Essay on The Night - Original Writing
I checked the time on the microwave, which made me nervous about missing the bus. I pulled on my combat boots and ran to the door. “Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” I shouted on my way out.
My brother James was waiting for me at the door, holding my backpack.
“What no thank you?” he smirked and hands it to me.
I rolled my eyes in response.
James got a car for his sixteenth birthday, and we were both so excited. James was the only older sibling ever to not complain about having to drive his little sister to school, which I thought was pretty cool. It also didn’t hurt that our ride to school would be half as long (read: I wouldn’t have to wake up as early), and wouldn’t smell of old leather and 9th graders’ BO.
Then James crashed his car a week later. So, of course, Mom and Dad took it away and we 've both been stuck riding the bus ever since. They won 't even teach me how to drive.
“Good morning Mr. Harmon,” I say. Usually, the bus driver is the only person with whom I have pleasant conversations with before 9 in the morning.
“Good to see ya, Becca,” the bus driver answered.
When we take our seats, James cracks some joke about how I…