I thought my torture was over. But the rest of the way home was miserable.

He spit at me, flecks of it landing all over my jeans and arms. I wanted to slap him. What was wrong with him? How is no one seeing this? I look with pleading eyes to all the seats nearby. Out of the fifty students on the bus that day, one stood up. He was the only one who had the courage to step up to the boy.

"C'mon man that's enough." I heard him say from across the aisle.

"Whatever." The boy grumbled as he finally turned around in his seat. Still today I am thankful to the boy who protected me. He was the paper boy in our town. And whenever he delivers our news, I come outside just to see him. As he rides away on his bike he turns and waves to me. And I always smile back.