Today was hell.
But I'm about to go to sleep and it will all be over. And the rest of my life will be happy in comparison.
Thank goodness.
I didn't let myself leave school until I had the bulk of my homework done. That was 7:25 PM. After the shuttle busses had stopped running, basically, which means I got to feel really guilty as a very nice driver took me to the junior parking lot.
My god, I wish I knew the bus drivers' names. I know Jennifer, because she was mine, and she's a little bit infamous anyway, in certain circles. And I knew Marcello, who used to be my late bus driver, spoke very little english, and was also a little bit infamous.
We had something of an understanding, in 8th grade, when I would be the only kid on late bus (on tuesdays. Due to voice lessons.) And I wasn't cool and comfortable with the late bus like those super awesome high school kids; I was wearing a kilt for god's sake. No one can be cool and comfortable wearing a kilt.
Or I guess some people can. Scotsmen, and those 8th graders who are such hot shit (at least in their own minds). And girls in sports uniforms, but only if they have any athletic ability (i.e. not me).
Anyway, he would tune the radio to oldies and I would sit quietly with my head against the seat and do homework, until that got soul-crushing, and then I would harmonize. At the time I thought it was quiet, but I'm sure now that I probably got pretty into it and he could definitely hear me.
Then one day I was half-complaining to my super cool 8th grade friends about it, and one said I should just change the station myself. So that day I got on the bus before he did and set the radio to 99.5. And it stayed there, I think, for as long as I rode the late bus.
To tell the truth, after that I kind of missed harmonizing to random oldies. Specific memory: Singing "Only the Good Die Young" as the bus pulled into the Safeway parking lot.
Marcello and I were chill though.
Although he had no idea what was going on most of the time.
I think he got fired... I haven't seen him once this year. And he was notoriously unreliable.
That's depressing.
Want to hear something non-depressing?
Tomorrow is the last day of school before spring break.
That is definitely not depressing.
Clara
P.S. Also not depressing: In 48 hours I will be on a plane to Italy. I need to pack.
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